It was found, lost, and then found again. I try not to languish in the losing, but rejoice in the rediscovery.
Don't wanna be here? Send us removal request.
Text
Meddled with metal
To prove your mettle and met
All with medal dead
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blank lines do not say nothing
Anne Carson, The Glass Essay
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Be
(A Short, Short Story)
He said, "I am who I am."
I said, "I am too."
We smiled.
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Eye, the tornado's core,
having such narrow clarity
won't claim
destruction
or realize
power
I, a force of nature,
extending beyond
known limits
destroy reality
to see
you
claim
power
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Dear Sisters, Stay Strong
all bodies bleed, none
Live immune to the pull
from Moon. period.
❤
#writers on tumblr#haiku poem#women writers#loveislove#loveoverhate#live your truth#you are strong#you are amazing#you are not alone#solidarity
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#writers on tumblr#meditateformindandsoul#community#self care#care for each other#I wish the best for you#journal entry
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This is...
father
a father
the Father
your father
what a father could be
what a father should be
mother
a mother
the Mother
your mother
what a mother could be
what a mother should be
family
a family
the Family
your family
what a family could be
what a family should be
perspective
a perspective
your perspective
my perspective
what our perspectives should be
what our perspectives could be
This is rhetoric.
#free verse#poets on tumblr#poem#what happens when a creative writing student takes a rhetorical theory class#don't manipulate#connect#community over control#empathy
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Unrequite
I ask my sister if it ever feels like she's trying to get water from an empty well.
She says no
Squeeze water from a stone?
No.
Melt ice in the Arctic?
No.
Waiting for rain in a drought?
"All your metaphors are impossible," she says.
"No, rain in a drought isn't impossible. The atmosphere just isn't right."
She tells me his actions show that he cares even if he doesn't want to--isn't able to admit it.
She'll bring them up to him
like proof,
like pointing out clouds in the sky.
"'That's not a cloud,'" she says he'd say.
"'It doesn't mean rain.'"
"The meteorologist predicted rain," she'd say.
"'That still doesn't mean it's rain.'"
Instead of seeing me, she's focused on her impossible sky.
And now water fills my desert eyes--I finally understand.
I too have been desperate for rain.
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Muffled gasps idle
in my car; sunshine chokes on
unseen exhaustion.
#writers on tumblr#haiku poem#poetry#poets on tumblr#car thoughts#mental ill health#take care of your mental health#it's been a while
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Get up
Have you ever wanted
to succeed
so badly
that you didn't rise
from bed
for fear
of failure
?
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One Short Day
My laced-up soles of rubber beat along
the concrete veins of New York's pulsing streets.
Surging with wanderlust, I stand among
storied towers and wonder at the feat.
Perfected plans fracture in that moment
and jolt awake my soul to find inside
a fragment piece unmapped adventures meant
for wanderers with gaping eyes held wide.
I stumble to new heights: Van Gogh's Ear pops,
mute candle choirs breath beneath stained-glass skies,
caricatures are drawn by vibrant shops.
My heart beats still as this sultry day dies.
Life's peaks, in thrumming cadence but apart,
are proof to me that the soul entwines the heart.
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Losing Popo
He told the same stories
Now he asks the same questions
"Where are my keys?
I've lost my keys."
You dangle a ring of opening doors
"These are your keys."
"Oh, yes," he agrees,
"But where are my keys?"
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Shower
home's fiberglass
womb respites soul's wounds from
muddied body and muddled mind
renews
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There once was a silly old ape
who liked to eat old, rotten grapes.
One night he got drunk
and fought with a monk-
we tried to repair him with tape.
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Bus Stop beneath the Maple
Winged leaf whirls around,
Child's wonder twirling down
lands by fallen pecan nut,
seed with seed, so I pick them up
to break sweet fruit from her jagged shell
and to trace green veins with my dirty nail.
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