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Literature Text
There is something of the cold which wraps us
Warm, the way ice lines the panes, blows and throws
Itself against a house at night, the snows
That burry light and landscape, car and bus
Inert and wasting wayside, bright furnace
Fuming long after all are sleeping, nose
Exposed bare to the air, still chilled, the toes
Tucked tight to the knees, attaining status
Of the bear, who slumbers down deep and low
Breathing the rank of bear smell, under ground,
The weight of earth and rock, the sting of bees
Numb on the quivering nose, with the echo
Of moaning wind outside - inside, the sound
Of moaning hive, and wind in summer trees.
Warm, the way ice lines the panes, blows and throws
Itself against a house at night, the snows
That burry light and landscape, car and bus
Inert and wasting wayside, bright furnace
Fuming long after all are sleeping, nose
Exposed bare to the air, still chilled, the toes
Tucked tight to the knees, attaining status
Of the bear, who slumbers down deep and low
Breathing the rank of bear smell, under ground,
The weight of earth and rock, the sting of bees
Numb on the quivering nose, with the echo
Of moaning wind outside - inside, the sound
Of moaning hive, and wind in summer trees.
Literature
Home.
The night is pitch-black all around, save for the uncountable mass of stars winking benevolently at me from the tarp of deepest indigo that hangs overhead. Everything feels suspended in that momentthe stars, the crescent moon, the sparse, gray-black clouds, this little island called Earth, and even myself. It feels as if my feet don't even touch the ground.
I feel as if I'm falling into them, the stars. There are so many of them, filling my field of vision, that I am taken by a sudden bout of dizziness and fall back into the Earth's gentle embrace. In response she twirls me around playfully, pulling me into a slow-motion
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
Bubbles
Bubbles
Everywhere I look,
Guess, what do I see?
Bubbles, bubbles, bubbles!
Are all around me.
I tried to run from them,
But they won’t go away.
Bubbles, bubbles, bubbles!
Are staying in my way.
I ran straight to my house
And fast I locked the door.
Bubbles, bubbles, bubbles!
Are not here anymore.
Now I’m missing them;
I wish they could be here.
Bubbles, bubbles, bubbles!
Are only in my tear.
While I was asleep
I heard a little sound.
Bubbles, bubbles, bubbles!
Again, are all around.
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I'm part of the bard's college in Skyrim.
Good to be back. No iambic pentameter, but I think it still works.
Oh, yah, this is for The Februrary Sonnet Contest. This is a Petrarchan Sonnet.
Goes ABBA ABBA CDECDE.
Yup.
Good to be back. No iambic pentameter, but I think it still works.
Oh, yah, this is for The Februrary Sonnet Contest. This is a Petrarchan Sonnet.
Goes ABBA ABBA CDECDE.
Yup.
© 2013 - 2024 Bobibillius
Comments10
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I find it hard to get into poetry these days after spending 4-5 years being forced to analyse WW2 poems in Literature classes back in the day at school. But it's ones like these that remind me how pleasant it is to simply read and feel a poem without being graded on how well you can tease any kind of meaning from it. School has you forget that sometimes a piece of art is even better if you have no clue what it's trying to convey!
P.S. I'm still annoyed you didn't get to become an actual bard in the bard's college quest. Sometimes singing for drunk people at an inn is the perfect way to round off a day of adventuring!
P.S. I'm still annoyed you didn't get to become an actual bard in the bard's college quest. Sometimes singing for drunk people at an inn is the perfect way to round off a day of adventuring!