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Literature Text
The sun nips memories back & forth,
blinking through the early 7am fog
that’s crawling way across Interstate 5
early morning rush hour the only entitiy
as languid as the fog itself
memories of an airport long since visited – golden sun on plane wingtips
the sun nips memories back & forth
hiding lazily behind fed evergreen trees on the tops of
the cascades
memories of tautly laced boots against
warm hiking socks
a creek so shallow even the river rocks gasped for water
like koi
the sun nips memories back & forth
lost soul flipping through the found pages of
‘God’s Handbook’
a little misspoken sometimes
nipping through memories back & forth
blinking through drizzly city streets – maybe not there at all
just a gray slate being greeted by prismacolor umbrellas
blinking through the early 7am fog
that’s crawling way across Interstate 5
early morning rush hour the only entitiy
as languid as the fog itself
memories of an airport long since visited – golden sun on plane wingtips
the sun nips memories back & forth
hiding lazily behind fed evergreen trees on the tops of
the cascades
memories of tautly laced boots against
warm hiking socks
a creek so shallow even the river rocks gasped for water
like koi
the sun nips memories back & forth
lost soul flipping through the found pages of
‘God’s Handbook’
a little misspoken sometimes
nipping through memories back & forth
blinking through drizzly city streets – maybe not there at all
just a gray slate being greeted by prismacolor umbrellas
Literature
Let Your Daughter Be a Pirate
Let your daughter be a pirate
if she asks for a wooden sword
help her build her ship from empty boxes
and sail the vast backyard
because a box doesn’t only
have to store dead dreams
and she is so much more
than just a vessel.
Let your daughter be Robin Hood,
if she wants to be an anarchist,
a hero, a rebel, a rogue,
give her bows, and arrows,
and arrogance,
let her fight for the plight of poorer folk
because Robin isn’t just a boy’s name.
Let your daughter be a princess
locked in a tower so high
let her be her own prince,
don’t tell her to wait for a hundred years,
let her swing from her own hair
and grasp her own fre
Literature
The Beauty of a Woman
The beauty of a woman
Is like the lotus -
Most of it is hidden from the eye.
Literature
Let the Sparrows In
I.
Blackbirds rest on the power lines,
their silhouettes form the notation
to a dawn song set on the sheet music
of telephone poles contrasted by the sun.
Curled leaves are land mines littered
on the lawn where imprints of twigs
and a nurturing robin's tracks collect.
Branchlets and leaflets stem from
porch step railings and mailboxes;
the numbers read odd on the east,
even on the west side of the asphalt:
seven-seven-thirty-six.
The engraved letters on
the siding reads, "Davis."
This house is home to family
so let the sparrows in.
The house,
with its branching hallways
and
overhanging décor
and
furniture rooted to the floor
is
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In this year, 2015: I will no longer let my muse run from me. I will be attempting to write a poem every single day. January 16th, 2015 starts the 'year'. So, I sat, listened to some music, and wrote what popped into my head. It's a little rough, and I make no promises to come back and edit just yet.
© 2015 - 2024 Aquariem
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Nice!