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Literature Text
Thursday, September 20, 2012
I had to work tonight,
But since I didn't have
Too much homework,
I decided to start writing something
That I'd be able to read you.
I spent an hour on poems,
Until I took the narrator,
Gave her a name,
And wrote a prologue.
I had to text you
And tell you the good news.
"Wait, you told me today?
And I have to wait
Until next Tuesday?"
You didn't text in italics,
But I imagined you speaking that way.
"I'm sorry,"
I replied,
"But would you rather
Have me ruin the surprise?"
There was a long pause
Before you responded again.
"You have a good point.
But I'll bug you about it
Every day until Tuesday!"
I had to work tonight,
But since I didn't have
Too much homework,
I decided to start writing something
That I'd be able to read you.
I spent an hour on poems,
Until I took the narrator,
Gave her a name,
And wrote a prologue.
I had to text you
And tell you the good news.
"Wait, you told me today?
And I have to wait
Until next Tuesday?"
You didn't text in italics,
But I imagined you speaking that way.
"I'm sorry,"
I replied,
"But would you rather
Have me ruin the surprise?"
There was a long pause
Before you responded again.
"You have a good point.
But I'll bug you about it
Every day until Tuesday!"
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Literature
First Flight
How frightening that first flight must have been,
hearts racing into the unknown,
and I should wonder how those men felt
at the first takeoff into the air,
gusts of wind beneath fragile wings,
if not for loving you.
Literature
Untold Stories- The Unsinkable Ship: Prologue
-6:43 AM, April 10th, 1912- Southampton, England
Nicholas Thatcher woke up extra early today. He gasped, waking up immediately. He sat up in his hotel bed, looking at the clock. Smiling, he got out of bed, careful not to wake Sofia (his sister) who was sleeping next to him. He went bare foot on the wooden floor, past the bed his mom and Amber (his other sister, twin of Sofia) were sleeping in. The 11 year old kneeled in the wooden chair that was pushed up to the high window so he could look out.
Their hotel in Southampton overlooked the White Star Line's Pier. Nick could see it from their floor of the hotel, just barely. In that ocean dock
Literature
Perfection
I am a swaying pendulum
Dangling from your every breath.
I am your natural satellite;
I call to your tides,
For you are my World.
Beloved beyond words,
They could never understand you;
For such sweet darkness
And intimidating sound
As the rhythm of your soul
Soars above humanity.
They fear your presence
The way they fear the face of death;
For you are the dawn,
When the moon still lingers,
A pearl, in the oyster-mouth of the night.
You are there,
In the space between notes,
Between knowledge,
When the underworld and the sky are one,
And all things lose shape,
Hidden and cloaked
In the belly of the cosmos.
For your skin is like light
That
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