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Posted: Sat Feb 03, 2007 10:42 am
This is the first: a poem that was inspired by my politics class at school, I'm sorry to say, so it won't be that great...
Spilt
That great enormous spot smack on the floor Of grape juice spilt with noble will and cause— But now, the child turned up his face and saw A frowning parent, looking at the stain: “Go wash yourself; there’s grape juice on your hands.”
And so, obeying silently, the child Walked as the sheep go to their slaughtering, To wash his hands, his purple mustache off, Renounce his conquer of the living room, Repent the deeds, and ponder what was spilled.
With open eyes, and like a lily-frog, He walked back to the room where it had been, And gently, imperceptibly, stuck out A little purple tongue from tiny mouth; He licked his lips from what was left of sugar.
The child will walk each day across the rug, That clean, white rug, all but for that one stain Of grape juice fallen on protected white: He’ll look, and with his ears he shall recall The wondrous sound when victory is sweet.
This is something I wrote at the spur of the moment.
Ode to My Little Brother
Some walk through endless hallways in museums, Looking at the ancient Roman art, The naked gods, the muses laced with doves That flock to them like clumsy bears to honey, They gawk up at the shattered limbs or edges: Amazing, how such genius still survives!
Some sit in concerts, listening to sounds Climb up to waiting ears, anticipant, And then, at last, the note is sent to fly, And all stand in applause at those bright wings: Yes, music is a beauty born immortal, But even echoes do not last forever.
Some walk only in dreams, while fast asleep And buttoned to their beds they lie in wait, The happiest when left alone to watch Their dreams unfold between the ebony, Those dreamers, they have lasting love as well, But dreams live only when the sleeper does.
I love these things as well, these arts of men, The brush, the pen, the instrument of song, But even more, this world makes me pursue The arts of something greater, not our own: And you, with your soft cheeks and tender ears, Can single-handedly transport me there.
Enjoy, and don't steal please. ^^
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Posted: Sat Feb 03, 2007 10:55 pm
I really really liked them!! I wish I could write half as good as you do! These were amazing!!!
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Posted: Sun Feb 04, 2007 3:13 am
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAW!!!!
so good! well done! How can you make grape juice sound so powerful?! i love them!
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Posted: Mon Feb 05, 2007 6:18 pm
Thankyouthankyou. 3nodding I like to write about...uh...interesting topics, shall we say? (PS: A fun acitivity is to write an ode about something very normal, like a post-it note, and see what you can make of it. I do this all the time.)
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