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Literature Text
I want to create evanescent imaginings
until my fingertips drip crimson remembering’s
charcoal against canvas, unmet desire
words fading like inky shadows
until my fingertips drip crimson remembering’s
I want to trace the feel of you onto a blank page
words fading like inky shadows
the touch of your lips, a bitter parting
I want to trace the feel of you onto a blank page
charcoal against canvas, unmet desire
the touch of your lips, a bitter parting
I want to create evanescent imaginings
until my fingertips drip crimson remembering’s
charcoal against canvas, unmet desire
words fading like inky shadows
until my fingertips drip crimson remembering’s
I want to trace the feel of you onto a blank page
words fading like inky shadows
the touch of your lips, a bitter parting
I want to trace the feel of you onto a blank page
charcoal against canvas, unmet desire
the touch of your lips, a bitter parting
I want to create evanescent imaginings
Literature
a childhood experience
- a victory - Wait till you're my age; It's all memories: Hide and seek, age maybe five, youngest by four years and more. They couldn't find me a few yards away just around the corner of the house. I heard them accusing me of cheating, hiding in the barn [out of bounds] or in the house. When I crawled out from under the big green leaves of the rhubarb patch, they couldn't believe I'd hidden there so close by. Yay! Little me; I beat them all! llp - dA - dec2021
Literature
Italics
There it is again. That rose in the garden. It pierces itself through the ground in the dead of winter. In the beginning it seemed a sweet pale pink. I loved the way it loved me. Especially after I watered and fed it, and fed it and fed it--- And gave my full attention. But for some reason now it comes up a dark magenta. A color and smell so vicious my eyes water and I feel sick to my stomach. And those thorns kill, kill, kill. A continual annoyance. I'm afraid to go near it even though it throws me a bone once in awhile. Tip toeing around the garden is no protection. It pleasures itself stabbing its way into my side. It’s the cattiest little flower. Deliberate and hurtful. What used to be pretty to me is now ugly. Even the hornets don’t like it. That’s saying something. ©LRO 2021
Literature
in three, two, one
First what I am not. i. a clover meadow a lovely place to build a home (in) a patch of sun ii. downy plush and wooly warmth bow on neck and hat on head limp on the bed for midnight’s tears comfort for another’s fears iii. wide-eyed and wet behind the ears iv. an emporium of wishes v. wife Second what i am i. primordial soup ii. 48 colors you can’t see iii. system (of) roots an un-becoming become someone acerbic tongue unyielding sun and vision (waiting) not begun iv. fearsome. you should tremble. v. too many vi. too much Third what i can’t do i. soothe ii. force sunshine through my teeth like i haven’t swallowed rain iii. forget iv. subsist on dust and what is done be conscripted as a constellation receive burnt offering v. keep waiting
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"I want to know you, like only an artist can."
Another pantoum poem. I rather like this form.
Another pantoum poem. I rather like this form.
© 2015 - 2024 Lawlessness45
Comments3
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I quite like this form too. It is a new from for me to try! XD That was one of my goals for this year; to try a bunch of new poetic forms, especially ones I just run into in such a beautiful way. This is a glorious poem, >_> although the bleeding fingers bit makes me wince a little.
I hate to admit it but I actually am a bit of a newcomer to writing poetry. I have only really been doing it since early 2017. Before that I kind of hated the restrictiveness. It felt like putting a corset on speech. I didn't get it. Then I discovered free verse. THAT I understood. It became less about restrictions and more about just elegant expression. Now I write far more poetry than prose.
Somewhere along the way I finally began to understand the gracefulness of those formerly hateful restrictions and I began to experiment with fixed forms. So you see, I am just a fledgling poet. You have just showed me a new trick! I am going to mention you when I write my first one. Thank you!
I hate to admit it but I actually am a bit of a newcomer to writing poetry. I have only really been doing it since early 2017. Before that I kind of hated the restrictiveness. It felt like putting a corset on speech. I didn't get it. Then I discovered free verse. THAT I understood. It became less about restrictions and more about just elegant expression. Now I write far more poetry than prose.
Somewhere along the way I finally began to understand the gracefulness of those formerly hateful restrictions and I began to experiment with fixed forms. So you see, I am just a fledgling poet. You have just showed me a new trick! I am going to mention you when I write my first one. Thank you!