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Literature Text
darling cheshire mouse,
if i could picnic with you
in your fairytale woods,
then i would bring my favorite
chocolates and the loveliest
strawberries and my pink flyswatter
(of course, if you do not like chocolate
or strawberries we could choose something else)
the quiet darkness is where i
do my best work, the words
and melodies come so much faster
but the clouds make me sad,
because they cover the stars and
the shining moon and i like them
better than the sun and that’s
where i think you are, with the stars
(but i’ll sing even louder to reach
you if i have to sing through your
glass jar because i sing for the
bright things of the world)
you’re words are like the
warmth of summer and
i hate to be the one to
inform you of this, but
my voice is not beautiful
when i speak it is low,
nearly comparable to the
rolling streams when they are calm
when i sing i must push it up
until it is the pitch of a song
bird, though not a pleasant
because, for all my trying,
the notes and melodies
fight me like warriors
(and i am not yet strong enough
to fight them off, but i will work)
and how is wonderland right now?
is it pure sparkly white with snow?
for my home is, and we crickets go
into hiding when there is snow on
the ground and our throats are
sore and we cannot sing during the
winter, but i’m sure wonderland
is beautiful covered in snow
(perhaps you could teach me to
love winter again)
cricket girl
if i could picnic with you
in your fairytale woods,
then i would bring my favorite
chocolates and the loveliest
strawberries and my pink flyswatter
(of course, if you do not like chocolate
or strawberries we could choose something else)
the quiet darkness is where i
do my best work, the words
and melodies come so much faster
but the clouds make me sad,
because they cover the stars and
the shining moon and i like them
better than the sun and that’s
where i think you are, with the stars
(but i’ll sing even louder to reach
you if i have to sing through your
glass jar because i sing for the
bright things of the world)
you’re words are like the
warmth of summer and
i hate to be the one to
inform you of this, but
my voice is not beautiful
when i speak it is low,
nearly comparable to the
rolling streams when they are calm
when i sing i must push it up
until it is the pitch of a song
bird, though not a pleasant
because, for all my trying,
the notes and melodies
fight me like warriors
(and i am not yet strong enough
to fight them off, but i will work)
and how is wonderland right now?
is it pure sparkly white with snow?
for my home is, and we crickets go
into hiding when there is snow on
the ground and our throats are
sore and we cannot sing during the
winter, but i’m sure wonderland
is beautiful covered in snow
(perhaps you could teach me to
love winter again)
cricket girl
Literature
36 - enough excuses
Insecurities
Attempt to keep me from being
My best version of myself
Can't, won't, will try but most likely fail - is the discourse I had
And you reinforced to keep me from sur-
Passing you in anything at all, belittling
Any of my few achievements
Blaming me for your own short-comings
Leading me to think I could not
Exist without you
Yet
I
am
capable
of more than you ever allowed me to believe
'Cause without you I can actually breathe
Literature
Sonnet 100
In night when colors all to black are cast,
Distinction lost, or gone down with the light;
The eye a watch to inward senses placed,
Not seeing, yet still having powers of sight,
Gives vain alarums to the inward sense,
Where fear stirred up with witty tyranny,
Confounds all powers, and thorough self-offense,
Doth forge and raise impossibility:
Such as in thick depriving darknesses,
Proper reflections of the error be,
And images of self-confusednesses,
Which hurt imaginations only see;
And from this nothing seen, tells news of devils,
Which but expressions be of inward evils.
Literature
05:43
It awakes me with a twitch, one I think it regrets
and almost apologetic, it does not embrace
it simply affirms my presence here, and looks
a little pale, a little quiet
a little strained
but it disturbs me not, it's the ever and vague
and it is early, I understand
she is gone - with the rest, let us not, here
give a minute of longing
when we are ready at last to partake.
a while til sunrise then another til day
and together we wait, quiet and careful
to not afflict by awareness
the presence of each other, in this
pearl, this moment
which I appreciate now
more than ever. I think we care
for one another, maybe I am vain.
either way, it'
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This is my reply to the lovely LadyBitterblue
© 2014 - 2024 luminescent0513
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