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Literature Text
I am the one who keeps awake to watch
Clouds drift across the great white moon
The sandman often withholds from me
Beads from which dreams are sewn
My memories of love haunt me
Still pure--like a new born dove
Great white moon with me tonight
Speak to me from the skies above
For so long I have been suffocated
By the loneliness I cannot breathe
I open the window to let in air, but
The night stares blindly back at me
His ghost stands in the dusty curtains
Then disappears without a trace
Like clouds across a pool, I read
His thoughts across his ghostly face
I know him well, I remember him
His eyes I once thought divine
Once when I prayed for his heart
Believing it could be mine
Staring at the ghost fondly thus
What vision should I see?
None, but my own pale yellow face
That grins and mimics me
Clouds shift across the great white moon
I listen to the ticking of the clock
The calendar says a year has passed
Changed only is the door's lock
Sleep finally comes to close my eyes
Asleep, in the dying dark
Hope's fluttering now disturbs no more
The perfect sleep of my heart
Clouds drift across the great white moon
The sandman often withholds from me
Beads from which dreams are sewn
My memories of love haunt me
Still pure--like a new born dove
Great white moon with me tonight
Speak to me from the skies above
For so long I have been suffocated
By the loneliness I cannot breathe
I open the window to let in air, but
The night stares blindly back at me
His ghost stands in the dusty curtains
Then disappears without a trace
Like clouds across a pool, I read
His thoughts across his ghostly face
I know him well, I remember him
His eyes I once thought divine
Once when I prayed for his heart
Believing it could be mine
Staring at the ghost fondly thus
What vision should I see?
None, but my own pale yellow face
That grins and mimics me
Clouds shift across the great white moon
I listen to the ticking of the clock
The calendar says a year has passed
Changed only is the door's lock
Sleep finally comes to close my eyes
Asleep, in the dying dark
Hope's fluttering now disturbs no more
The perfect sleep of my heart
Literature
i.
Within blue eyes
anemone and starfish
abound, and seaweed eyelashes
move leisurely with the tides.
At sunset they sparkle,
lined with golden sand
and swirling without a sure direction,
becoming cloudy as a storm brews.
Beware, anger flashes across the surface,
where riptides catch the unwary
ships and sailors, wrecked
and broken amongst its depths.
Only the brave venture in,
attracted by the untameable,
roaring waves and sharp wind.
Eyes stinging, they enter the battle.
Slowly they themselves become blue,
the cold clinging to their skin,
sucking out all their warmth.
Then white as stone,
lips cracked and filled with salt
that leaves a bitter
Literature
Onwards!
Rough and puff, ain't looking so tough,
Moving still with an occasional cough,
Everyone have a dream but few are true,
Coz' they fear to tumble down like the way I do!
Literature
On Writing
all the words
all the senses
all the dirt and smell and roughness
the bursting heart
fresh cold water
CRASH of waves and then the ache within
trickling nothing tears and itching legs
all these things
someone wrote them, a bit.
How can you tell anyone
else? How can you thrust
the living today
into someone else's soul?
This is just a nut in a banana leaf.
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There's a ghost in the window mother, make it go away-
Came back to this after a really long time, and wondered:-
What category does this come in? Do you think it would count as narrative writing? What images play in your mind as you read this?
I want feedback on this because this is one of my older poems, and my writing style has changed so much since I oined dA I just had to stop and evaluate whether that was for the better or not.
Came back to this after a really long time, and wondered:-
What category does this come in? Do you think it would count as narrative writing? What images play in your mind as you read this?
I want feedback on this because this is one of my older poems, and my writing style has changed so much since I oined dA I just had to stop and evaluate whether that was for the better or not.
Comments12
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seems & reminds me of my night last night - filled with loneliness & remembrances