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The L-Space Web Copyright © Terry Pratchett 2002 When Death met the philosopher, the philosopher said, rather excitedly: "At this point, you realise, I'm both dead and not dead."
by Shira Lipkin the girl's voice
S he is a breathing book
The pieces of me Were falling through the cracks The pieces of me Shattered from the past These pieces I've Been missing so long You've put them back Where they belong In your shirt pocket Grazing your chest Where those pieces are safe And can be loved best You've found those shards Where someones thrown them away You're now who will Keep them safe Be careful because My thinly severed parts Hardly resemble What once was a heart They may embed Themselves within And splinter you with Broken passion
Here I love you. In the dark pines the wind disentangles itself. The moon glows like phosphorous on the vagrant waters. Days, all one kind, go chasing each other. The snow unfurls in dancing figures.
I want you to know one thing. You know how this is: if I look at the crystal moon, at the red branch of the slow autumn at my window, if I touch near the fire the impalpable ash or the wrinkled body of the log, everything carries me to you, as if everything that exists, aromas, light, metals, were little boats that sail toward those isles of yours that wait for me. Well, now, if little by little you stop loving me I shall stop loving you little by little. If suddenly you forget me do not look for me, for I shall already have forgotten you.
on Apr 6, 2011 A poem that will shake you… “Do not let one moment go by that doesn’t remind you that your heart beats 900 times a day, and there are enough gallons of blood to make everyone of you oceans” ~ Anis Mojgani In the back of a large room at Powel’s Bookstore I was half-heartedly listening to a poet I had never heard of.
Some say the world will end in fire, Some say in ice.
sometimes i take a Shower with the lights off. but before i even finish showering, i turn the lights back On, because i remember how afraid of the dark i am. sometimes i go to the Airport and just sit in there for a few hours. because i like watching people Reunite.
I Don't Remember... I don't remember, any more, The exact shape of your hands As I held them in mine, Caressed them, Memorized the length of your fingers, The depth of your calluses.
I like how you mispronounce words sometimes, how you fumble and stammer and stutter looking for the right ones to say and the right ways to say them. I appreciate that you find language challenging, because it is, because everything manmade is challenging. Including man, including you.
I could have kissed you under cherry blossoms, pale petals drifting down like the trees wanted to pretend they could be snowclouds. I could have kissed you in the rain, drenched to our bones and not even caring that the skies opened up above us and tried to wash us out. I could have kissed you in a clearing in the most secluded woods, with just the sound of wind rustling through the leaves and a few voyeuristic finches peeping at us. Instead, I kissed you in the parking lot of a Waffle House, just shy of 2 a.m. in the middle of a hectic week, with our waitress grinning at us from the other side of the window, because, honestly, how could I not?
Here are lots of poem starters that you can use for your own poetry writing. (If you're looking for story starters instead, click here) . At the bottom of the page, you'll find links to more pages with creative writing ideas.