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Literature Text
It's that one time of year
When I start fishing for storms
And when all the lighthouses
I used to know
Slowly shatter their bulbs.
I've really never known
How deep my grave could be.
Tonight, I plan to figure out
How far I'll make it go.
If I dig all the way
To the other side of the world,
Don't let them forget-
I was here, too.
Once, all I knew
Was a mirror's face.
Now it's starting to look clear.
I can see something
That’s not made of glass.
It's the beginning for you and I.
When I start fishing for storms
And when all the lighthouses
I used to know
Slowly shatter their bulbs.
I've really never known
How deep my grave could be.
Tonight, I plan to figure out
How far I'll make it go.
If I dig all the way
To the other side of the world,
Don't let them forget-
I was here, too.
Once, all I knew
Was a mirror's face.
Now it's starting to look clear.
I can see something
That’s not made of glass.
It's the beginning for you and I.
Literature
Fire warms during the Night
As the night creeps on the air turns chilly the fire becomes ablaze warming all near and far from winter's chilly gaze.
Literature
Life, the flicker of Men and Moths
Where gnarled November makes the
white smoke of the farm house
in the coal black sky
out of what calms
Consider:
the trees made silver white
the cornhusk-shreds
a stooped man turning out the lights
the stars glittered on the snow and nothing answered
the silence magnifies...
it was Autumn by the time I got around;
of all the things I ought to know
that I was mad
shuffling for salvation
what am I now that I was then?
Seeking their peace
like a master key
without noticing me there
beside the clock's loneliness
Is nothing lovelier to look at:
snow falls
torch-like with the smoking blueness
shining in the empty room
I'll say
Literature
sometimes i am
sometimes i am a little bird singing to you from a wooden box fragile colorful and small sometimes i am a roaring river carving my way through the earth wild foaming and reckless. sometimes i am stained glass pieces of a shattered church window broken sharp and scattered. and sometimes i am only bones water and atoms and i do not know what to make of myself.
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This was fun. Very fun. It got rid of all post Calculus testing stress. (Lesson to be learned: never watch a teacher's face while she's grading paper)
A few of these phrases came in the midst of night, so I wrote them on whatever I could find.
They just so happened to be sticky notes...
Basic message of piece is on passion and anger. No allusions this time around.
A few of these phrases came in the midst of night, so I wrote them on whatever I could find.
They just so happened to be sticky notes...
Basic message of piece is on passion and anger. No allusions this time around.
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Comments3
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Something about fishing for storms dragged me in, and I couldn't leave without faving. Excellently written.