Author Topic: Roserade's Writings  (Read 1788 times)

Isabelle

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Re: Roserade's Writings
« Reply #20 on: July 18, 2018, 03:18:51 PM »


Ridley is into literature.

Sorry, that sounded too hilarious to ignore.

Roserade

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Re: Roserade's Writings
« Reply #21 on: July 24, 2018, 11:55:30 PM »
Summer Thoughts

Lay across the sunburnt grass
and count
    One,
two
as the evening clouds
    dance away from your fingertips
and your thoughts soon turn to
Simpler times,
when the world was as painted
     as it is
Now.

    Three, four.
Let the muted greens
    drift you across a calm sea
as the people pass,
Undertered,
    while you only float,
swaying with the cool breeze and your
Thoughts.

This is what you remember,
This is what you've wanted again in your palm for
    So
Long.
Too long
have you waited for
     This moment
to arrive.

Five,
     six.
Lay back across the sunburnt grass,
and think of
Now,
    think your purest
Thoughts.
Close your eyes
in
     Bliss.

     Seven,
eight.
Because this is what life
should be.

Roserade

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Re: Roserade's Writings
« Reply #22 on: September 13, 2018, 01:09:45 AM »
Grounded in Thought

       Being
Grounded in Thought
means not
that my head
cannot
       Soar
       above
the clouds;

Nor that my
ideas cannot cause
rippling Waves
        beneath your
Balancing feet;

Nor that my words
cannot assist to
Shape
the
       whole
World.

Words I Like

  I like the word "cascade"
because it
    stre
       am
            s
    down your tongue
just as
  it Should.

  I like the word
"petal"
  because it              ats
                               flo
and   flut
                 ters
wherever it wishes
   to Go.

  I like the word
"balance" because
it                            stays
            equal
    right on the
tip of
   my Tongue.
My               Tongue.

  I like the word "bro
ther"   because
   it
doesn't
       tear
the word from
           my small
   Mouth.

I like the word
   "me"  because
     Why?
Because
        it's me
    Nobody
me
     You can't.

I like
  the word.
                           "Yes."
   Because I never
never
   need to
  say No.
         There's No.

Roserade

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Re: Roserade's Writings
« Reply #23 on: September 17, 2018, 04:39:27 PM »
Witnessing Hands

     It was not
My fault
     your crooked fingers coiled
about the silver barrel,

     Not My Fault
you
     splintered your toughened hands
upon impact
     with the
g i l d e d   floor.

     Not Mine
when the animation
trickled like i
                         nk out of
every inch
         of your sinful appendages,

     Nor Mine
when
     hands became no more
hands
     than
   Cold, Broken
                             stone.

Roserade

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Re: Roserade's Writings
« Reply #24 on: September 26, 2018, 09:45:35 PM »
As I've mentioned before in my ask thread, I'm back in my writing class this year, which means a whole lot more writing is happening every day for me. For the sake of not spamming this thread, I'm drawing out when I post, but most likely with a greater number of pieces to compensate. In the meantime, though, here's a longer one I'm fairly proud of.

Counting on my Fingers

   The first time
                           I experienced
Death,
            I did not know what it was.
   So with a beaming morning face and young, rose cheeks
     I recounted stories of apple peelers
                   and collecting stones and stories
        and playing lazily
with him.

   The second time
                                 I experienced
Death,
            I did not know what it was.
   So when she passed amongst those in her home,
      I was instructed to go to the den
                                                                and busy myself.
   I booted up the rickety computer
              and played Bejeweled;
and I broke the rainbow gems,
                                                      while their hearts broke.

   The third time
                            I experienced
Death,
            I did not know what it was
          until three days after.
   I had known what the word meant,
                                                                 but not what
Death
 meant.
   It took a downpouring sky
         a scruffy soccer field
                    a pencil and a notebook.
to know Death.
                           I cried,
   but not enough.

   The fourth time
                            I experienced Death,
I knew it.
   and yet
                 it did not stop the guilt, the dumb.
Death was no longer a concept,
       it was my dog,
                                 and my dog was
Gone.
   It's one thing
to be dead, and another
                               to be Gone. I felt
as though
                   I was
                                     Gone.

   Sometimes, I find myself
         hopeful
                       that by some magical circumstance
some miracle
        she will be laying, sprawled, across my bed
   when I wake up drowzy,
                                              her paws will clicker-clack
         across the kitchen floor,
               that I'll finally have my unbridled love
and comfort and
   home
                               back.

But all I can do
                           is prepare for
                        the fifth time.

   The fifth time
                            I experience
Death,
             I will know who it is
         and I will not
                                 Not
                                         Never
                                                     be
   Gone.

Roserade

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Re: Roserade's Writings
« Reply #25 on: November 12, 2018, 04:50:45 PM »
Thinking Back

Popping    up     and
                                 down     the street
   Strutting your strolling feet,
                                                           Dancing, moving
                                           in a world all          own.
                                                                  your
Perhaps, someday,
                               with the four-four beat
                sw           aying  your hips and
                                                      swinging your hair,
       I can join
                       you.
                                Beautiful
                                Beautiful
                                                  you.