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Literature Text
the serenade of the schizophrenic,
the melancholic melody of hate.
a cacophony fit for the chronic
illness that devours all who dare wait.
the dance of the diseased acquires moves
so elegant and gracious, like a sway,
enough to dissuade the watching, a ruse
to entice the room to embody gay.
alas, she stumbles over graceful feet
and tumbles to the unforgiving floor,
for the poison has spread from tongue to teat;
never will she waltz with her love once more.
Oh, princess, remember that death's sweet kiss
brings more than the end to a life of bliss.
the melancholic melody of hate.
a cacophony fit for the chronic
illness that devours all who dare wait.
the dance of the diseased acquires moves
so elegant and gracious, like a sway,
enough to dissuade the watching, a ruse
to entice the room to embody gay.
alas, she stumbles over graceful feet
and tumbles to the unforgiving floor,
for the poison has spread from tongue to teat;
never will she waltz with her love once more.
Oh, princess, remember that death's sweet kiss
brings more than the end to a life of bliss.
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Literature
* THE GARDENER *
I have forgotten how your hands
Cared the roots and trimmed the roses
Your fingertips bringing peace to the land
And nature sleeps as this day closes
Tha gardener sprinkling water with a smile
The animals biting the earth in singular way
The soil is happily waiting so fertile
The icy fire dancing lead in a passion play
And still your hands are touching ground
I turn into this burned stone feeling remorse
Suddenly I am singing in your homemade sound
And the water in the woods is taken by force <>
Literature
Forging Foundations
there is part of me that knows these walls
in the same ways I know
unrequited was the dream I used to tie my strings to,
unrequited was the hope I used to fill myself up,
unrequited is just a word I used to be friends with
because you've crooked your fingers
into the hooks of my jeans
and you've hooked my heart,
dangling, a stranger to safety
learning how to let someone lead--
there is a piece of me that fears these feelings
like I fear insects that sting, like I fear wildfires that rage,
like I fear porcelain dolls
with cracked faces and scarred chests
because so far in this life,
all the beautiful things I've ever held
have come to me brok
Literature
Krisengebiete
Wenn Berge aus Stahl nach Osten rollen,
ins Morgenland, wo Affen tollen.
Aus Menschenschweiß,
für Menschentränen
und Menschenblut,
wo Menschen sehnen.
Von Menschenfleisch
zu Menschenbrand,
zu Menschenstaub im wüsten Sand.
Des Menschen Gier
zu Menschenasche.
Silbern glänzt es in der Tasche.
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This is geared towards something I'm considering posting on here. Lately I've had dreams of these two characters (developing them as time goes) and while I don't necessarily like writing prose, because I suck at it, I'm gonna try to give it a hand. Either that or tell their story through a series of poems like I've been doing. Anyway...
constructive criticism is welcome, as always
---
© Ashley Nicole Gilbert
constructive criticism is welcome, as always
---
© Ashley Nicole Gilbert
Comments8
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Great, reminds me of some band's lyrics..