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Literature Text
there is sunburn on my back.
i never realized it was there the first day.
(ignorance is bliss when your head is filled with cotton candied lies.)
days go by as i
begin to burn.
blood rises to
the surface.
skin falls away
and i realize i'm no longer (your)
home.
i never realized it was there the first day.
(ignorance is bliss when your head is filled with cotton candied lies.)
days go by as i
begin to burn.
blood rises to
the surface.
skin falls away
and i realize i'm no longer (your)
home.
Literature
My Dad
6/3/2002 5:51:01 PM
My Dad was: Strong, silent and serious. He was funny, witty, and charming. He was wise, intelligent, and smart. He was strict, unbending, yet flexible. He was dedicated, driven, and successful. He was loving, loyal, and wacky. He was a loving husband, father, brother, son, and friend. He was respected, honored, and fiercely protective of his family and country. He reputation rang through the hallowed halls of the US Army Medical Corps. He was fair, honest, and straightforward. He was brought low before his time by a thin wall in his aorta. When the news spread of his untimely demise, visitors came from far and
Literature
Happy Father's Day
I'll never tell you he was a monster
He was just a man
Who could fault him for that
He was never made to love
And he was never made to live long
Existing as an oppositional force
Pouring white salt on the wounds
And kicking dust in the eyes
Roaming late at night
And twisting in and out of memories
An apparition of a godlike figure
The man behind the curtain
Pulling levers to navigate childhood nightmares
Getting sucked under trains and leaving everything behind
Mothers, daughters, friends
Your absence is relief and pain in one breath
Happy Father's Day
Literature
One for Dad
I was back in the house where I could feel the melancholy
of the lonesome, crowded west.
The same house but all the memories seemed so far away.
The smell of fresh paint hung heavy in the air,
and the walls I had once scratched and dented were bare.
A film of neglect clung to the books he never let me touch,
“Always end up damaged.” he’d say.
Not realising that love changes things,
makes friendships stronger, give things sentiment.
Those worn covers and creased pages,
not a sign of carelessness but a sign of greatest care.
There were the bottles of wisdom placed in the cellar,
full of learning, but paling to the lesso
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who knew i'd be comparing sunburn to way you just broke my heart. i didn't.
you had my heart inside your hand, and you played it to the beat--adele.
you had my heart inside your hand, and you played it to the beat--adele.
Comments9
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I used the title of your poem in my found poem.
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