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Literature Text
click, numbers roll, numbers dance
like so many angels on the head of a pin.
i close my eyes and entrance;
the tip of my pen is the tip of my lance,
so go forth, young knight, and win.
click, numbers roll, numbers dance.
like so many angels on the head of a pin,
the world takes a guess and a glance.
we'll theorize and fall, we'll whorl and we'll spin,
and lord only knows the trouble we're in,
but we'll face it all, choke it down with a grin,
as click, numbers roll, numbers dance.
like so many angels on the head of a pin.
i close my eyes and entrance;
the tip of my pen is the tip of my lance,
so go forth, young knight, and win.
click, numbers roll, numbers dance.
like so many angels on the head of a pin,
the world takes a guess and a glance.
we'll theorize and fall, we'll whorl and we'll spin,
and lord only knows the trouble we're in,
but we'll face it all, choke it down with a grin,
as click, numbers roll, numbers dance.
Literature
Numbers
Dear all the important numbers in my life:
Social security number,
I’ve known you since birth
School year,
I’m glad I outgrew you
Years of my life,
You never match the age of my soul
Credit score,
We’ve had our ups and downs
Years I’ve lived under the same roof,
Never long enough
Library card number,
You’re the most important number of all
Literature
Light Switch
And as cliche as it may be,
When we take "the long sleep",
We don't get night-lights.
And the truth is-
I'm scared of the dark.
So, no, I'm not "ready"-
I'll never be "ready"-
But I know
That I never want to reach the point where my hands
Are too shaky to hold a pencil,
Because I have nothing left to write down.
I know that I don't want to die like some out-grown t-shirt,
Crumbled and fading in an unconcerned closet,
I know that I don't want to go stale in some hospital cabinet,
Alone with a too-loud TV and the nagging idea that whatever I did,
I should have done more .
When I die,
I want to die as me,
Not this wrinkled t
Literature
Letter to Death
Dear Death,
Why did you take Coach Eric away? It was so sudden. One day in spring we’re taking the state test and the guys’ volleyball team goes to some “emergency meeting” during lunch, and when we get back to the classroom my science teacher tells me Coach Eric passed away. I didn’t understand, just kind of got a chill, because he was probably in his late thirties or early forties, had two young daughters, and was fit as hell, like he could jumpserve and block and spike like no other middle-aged man I’ve met, and no one could have expected a heart attack in a million years. And yet… he was gone.
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So I'm doing this thing where I write a poem every day for a year. Birthday to birthday. 365 of 'em.
This is the first one. I won't post 'em all, but there are a few good ones, so. *nod*
All: [link]
This is the first one. I won't post 'em all, but there are a few good ones, so. *nod*
All: [link]
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This is brilliant!