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Literature Text
Monday, February 25, 2013
I don’t write very often on Mondays,
But today I’ll be writing more
Than just this poem.
Not only do I want to work
A little more on your present,
But I’m planning
To have something new
For you to listen to tomorrow.
I started it yesterday
After I hit a bump
In your birthday present’s progress.
It’s a very short story
About a boy
Who doesn’t know where
He wants to go to college.
It’s not the most original
In the world,
But it’s actually helping me
Deal with my situation
That is identical
To the protagonist’s.
I think you’ll get a kick
Out of that fact.
Unfortunately,
I just received a text from you
In which you described
Your stressful Monday.
Looks like the only thing
I’ll be writing now
Is anything I can say
To encourage you.
I don’t write very often on Mondays,
But today I’ll be writing more
Than just this poem.
Not only do I want to work
A little more on your present,
But I’m planning
To have something new
For you to listen to tomorrow.
I started it yesterday
After I hit a bump
In your birthday present’s progress.
It’s a very short story
About a boy
Who doesn’t know where
He wants to go to college.
It’s not the most original
In the world,
But it’s actually helping me
Deal with my situation
That is identical
To the protagonist’s.
I think you’ll get a kick
Out of that fact.
Unfortunately,
I just received a text from you
In which you described
Your stressful Monday.
Looks like the only thing
I’ll be writing now
Is anything I can say
To encourage you.
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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
Sink or swim
He stood on the dock
One foot reluctantly planted
The other standing at the ready
Like that fleeting moment
Suspended in mid-air
Gleefully anticipating the water on your skin
Yet apprehensive of those undiscovered depths
Which have yet to be kissed by sunlight
She dove in head-fist
Through the reeds and the icy darkness
And watched from below
As the light fragmented
Along the rippled surface
How stunning it was
Even in the deepest and feared unknown
Especially there.
In the light and in the dark
There was only him
He watched as she held her breath
Shackled by his own mind
Wanting for that planted foot
To be freed from its hesitations
Literature
Persistence
Persistence
At the end, only the words persist
The feelings,
like flowers in the Winter,
crumble
Just the words remain:
Loneliness,
Emptiness,
Silence
They speak of feelings that no longer fit them
They speak of dreams and desires without echo
Just the words remain:
written in the endless cold of the night
mistaking delirious with hope
My poetry remains singing the meetings
but it's only about the searching
but it's only about the mismatch
My poetic universe is made of black holes
It is starless nights
It is deserted planets
Just the words remain:
"I love you",
"Kiss Me",
"I need you"
These, however, I do not recognize,
They are legend
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