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Daily Deviation
Daily Deviation
July 14, 2017
Story Time by bubbybubbles12
Featured by doughboycafe
Suggested by BlackBowfin
Literature Text
Where honey bees blend into sunsets
They sit in a crooked circle
Writing non-love poems
Writing stories
Writing the lives of the living they never knew
As documents or poems or journal entries
Encoded with flavors only the pen knows
And curiously
They pass those words down the line
They read
They think
And pass the papers back, then begin again
With a new dream, speckled with what they know now
Like nascent freckles in the wrinkles of a sun-worn face.
They sit in a crooked circle
Writing non-love poems
Writing stories
Writing the lives of the living they never knew
As documents or poems or journal entries
Encoded with flavors only the pen knows
And curiously
They pass those words down the line
They read
They think
And pass the papers back, then begin again
With a new dream, speckled with what they know now
Like nascent freckles in the wrinkles of a sun-worn face.
Literature
For --
Bloom, bloom, bloom,
by the window, by the sun,
by the cooling shade of soft green cedar,
bloom, bloom, bloom.
When the chrysanthemums baldly raises
its heavy head to the dim-lit skies,
or cicadas shrill in train-speed rhythm
buzz and rest their wings on your shivering thighs
do not fear the world, the strangeness of Nature,
do not flip your pale small eyelids and waver.
Whenever burly oaks grow, wild-strong branches wide,
and benign barley bend and bow in a smile;
No - this too high; No - this too low,
Bloom, bloom, bloom.
Literature
continual wandering
i'm going 80 on i-80 until i see the sun behind me
leaving the glow of
skylines and streetlights far behind
moving west towards the iowa sky
there's a stretch of the west coast
my feet have yet to roam
and it's been years since
i've filled my lungs
with pacific air
there's a cloud over i-5
passing through portland
a peaceful grey sky awaits me
i'm miles from my bed
but i've never been more awake
the ocean whips waves
in my direction
the pacific spray
rejuvenates me
i feel as young as i did
the first time around
i'm looking at the moon
from a different angle
this may not be home
but in this moment
it feels pretty damn close
Literature
The Guide
For a minute there I thought I
was at the wrong house. Then you tried
to fetch your toast with a fork, while
it was plugged in. Now the tile
floor is scuffed up and you're all fried.
Makes my job easy. Oh don't try
to plead or beg. This is your time
to follow me, no need to lie
for a minute
or an hour. Whichever kind
of bargain you have isn't my
problem. My job is to file
your soul for future trial.
Though, I guess, I'll let you cry
for a minute.
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We live on in the memories of those whose lives we've touched. Without meaning to, we immortalize others within ourselves. Perhaps that is where we begin to act as one another's salvation; sometimes we need help finding ourselves again, and we need the assistance of someone who remembers what that meant. We live on in our pens, in our brushes, in our dreams, and in our breaths, whenever we pass on a lesson to whoever will stop and listen.
Read slowly, please.
Read slowly, please.
© 2017 - 2024 bubbybubbles12
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