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Literature Text
streaks of
contrail wings
illuminate like fireflies
ballooning in amethyst-stained
contact lens -;
the fluttering skies catch constellations
in their eyelashes
and impolitely stare cross-leggedly
( oh, the blissful reverie )
contrail wings
illuminate like fireflies
ballooning in amethyst-stained
contact lens -;
the fluttering skies catch constellations
in their eyelashes
and impolitely stare cross-leggedly
( oh, the blissful reverie )
Literature
Dreams of reality
A pair of eyes;
Open and stare through the lights,
Into the darkness of doom.
And yet they smile,
Yet they smile.
A drop of tear;
Seeps through the garden of death;
Falls to the mortal soil.
Dreams and desires will blend again,
To render the roses alive.
I am floating through a vision.
Like ripples, floating through the pond of life.
Can reality be so real?
Let me drown again,
Into the silence of familiar noise.
As I wander through the lanes of reason and passion.
The flame of hope burns bright,
Drenched in the colors of freedom.
So let my dreams unravel my soul,
As darkness fades away;
And let mortality draw me closer to destiny.
As these
Literature
Shallow Water
It was just a little kiddie pool in the backyard, unlovely pink-and-yellow plastic under the hot summer sun. But on those nights when Mom came home from the swing shift tired and met Daddy sitting in the kitchen angry, it was Amy’s only sanctuary.
She wasn’t a sound sleeper. Her parents still talked about how it had taken her infant self six months to sleep more than two or three hours at a time. During the school year, when her life was full of classes and friends and sports, it was easier to drop off, but summer nights were always more difficult. They were hotter, for one thing, and the long, indolent, inactive days often left
Literature
Before Daybreak
Couldn't sleep – 4 AM may be
Too early for coffee, but
The corner diner's open
At all hours, so I head
That way. Dickens, Green Mansions,
Shakespeare, bleak Russians – shadows
Can watch them for a while…
The night air's warm—a slow block
Of rain-sloshed concrete later
And I've made it. – Get dark roast
Pick a table not too close
To the counter, then sit back.
Watch life eddy around you...
Whoever sat here last must
Have dropped the tract—Jesus Saves.
We're story-weaving creatures.
This tale? It's nine-tenths thunder—
Granite certainty. Can't see
Much past my face. But who knows?
That might just
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8/2/13 It's pretty up there.
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Comments9
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Very beautiful imagery you've created! I especially like the likes "the fluttering skies catch constellations/in their eyelashes" Over all, it's very lovely! Well done 