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Literature Text
What if
you thought a thought
which turned out not as it aught
to be? Turns out all things come with
a fee.
My plan -
too strong a word -
my idea was to gird
the world round with joy for all girls
and boys...
Fat chance.
No kid wants that.
They want toys, they want cats,
and worse, as long as it's not from
their purse.
So now,
I work all year
to breed stronger reindeer
to lift the increasing number
of gifts.
But I -
I must confess
I can't handle the stress
so I eat as I try to stay
upbeat.
And yet,
my shrink, she thinks
that I'm nearing the brink
and says it's best that I give it
a rest.
You know,
she could be right
the kids will be alright
and then I can have some fun in
the sun.
Screw 'em.
I shall this year
though they'll miss christmas cheer.
Ah well, what the hell will I care?
Noel.
you thought a thought
which turned out not as it aught
to be? Turns out all things come with
a fee.
My plan -
too strong a word -
my idea was to gird
the world round with joy for all girls
and boys...
Fat chance.
No kid wants that.
They want toys, they want cats,
and worse, as long as it's not from
their purse.
So now,
I work all year
to breed stronger reindeer
to lift the increasing number
of gifts.
But I -
I must confess
I can't handle the stress
so I eat as I try to stay
upbeat.
And yet,
my shrink, she thinks
that I'm nearing the brink
and says it's best that I give it
a rest.
You know,
she could be right
the kids will be alright
and then I can have some fun in
the sun.
Screw 'em.
I shall this year
though they'll miss christmas cheer.
Ah well, what the hell will I care?
Noel.
Literature
Glenmorangie
Her suitcase thumped to the floor before the door even closed all the way. Her blouse drifted down almost simultaneously. Then her bra. Realizing the drab old curtains were open, she walked over to close them. With an arm crossed over her bare chest it was an awkward one handed job.
“A shower,” she assured herself, seeing now to the deadbolt on the door. “That’ll be nice.”
Halfway across the room she flipped on the television without even looking at what was playing and wiggled each foot out of a shoe. Jeans tumbled onto the linoleum of the lavatory, tiptoed out of like a ballet dancer. In a haze of steam, lace
Literature
poem iv
That little bonus
of my heart on your chest
makes me seem less forgotten
fractured, unspoken
yet I keep dreaming wide awake
of your head resting upon my breast
and my shallow breath
worrisome as we wait
for light leaks in photo trays
of grey cloud engulfed skies
yet all I can see
are cold cracked windows
on damp walls, written in mandarin
as rain bounces off of floors
in the empty gardens of shame
I'm shielded by soot covered wings
wishing for whispers
sweet nothings from a dove tree
I fear dreaming a dream
where I lose it all
Literature
Thoughts
Life is a series of erratic eccentricities.
Just as soon as you grasp ahold of reality,
it slips through your fingers leaving no trace.
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Type of Poem: Cinq-Cinquain
Prompt: "It's only forever."
A cinq-cinquain is one longer poem formed of five cinquains. A cinquain is a poem of 5 lines that does not have to rhyme. It is written in iambic meter and the syllables in each line must follow the count: 2, 4, 6, 8, 2. I found no requirement for contradicting first/last lines so I choose not to do so.
I figured I couldn't finish out the month without at least one christmas poem. So when *Lahtiirah gave me a prompt today, I instantly thought, if Santa has to be Santa for all eternity...don't you think that would start to wear on him?. The following was born instantly.
Honestly, if I wasn't so damn lazy, I could probably have written another twenty stanzas. This is actually a decidedly interesting form to write in. I used internal rhyme because I felt it would tie the line together and reduce the choppiness inherent in the syllabic restrictions.
This is my twenty first submission for the December Form Challenge from #ProjectDFC. You can read the rest of my entries here.
Prompt: "It's only forever."
A cinq-cinquain is one longer poem formed of five cinquains. A cinquain is a poem of 5 lines that does not have to rhyme. It is written in iambic meter and the syllables in each line must follow the count: 2, 4, 6, 8, 2. I found no requirement for contradicting first/last lines so I choose not to do so.
I figured I couldn't finish out the month without at least one christmas poem. So when *Lahtiirah gave me a prompt today, I instantly thought, if Santa has to be Santa for all eternity...don't you think that would start to wear on him?. The following was born instantly.
Honestly, if I wasn't so damn lazy, I could probably have written another twenty stanzas. This is actually a decidedly interesting form to write in. I used internal rhyme because I felt it would tie the line together and reduce the choppiness inherent in the syllabic restrictions.
This is my twenty first submission for the December Form Challenge from #ProjectDFC. You can read the rest of my entries here.
© 2012 - 2024 TheDorsai
Comments2
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This is great. I deeply appreciate the sentiment. Nice use of subtle rhyme, too.