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Daily Deviation
Daily Deviation
January 20, 2013
Glass by =divafica draws the reader in with interesting comparisons.
Featured by thorns
Suggested by xTintedlullabyx
Literature Text
I always laugh when you refer to me as glass.
Not just because of the way you say it,
(glass-as-in-gas).
Or because I know it's a crack at my fragility.
Glass is pure.
I am like granite -
my body nullified from too many clashing traits.
Glass is transparent.
I am like clay -
illegible from all the plastered smiles.
Glass is unyielding.
I am like chalk -
easily broken and scuffed away by meagre things.
Glass is hung up on walls and in great cathedrals,
tinted for enhancement, but only ever painted on by fools.
I am hidden behind keypads and camera lenses,
coated in a thick paste of deceptiveness.
No, my love,
I was never glass. (Despite my fragility)
Call me granite or clay or chalk
and be done with me.
Not just because of the way you say it,
(glass-as-in-gas).
Or because I know it's a crack at my fragility.
Glass is pure.
I am like granite -
my body nullified from too many clashing traits.
Glass is transparent.
I am like clay -
illegible from all the plastered smiles.
Glass is unyielding.
I am like chalk -
easily broken and scuffed away by meagre things.
Glass is hung up on walls and in great cathedrals,
tinted for enhancement, but only ever painted on by fools.
I am hidden behind keypads and camera lenses,
coated in a thick paste of deceptiveness.
No, my love,
I was never glass. (Despite my fragility)
Call me granite or clay or chalk
and be done with me.
Literature
How to Sleep and Never Wake Up
The year they discovered my best friend, twenty years old and silent under the heap of her wrecked car, I learned one can sleep forever and never wake up.
That year, her sister, only seventeen, ate magic mushrooms and lost her mind and her brother, fourteen, started running and stopped eating and I didn't eat magic mushrooms but lost my mind anyway as everyone watched my skin, too white to be real, disintegrate before their eyes.
That year I flew to Colorado to see an urn surrounded by pointe shoes. It reminded me more of a wastebasket than the last I would see of the girl who shared my soul. Her sister ran naked through the street a few da
Literature
Dreamers
She reminds me that she's a dreamer
Her right hand delicately grips a pencil
as she's working equations on a TI-89 with her left
She looks up at me and smiles,
and there are stars, meteors,
spanning across the cosmos of her expression
her countenance reminds me to look up at the chalkboard
that's attempting to teach me how
to make verses sing from pages in a plain 8 by 11 notebook
and I am only armed with
a .7 pencil and a purple pen,
stolen from my older sister's pencil pouch
My hands are inches away from hers
from the desks side by side
like cars parallel parked on a side road
her equations confuse me
until she flips the
Literature
Dormant
Winter is a blank slate,
but not like Rousseau's—
it cleanses
sucking out warmth like poison
leaving only windburnt frost
tacked to the window pane
all we remember
is the numbness
the shuddering
skittish steps across the ice
snowflakes pasted to our faces
smoke rising from our lips
dragged across bleak clouds
winter has us captured
bound by fur and walls
drifting in our eggshelled silence
bone cold until we birth ourselves by warmth
emerge from our shells wet and heaving
uncurl our fingers one by one
joints crackling like fire at our backs
until spring comes
drip by tender drip
old wounds thaw
we are found raw,
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divafica
Written for poetry-book's 'Scratch That' audition. Wish me luck!.
More like this:
:thumb305840769::thumb309799204::thumb330830750:
Written for poetry-book's 'Scratch That' audition. Wish me luck!.
More like this:
:thumb305840769::thumb309799204::thumb330830750:
© 2012 - 2024 divafica
Comments79
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Overall Vision Originality Technique ImpactThat was simply amazing. The emotion was there, and it had smoothness, as if going over polished glass <img src="e.deviantart.net/emoticons/b/b…" width="15" height="15" alt="
" title=" (Big Grin)"/>I am astounded by what you described yourself, by such realism. You tried to show your true self, with all of your flaws, showing your imperfection. You showed me and the readers your weaknesses without shame, showing that you long accepted them and that they can't be treated as such anymore. You accomplished what not many could do: accept who you are and embrace it. This is an amazing poem you wrote, you expressed your soul and your true emotions deciding to not hide behind a mask anymore. You let the deception fade.