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Literature Text
When we ran out of water,
we were four miles from the end of the trail.
It felt longer. The path kept winding upwards,
just out of view, and we believed
the end was at the top of each climb.
The beauty that must have been around us:
the mountains, thick with their carpet of trees;
the trees, lush with their vibrant, summer greens;
and the blue-winged butterflies that I saw briefly
as they fluttered into view.
This must be Hell—
to be submerged in beauty, but to wander
with your head hung low from thirst,
your eyes set to the trail, thinking
"a little farther, then I'm out."
we were four miles from the end of the trail.
It felt longer. The path kept winding upwards,
just out of view, and we believed
the end was at the top of each climb.
The beauty that must have been around us:
the mountains, thick with their carpet of trees;
the trees, lush with their vibrant, summer greens;
and the blue-winged butterflies that I saw briefly
as they fluttered into view.
This must be Hell—
to be submerged in beauty, but to wander
with your head hung low from thirst,
your eyes set to the trail, thinking
"a little farther, then I'm out."
Literature
plumbum
she has a heart of gold
and she, a heart of lead
and she, a heart of uranium.
and they go walking sometimes, the three of them.
gold is confident in her worth,
untarnishable
bought and sold and bought and sold
the virgin whore
and lead behind,
heart heavy in her chest
guilt from bullets
and pride from pipes
and anxiety from irreparable brain damage
and somewhere off to the side treads uranium,
tumors growing,
white skin glowing,
thin frame for a dense core.
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The Silo Complex
"You won't believe what I just saw in the field."
I sighed at Eloise in the doorway. "Another dead raccoon? How big was it this time? You know it's just maggots, right?"
"No, that wasn't it. I saw a man."
"Was it John?"
"No."
"Fox?"
"It was a man, but it wasn't really a man. Almost a man."
"Almost a man?" She had recently taken to wandering in the fields under gray skies, thinking that she'd find her answers among the abandoned farm equipment and rows of dried corn husks. She never did. Just raccoons. I never heard anything about men who
Literature
A Pocket Full of Sky
When I was young, my father would take me to the highest tower of Notre Dame precisely once a year. It would be cold. Freezing. But we'd stand there, and take deep breaths of air, and peer down, towards the tiny ants of people below. Down, towards the sprawling city beneath us. It was always winter, when we'd go. Always cold. Freezing, freezing. But however cold it was, and however dull and bleary the weather, my father would ask one thing, and one thing only: that we adhered to tradition.
"Lucie," he would say, with the fond smile and kind eyes I always remember. "Lucie, my peach. Whatever you become, and wherever your heart and mind leads
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A rough draft from my hiking experience this weekend.
Also, I can finally and officially request a critique! This premium membership thing is so cool. If the anon who gifted it to me is reading this, you are fan-freaking-tastic.
Edit: Changed some punctuation around based on the wonderful feedback from . This was actually surprisingly difficult to do, as each different punctuation mark changed the flow of the poem--for me at least. Let me know what you think, or even if you can notice the change.
Thanks, everyone, for all your help
Also, I can finally and officially request a critique! This premium membership thing is so cool. If the anon who gifted it to me is reading this, you are fan-freaking-tastic.
Edit: Changed some punctuation around based on the wonderful feedback from . This was actually surprisingly difficult to do, as each different punctuation mark changed the flow of the poem--for me at least. Let me know what you think, or even if you can notice the change.
Thanks, everyone, for all your help
© 2012 - 2024 Aumnren
Comments32
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Let me start by saying that this piece was absolutely gorgeous. The idea of being lost somewhere in the wilderness is used often in poetry. It's truly rare when it's done well, but you've definitely achieved that here.
I like that you start the poem with "When we ran out of water," as it really puts an urgency there that draws the reader in. By adding the distance you are from the end of the trail and how elusive that end seems, you increase that feeling of desperation, frustration, and exhaustion. It helped to set the tone and the setting of the poem immediately. However, I would suggest adding a comma after "upwards" and changing "We would believe" to "We believed" just to improve the flow and readability. You might also want to have "It felt longer." be its own line to add some more emphasis on that feeling of desperation, but that's up to you!
The second stanza brings a strange sense of relief with it as you go from talking about the futility of reaching the end of the trail to the beautiful scenery you imagine you're missing. It provides a good contrast while still holding to the theme, which is difficult to pull off. Furthermore, you provide some gorgeous imagery that I could see perfectly in my mind's eye. My only criticisms here are that you don't need to capitalize the first letter after the semicolons you use...capitalization's only needed after a full stop. I also feel that "as they fluttered into view--" might be better off with a period at the end before you launch into your final stanza. I can see how they would connect. However, I think that the statement is stronger with a more defined end. Again, these are just my opinions! If you like it as is, don't change it!
I thoroughly enjoyed the closing of the piece. It tied everything together brilliantly and put a whole new spin on hell for me. So often it's thought of as fire, brimstone, and torture...not taking beauty for granted. The originality of this was highly impressive! Hell is an idea that's as old as religion itself; it is ridiculously hard to be original with it! And, once again, you do very well with really setting the scene for the reader and making them empathize with the speaker. The suggestions I have for this stanza tie into the ones I made for the previous one. "This must be hell:" might read better as "This must be hell--" or "This must be hell;" since it's too connected to the next idea presented to stand on its own with a period. The colon would work fine, but I feel that a semi-colon or dash would add some more power to the line.
All in all, this was a fantastic poem. I adored it! Wonderful job.