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Literature Text
Father razed his head, left home this morning;
didn't say something when they took him away,
but now he's a hero, the kind marching bands sing
in funeral times, for men left in the clay.
Mother razed her head for pride and
honor, it's graved onto the tombstone;
only bodies that embraced the sand
crawl toward this tormented silent throne.
Razed my head, forgot how, why;
figuring what it means, or meant,
a bald person before he dies.
didn't say something when they took him away,
but now he's a hero, the kind marching bands sing
in funeral times, for men left in the clay.
Mother razed her head for pride and
honor, it's graved onto the tombstone;
only bodies that embraced the sand
crawl toward this tormented silent throne.
Razed my head, forgot how, why;
figuring what it means, or meant,
a bald person before he dies.
Literature
Lost on a long road trip
my retina is slowly stretching,
iris toughening, blindness
tracks me like a television.
the cars, too, gleam
of angels who span the paths
apart, summary.
this secret garden of glass.
there is a dome, a roman arch,
and the sunlight naked as sculpture.
an image appears.
a word appears.
this is poetry.
the word disappears,
nothing in place of it.
and then
halfway across Illinois in my car
I see Chicago
spread out like cheap insulation.
the world strays
later, at night, behind a wet field
hide ladders of air. The atmosphere
makes a noise like a shutter.
morning comes as I drive
by flat towns where the road
knifes fr
Literature
Memories of You
(I)
Summer's heat clung to us
like guilty secrets,
so at odds with our childish delight.
We never kept track of the time,
but we knew that we'd been out too long
when our heavy limbs were patterned
with grass and freckles.
I told you that freckles were sun kisses,
and you said that you weren't the jealous type,
but you didn't act like it, did you?
(II)
We combined good posture with slouchy clothes
and found comfort in straight-backed iron chairs.
We rode public buses until midnight
and picked our favourite cafés
based on the songs they played,
thinking that music and food were equal
to our ideas of lo
Literature
precautions.
you hold on to her, a bit tightly, but it's just a precaution.
[a little boy sees the man on the stone wall, face turned towards empty space beside him, hand grasping onto thin air, as if around an invisible shoulder. he watches as the man whispered something, as a tear slides down the man's face, and as he leans towards the space by him, and kisses the air.
then, the curious little boy heads over to the wall, clambers up, scraping his tiny hands in the process, and prods the man's shoulder. "excuse me sir, but why were you talking to yourself?"]
you hold on to her, but it doesn't work out anyway.
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For the 
members, since this poem was planned to be contesting for a prize in the Flames of Revolution Contest, does it reach or touch the concept of revolution? (The concept is the definition given by a dictionary)
Take note that this poem is an unfinished Sonnet (and I'm not planning on reworking on it except to correct faults).
members, since this poem was planned to be contesting for a prize in the Flames of Revolution Contest, does it reach or touch the concept of revolution? (The concept is the definition given by a dictionary)Take note that this poem is an unfinished Sonnet (and I'm not planning on reworking on it except to correct faults).
© 2010 - 2024 Trante
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great piece!