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Literature Text
A little elf made a trade with me
In the night, perhaps in a dream:
A gold coin for my destiny.
But thinking that it was a dream
I grinned and gave it away.
The elf was gone the next I looked;
Where he stood, the gold coin lay.
I picked it up and cursed the crook
And to waking I slowly went,
But I felt bad that the trade was done
And my riches were almost spent.
So I sought to trade my coin for fun
At the local drinking bar
But on the way I tripped and fell
And the coin rolled very far.
I ran and leaped and ducked and well,
The coin was the better man,
Across the road it went past me
And unto your waiting hand.
"My dear, you hold my destiny,"
I said, but you smiled and winked and the wind danced on your hair,
And I saw myself in you and I lost my composure and I could not speak at all.
My pockets were empty and my mind lost its wit,
And my poetry could no longer merit an exchange.
So I took my heart and offered,
Which you traded with me gladly-
And it was then, I realized,
That I no longer owned my destiny!
In the night, perhaps in a dream:
A gold coin for my destiny.
But thinking that it was a dream
I grinned and gave it away.
The elf was gone the next I looked;
Where he stood, the gold coin lay.
I picked it up and cursed the crook
And to waking I slowly went,
But I felt bad that the trade was done
And my riches were almost spent.
So I sought to trade my coin for fun
At the local drinking bar
But on the way I tripped and fell
And the coin rolled very far.
I ran and leaped and ducked and well,
The coin was the better man,
Across the road it went past me
And unto your waiting hand.
"My dear, you hold my destiny,"
I said, but you smiled and winked and the wind danced on your hair,
And I saw myself in you and I lost my composure and I could not speak at all.
My pockets were empty and my mind lost its wit,
And my poetry could no longer merit an exchange.
So I took my heart and offered,
Which you traded with me gladly-
And it was then, I realized,
That I no longer owned my destiny!
Literature
when we know...
---
before everything is over, I would like
you to lick morning from my fingers and take
your time with it. I would
make for myself a blanket of the heat from your
limbs, take in your scent from all the places
it lingers strongest, the curve
of your neck and the crook of your elbows and
your knees. for one more night, my love,
I would like to call you my love and for you
to turn your face my way at the sound of it and
for you to just for one more night
be mine. before this night is over,
I would like to touch you in all the secret
places that you and I know and quiet all
your thoughts into whispers. into oh,
and oh, and oh.
Literature
Love poem homicides
i stutter when i'm nervous which is almost all the time. she used to say that it was cute and that i was cute, count my smattering of freckles and call each one an angel toothed nibble and whatever that meant it sounded un-hideous so i didn't ever disagree.
i think it was that time in the sun drowned jungle where the children shoot each other with invisible guns that i realized she wasn't exactly normal. she kissed me under the gnarled roof where gold dusted fairy motes hang like clouds waiting anxiously for rain and i stuttered because her lips were my side of the pillowcase and pink corner store bubble gum.
she smiled like white linoleu
Literature
The Rag Doll
She built her home in tear drops
And gave her heart to the sky.
She tied up leaves
Around her sleeves
And pretended she could fly.
One morning in mid Winter
On a day that felt more like Spring,
She opened her ears
To the sound of tears
And imagined she could sing.
Overhead the birds would sweep
In sunshine or in rain.
Part of a crowd
They were happy and proud
And ignorant of her pain.
With a final farewell to teardrops
She climbed the tallest tower...
In her silent voice
She made her choice
Knowing freedom was in her power.
With her gaze up to the heavens
She felt then only peace,
As she took one step more
That trailed
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Comments2
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Lovely piece.