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Literature Text
The first: Yule season starts near Halloween
And bloated, swells to pester New Year's Eve
(Thanksgiving sandwiched somewhere in between).
Behold our jolly prophet: we believe
'Tis profit both to give and to receive!
The second: O how fallen, wise men's star
That lighting Rome, set all the world ablaze;
Have we of God's anointed sunk so far
That we must sing our plastic Savior's praise
Beneath His halo's blinking neon rays?
The third: exchanging Sunday's itchy dress
For blue jeans and a T-shirt by the flames
We gaze through glass on frosted wilderness
And whistling bits of Rudolph's reindeer games
Swap scraps inscribed with Secret Santa names.
The fourth: beneath twin white fluorescent bars
He checks bacterial cultures - still alive -
And scoops three samples up to go in jars.
He notes the date new samples will arrive
And idly scrawls December 25.
And bloated, swells to pester New Year's Eve
(Thanksgiving sandwiched somewhere in between).
Behold our jolly prophet: we believe
'Tis profit both to give and to receive!
The second: O how fallen, wise men's star
That lighting Rome, set all the world ablaze;
Have we of God's anointed sunk so far
That we must sing our plastic Savior's praise
Beneath His halo's blinking neon rays?
The third: exchanging Sunday's itchy dress
For blue jeans and a T-shirt by the flames
We gaze through glass on frosted wilderness
And whistling bits of Rudolph's reindeer games
Swap scraps inscribed with Secret Santa names.
The fourth: beneath twin white fluorescent bars
He checks bacterial cultures - still alive -
And scoops three samples up to go in jars.
He notes the date new samples will arrive
And idly scrawls December 25.
Literature
One From Two
I'm waiting for you to arrive;
My passion is starting to revive.
Hypnotized by our front door,
I don't think that I can wait anymore.
Anxiousness is breaking in,
And my patience is wearing a gypsy's grin.
When are you gonna be home?
I am restless here when I'm all alone.
So, the moment you're through that door,
I'm gonna pounce and tackle you to the floor,
And kiss your angel face,
So you know you're home in the perfect place.
And later, somewhere in the hall,
I'm gonna randomly grind you against the wall,
And wrap myself up in you;
Pressing close enough to make one from two.
My heart is beating way too fast.
There's not eno
Literature
Your Poem
On the twentieth day of July 69,
For the first time in history,
The moon landed on a man.
The first time such move had been attempted by a celestial body,
A great feat of precision,
Didn't crush the man at all.
You see, we see things from our eyes,
And everyone knows our eyes see upside down.
Or is that the right way up?
I could tell you about walking through deserts,
The beauty of running water, of rain,
You'd be thinking of TV shows.
When was the last time you were challenged,
Walked away from a conversation stunned.
Who are you listening to, me or yourself?
If beauty is in the eye of the beholder,
Is meaning in the eye of t
Literature
With Every Step
I dream of laughing with you,
Under the sun.
I walk a mile with a smile,
But then the rain comes.
I dream of peaceful nights,
Under the stars.
I make a plan to hold your hand,
But then I push you too far.
I need you now,
More than you know I do;
But I can't catch my breath while my head is spinning.
I keep climbing, scraping, scratching and crawling,
And with every step I feel like I'm falling.
I dream of breathing,
Under your smile.
I begin to make you grin,
But then I cry for a while.
I dream of sleeping,
Under your skin.
I keep praying to my brain,
But it won't let me let you in.
I need you now,
More than I say I do;
Suggested Collections
Another try at a Christmas poem. This one is for psykotikrage's Christmas contest (although, as I never did hear back from her about it, I'm not sure it was actually entered into the contest).
© 2006 - 2024 bbd127
Comments6
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Wow this was amazing. I definitely understood the "four different perspective thing". My two favorite were the "fun" and "indifferent" one. The "indifferent" one seemed a bit depressing, though, for me. I love the holidays. It would seem that someone who only recognized it as a way to record data would be very lonely, indeed. The fun one was also depressing, in a way. It seemed that the people in this stanza didn't really care for the tradition of the holiday. They just wanted to do "whatever they want". This is exemplifying a secular way of living and it's the epitome of modern civilization. Thus, depressing.
I'm sorry I'm not very good at advanced critiques. I've so much more I could say about this poem. It was very thought provoking.
I shall leave it at that.
I'm sorry I'm not very good at advanced critiques. I've so much more I could say about this poem. It was very thought provoking.
I shall leave it at that.