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Literature Text
I've your cobblestone eyes sheathed
Underneath these frail nail beds of mine
Your fluorescent sea-green highlights
Embedded in my quills and in my soul
That's why all my poems are written in green;
Because they remind me of you
I've befriended Gemini butterflies
And long-lost souls to sooth their loneliness
As well as mine, in hopes that I can reach
The crumbled partridge ash-stone shores
With reflections mottled like the stars
I've traveled three hours a night
In my sleep to your grave and dusted
Non-existent dust specks off the headstone
And placed my green ink cartridges
That never seem to match the colour of your hair
And my tiger eye gem-dust into a little vase
Because you never did like flowers...
Underneath these frail nail beds of mine
Your fluorescent sea-green highlights
Embedded in my quills and in my soul
That's why all my poems are written in green;
Because they remind me of you
I've befriended Gemini butterflies
And long-lost souls to sooth their loneliness
As well as mine, in hopes that I can reach
The crumbled partridge ash-stone shores
With reflections mottled like the stars
I've traveled three hours a night
In my sleep to your grave and dusted
Non-existent dust specks off the headstone
And placed my green ink cartridges
That never seem to match the colour of your hair
And my tiger eye gem-dust into a little vase
Because you never did like flowers...
Literature
Reality
She is terrified
But She keeps her mouth shut
A broken relationship they have formed
Absent of trust
Is it another man?
Of course not, never
But He won't believe Her
And so She suffers forever
Bruises and cuts
She is covered from head to toe
But She searches for nothing else
He is all that She knows
Love, love, love
You are just but a dream
Love, Love, Love
Absence is Her reality
Literature
My Reality
Grasping for reality
Something only I can see
Others have such crowded views
To see the world's true coloured hues.
Trust me when I tell you this
You are surrounded by a mist.
It makes you not the bit to see
What Humanity is to really be.
People come to me at best
Learned that I have passed their test.
And every time with what you do
You'll never see what world is true.
Literature
280
pen across paper
the rhythmic tapping of keyboard running
my being is letters
yet i cannot make words
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I'm trying to convince myself you're not gone.
I think I like this poem, I didn't really edit it either.
NaPoWriMo, 11th piece, 12th of April.
I think I like this poem, I didn't really edit it either.
NaPoWriMo, 11th piece, 12th of April.
© 2013 - 2024 smallsincerities
Comments13
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I and Pauper-Circumstance are here on behalf of 
to provide our critique.
to provide our critique.This is honestly, a beautiful work. I really have nothing to critique. The best thing which I found about this poem, was its beginning, climax, conclusion approach. It did the title justice, and gave this feeling of forbidden love - not in the sense that the woman here was looking out for spirits, more along the lines of... holding onto a memory of a person, who's gone, who can't come back, but is brought back because of the love and affection being poured out by the droves. The symbolism here doesn't seem deliberate - I didn't completely understand why you chose the colors or even the symbols in this poem, but I liked them anyway... gave this feeling of nostalgia when read aloud. All in all, a wonderful work.
In style, and theme, I feel the best people who'd like this work would be chromeantennae and LadyOfSilver and Honestly-Not and your-methamphetamine and Lady-Yume and imaginative-lioness and Malintra-Shadowmoon . Also, in terms of its diction, its definitely a must read - well done 
Diluculi and Taralitha in particular, write based on such themes. Overall, a job well done. Keep writing.
Diluculi and Taralitha in particular, write based on such themes. Overall, a job well done. Keep writing.