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Literature Text
Now I am toiling in a sea of ruin
against the rush of waves, and tearing grasp
of algae underneath the clouding froth
and battered up against the cracking rocks
I reach and find my finger-tips are torn
and every bulwark that I build is lost
in shattered spars, and iron nails all scraped
on beaten stone, and splintered wood. They fall
to rust amongst a sand of crumpled shells.
I build and build and all is swept away
into the raging sea; into the fray
of shipwreck sores on putrefying reefs
where long-lipped fishes float, and spotted tails
of swaying eels decay. An octopus
crawls deeper in the darkness of his cave.
I try to swim; the salt keeps me afloat
but every breath is burning from the spray.
When wailing waves recede, and drenching hail
melts back into the surf, I will reclaim
the rough and ragged grip of weathered shore
beneath my slippered feet, and I will find
some warmth beneath my worsted-wool dyed cap
and I will swim until the fish remind
me of myself, and me of them. Their scales
will flash the rising sun in every shock
of sudden leap. When desperate storms disperse
I will dive down to scrape a shard of shell
into an eating-knife, and I will trail
the birds back to their rainstorm drinking-wells.
And when the night disturbs the rush of day
I will begin to build, and this time hope
that every arch of spar will somehow stay.
against the rush of waves, and tearing grasp
of algae underneath the clouding froth
and battered up against the cracking rocks
I reach and find my finger-tips are torn
and every bulwark that I build is lost
in shattered spars, and iron nails all scraped
on beaten stone, and splintered wood. They fall
to rust amongst a sand of crumpled shells.
I build and build and all is swept away
into the raging sea; into the fray
of shipwreck sores on putrefying reefs
where long-lipped fishes float, and spotted tails
of swaying eels decay. An octopus
crawls deeper in the darkness of his cave.
I try to swim; the salt keeps me afloat
but every breath is burning from the spray.
When wailing waves recede, and drenching hail
melts back into the surf, I will reclaim
the rough and ragged grip of weathered shore
beneath my slippered feet, and I will find
some warmth beneath my worsted-wool dyed cap
and I will swim until the fish remind
me of myself, and me of them. Their scales
will flash the rising sun in every shock
of sudden leap. When desperate storms disperse
I will dive down to scrape a shard of shell
into an eating-knife, and I will trail
the birds back to their rainstorm drinking-wells.
And when the night disturbs the rush of day
I will begin to build, and this time hope
that every arch of spar will somehow stay.
Literature
Story's End
It was easier to bleed than to write. It was easier to stare back at the beast which watched him bleed out, which waited with frothing mouth and glistening teeth. It was easier to succumb to the crimson stare. Nonetheless, he picked up the pen. His words mingled with his blood, his words were blood, a crimson warning and threnody. His tears came hot and heavy. They sizzled on the dungeon’s stone. In the writing, his wounds stitched together. The spilled blood hissed and ignited. His words became fire, his pen a blazing sword. Now the beast recoiled from him.
Literature
Burn Everything (Transcript for Spoken Word)
Art shapes the heart and sound shapes the soul, Whoever said a falling star was in control? This is how I become Fire from Ice Meteorite I do not belong With heavenly bodies I'm on A collision course I WILL BURN INCANDESCENT AS I FALL {for you} I'll hit the ground Hard Craters on impact An impact crater is a circular depression On the Surface Of any Solid body In the universe Formed By the hyper-velocity impact Of a smaller body Tell me When I crash Can you take the hit? In the absence of atmosphere, The impact process begins when the impactor first Touches the target surface. This contact Accelerates the target and decelerates the impactor. Because the impactor is moving so rapidly, The rear of the object moves a significant distance During the short-but-finite time taken For the deceleration to propagate across the impactor. As a result, the impactor is compressed, its density rises
Literature
lyrical collage
I could create a world with the sound of your voice reflecting sweet syncopation against the brashness of life
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I finally finished Toilers of the Sea! Hugo is a big fav, so I'm glad I'm making progress through his works. Next up is Notre Dame.
Anyway, this poem is obviously inspired by the sea as Hugo describes it. I went for blank verse, and I hope you enjoy! Comments/critiques are always appreciated.
Anyway, this poem is obviously inspired by the sea as Hugo describes it. I went for blank verse, and I hope you enjoy! Comments/critiques are always appreciated.
© 2015 - 2024 williamszm
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This is an example of some fine blank verse. Like the alliterative element too.