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Daily Deviation
Daily Deviation
July 26, 2016
Fool in the Rain by Cherry-Oh-Sundae takes us on a spin through the seasons, with the knowledge that springs always comes back.
Featured by TheMaidenInBlack
Literature Text
I heard that summer was just
around the open bend, cusped
by the sparkling tears of spring.
But, her hand, it had no ring,
so she gave way in a rush.
I guess that winter crushed
the weedy, spurious
hope we were on the brink,
but spring’s gonna come around here again.
I heard that summer came around rainless
I saw that autumn stole away the trust.
You know that winter always leaves her sting.
Ever freezing, whirring, blurring, slurring,
but spring’s gonna come around here again.
Literature
Autumn Again
i. Autumn
The leaves are just starting to turn –
someone has been tattooing them,
highlighting their silhouettes
with goldenrod,
and gossamer dew pearls
hang in the grass in the early morning.
We can feel the frost framing our days,
the hint of it in our cups of tea
and in our scarves draped over sweatshirts
(it’s not quite cold enough for a coat yet),
and in the musk of the understory and the fireplaces
that fill our lungs and
we exhale this out into the night and
we form nebulae with the water vapor in our breath.
And when the first echoes of shivers
start to blur our outlines,
we snuggle, sweater to sweater,
and dream of
Literature
The Guide
For a minute there I thought I
was at the wrong house. Then you tried
to fetch your toast with a fork, while
it was plugged in. Now the tile
floor is scuffed up and you're all fried.
Makes my job easy. Oh don't try
to plead or beg. This is your time
to follow me, no need to lie
for a minute
or an hour. Whichever kind
of bargain you have isn't my
problem. My job is to file
your soul for future trial.
Though, I guess, I'll let you cry
for a minute.
Literature
traffic on the overpass under the fingernails
and while alacrity
is still
quite far out of reach,
my hands stretch, spreading out
like skeletal maps, each bone
finding breathing room, each vein
a highway being built
even as the cars continue to drive
(trying to fix a train as it moves down the tracks)
and they disassemble,
they pull themselves apart
at the joints,
to build a floating bridge of
little white hopes,
thin little ribbons
licking the potential
to fly
(but the road is anfractuous,
and they’ll drive forever,
circumnavigating the potholes
and finding their way back
to where they started)
our cognitive maps don’t h
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For a holiday contest, prompted by "No winter lasts forever; no spring skips its turn. - Hal Borland."
Honestly, I think this villanelle got away from me a bit. Whoops.
EDIT: This poem won second place! Thank you to all who enjoyed it.
Honestly, I think this villanelle got away from me a bit. Whoops.
EDIT: This poem won second place! Thank you to all who enjoyed it.
© 2015 - 2024 Ch-Ch-Cherry
Comments33
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This is truly beautiful and shows how everything has its turn. It gives hope in its own unique way. Good times are always ahead, even if it is hard to spot them.