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Literature Text
I know that you don't have a favourite colour, because you see beauty in absolutely everything. I know how you like your tea in the morning, yet she believes you still can't tell that she puts the milk in first.
Right at the moment you think you could love her, she surprises you. With talk of fashion struggles and gossip columns. And "Does my bum look big in this honey?" And you know in your soul, we'd climb the highest mountain together in the poorest clothes, admiring the world in blissful silence.
And when the skies start to fall, she'll be the first to shelter herself from the storm. In more ways than one and the thought often alarms you. You always did and always will want to sit in the rain. But the difference between what you did and what you do has now changed dramatically. You'll convert to the conventional ways of life. Following schedules and playdates, pressed suits and football matches. Peacemaker with an opressed heart.
She doesn't understand that somtimes you just need to sleep under the stars. The longing for natural air to be the only thing between you and the sky often bordering into your daily mundane routine. And you'll run.
Of course you'll run.
You'll take off on the open road with the windows wound down and that old summer melody blaring loud, rock icons of our past infringing on classical tunes and soft jazz. But she will cry and pull you back. And everytime you'll go but the weeks between the urges to run will get shorter and shorter and shorter until...
You'll realise it.
That you want the other life of spontaneous trips and coffee kicks, easy days and dreamy ways. The life we didn't plan all along. And when you do, when you want to be in the arms of someone who isn't perfect and whose bum sometimes does look big in that dear... But who doesn't care....
...I'm right there.
Right at the moment you think you could love her, she surprises you. With talk of fashion struggles and gossip columns. And "Does my bum look big in this honey?" And you know in your soul, we'd climb the highest mountain together in the poorest clothes, admiring the world in blissful silence.
And when the skies start to fall, she'll be the first to shelter herself from the storm. In more ways than one and the thought often alarms you. You always did and always will want to sit in the rain. But the difference between what you did and what you do has now changed dramatically. You'll convert to the conventional ways of life. Following schedules and playdates, pressed suits and football matches. Peacemaker with an opressed heart.
She doesn't understand that somtimes you just need to sleep under the stars. The longing for natural air to be the only thing between you and the sky often bordering into your daily mundane routine. And you'll run.
Of course you'll run.
You'll take off on the open road with the windows wound down and that old summer melody blaring loud, rock icons of our past infringing on classical tunes and soft jazz. But she will cry and pull you back. And everytime you'll go but the weeks between the urges to run will get shorter and shorter and shorter until...
You'll realise it.
That you want the other life of spontaneous trips and coffee kicks, easy days and dreamy ways. The life we didn't plan all along. And when you do, when you want to be in the arms of someone who isn't perfect and whose bum sometimes does look big in that dear... But who doesn't care....
...I'm right there.
Literature
Foreground
Four thirty AM
I am standing in my kitchen
wearing my dark blue dressing gown
building a time machine
from assorted cutlery
and a broken microwave.
I am visiting you
three years ago.
I have calendars for you
with notes written each day:
some are highlighted orange
to show you when to ignore
the things I say.
Others are circled blue,
and on these occasions
I meant every word.
I am smiling at you,
already knowing the day you leave
I will understand
in time, despite what I say.
You look at me quizzically:
bemused by this odd smiling.
It’s four years later:
upsetting things we said
seem like empty noise,
instinctive
Literature
lets embrace silence and dance
"I don't want to talk."
Do you remember our friendship? You were my best friend, you know that. We used the sticky, summer sand to have snowball fights by the water, because we both knew it would never snow in the heat. Oh, and that sand hurt, but we laughed through the pain. I guess pain is meaningless when you're seven. At night we wandered down the pier and chased the lightning bugs in and out of the tide. If we were lucky enough, we could catch one. Your luck was always better than mine. Lighting up the shore, we kept them in jars and placed them in a circle. I gave you my grandmother's bracelet, kissed you on the cheek, blushed, and to
Literature
trust me i'm making an effort.
i smashed a plate today. the pieces went flying everywhere.
there is a point at which it doesn't make a difference anymore. i am better but better is not good enough and never ever will be.
i smashed a plate today. all the tempting big and little pieces had sharp edges.
there is a point at which i stop caring that i am bigger and better and stronger. this is the point where i can stop denying that i am beautiful because i don't even care anymore.
i didn't hurt myself because i would be letting too many people down.
it's a shame that they love me so much;
if they didn't, maybe this gut-wrenching fear wouldn't be so strong in the first p
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I've noticed quite often lately that there's a trend that males, and females, go for, and that the different and the extraordinary in quiet ways, don't often get noticed. So that's where this stemmed from.
This is about the girl next door versus the girl from the time before.
You are NOT authorised to use my work © 2010 - 2024 Kaz-D
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Overall
Vision
Originality Technique Impact<img src="e.deviantart.net/emoticons/a/a…" width="15" height="15" alt="
" title="Aww"/> this is beautifully done.i love the feeling in this one!
just one suggestion- the end when you say "You'll realise it" - (I think it's correct in your country but it bothers me because in America it's spelled with a z, minor detail, but I guess I'm a prude... <img src="e.deviantart.net/emoticons/g/g…" width="17" height="15" alt="
" title="Giggle"/>) I think the word realize isn't as strong as I had expected. At that last line... "the urges to run will get shorter and shorter and shorter until..." builds me up and then it's just not as strong. Perhaps if it were something stronger like "You'll know it." or something like that.Then the emphasis later on the word you... "And when you do, when you want to be in the arms of someone..." That emphasis through me off a little and I had to reread it. Perhaps the emphasis should be placed on the word "do" instead of "you"? Or were you emphasizing "you" for a reason? If that's the case, then I would ask... well, who else? <img src="e.deviantart.net/emoticons/s/s…" width="15" height="15" alt="
" title=" (Smile)"/>Those are my only two suggestions. I love the repetition in the "does my bum look big" part - but perhaps you should use the same words there to make that repetition more solid. And in the last paragraph the word "sometimes" there seems a little out of place for some reason... perhaps if you moved it to appear after the word "dear" (or "honey" whichever you choose to use to mirror the earlier phrase).
Overall the emotions run so strong in this piece. It is a beautiful summery of a woman waiting for her dreams to come true. It's a lovely longing that gets the reader hoping for this girl, yet you know this is only one side of the story. <img src="e.deviantart.net/emoticons/c/c…" width="20" height="20" alt="
" title="Clap"/> Great work!