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Literature Text
Breakers melt into the cliffside, much like
sighs melting into the dark of
a room. The spray left behind
swirls like confetti, kissing
skin that glows in the
setting sunlight--
Everything
gilded
gold.
sighs melting into the dark of
a room. The spray left behind
swirls like confetti, kissing
skin that glows in the
setting sunlight--
Everything
gilded
gold.
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Literature
Astronaut
Professor you got to believe me
Before this life, I was a astronaut
I know when I look at the stars
I don't belong here
There is a feeling coming up
Somebody is waiting me back home
They are calling for me
I know I can hear
Whispers of the vaccum
As I drift in the empty space
No longer living
Only existing
And so we can't find a habithable planet
Where are we going when this one is out
Where's the nearest galaxy
Do we ever gonna be there someday?
You need to believe me
Get your feet of the ground
In the night, look at the sky
There is some place there
Nothing like here
Nothing like anywhere
I'm passing by It now
It's a blue planet
I know
Literature
not quite, but wings
it is not quite winter
yet it has been,
in another sense
for far too long
since he left
the snow of those
events never
changed. the
caterpillar
walked in bare feet,
and found
half a chrysalis
and now, with
cold caterpillar
feet still
this winter
butterfly wings
have come
at perhaps
the wrong season
but here we
are with strange
changes and
dammit flapping
for flying with
cold feet
is just the way
Literature
sappho.
imagine
a city that sings.
imagine a restless night,
a rain-washed sky, a
little cafe on the corner.
and there you are,
college-age sappho
penning poems in a
macbook, blue jeans
ripped at the knee.
neon light flickers.
your fingers dance,
your feet tap to the
rhythm on the radio,
your eyes are far away.
your shoulder blades
cast shadows on your
stardust-freckled skin.
you are lost in poetry.
you are beautiful
beyond words.
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I've been meaning to write a poem about Sunset Cliffs for awhile now--ever since last summer when I vacationed in San Diego. It truly is a beautiful place. (But then again, isn't any ocean scenery beautiful? :3)
This particular poetry scheme is called a Nonet: First line is 9 syllables, second line is 8, and so on.
This particular poetry scheme is called a Nonet: First line is 9 syllables, second line is 8, and so on.
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Comments3
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Beautiful work!