Tag: Poetry
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Time is A Mother
As expected, Time is a Mother is a deeply moving, poignant work of art that depicts grief and a striking mix of internal violence and chaos (or at least that’s what I was getting).
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The Book of Jon
Sikelianos’s writing is poignant and unsentimental all at once. And with a single thread, she skillfully weaves together poems, prose, snapshots and photographs of her brilliant, loving, heroine addicted and failing father.
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Bless the Daughter Raised by a Voice in Her Head
If you want a one line summation of my thoughts here it is: Everyone should read this collection. I think this review will benefit from simplicity, because it’s really that simple. Pick it up.
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Don’t Date A Girl Who Reads
A girl who reads will know if you’ve really read Pride and Prejudice or if you’ve lazily googled the summary on SparkNotes. She won’t be impressed by the way you understand the symbolism in Animal farm because it’s already painfully obvious. She knows Romeo isn’t a figure of love and that Gatsby didn’t need Daisy,…
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“How Do You Know You’re A Writer?”
Sometimes the words fall through the tips of my fingers with the same excruciating slowness as that of the leaves of a hibiscus detaching itself from its stem.
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Sunshine Saviour
I see you and the winter of my gaze turns into autumn. my heart opens itself to spring and before I know it the midnight of my soul has filled my every vein with sunlight. Every day with you is summer.
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a simple confession
I don’t know the exact moment it happened. I don’t remember where or even how. But suddenly the stars were silent, the sky devoid of everything except the w h i s p e r of the moon.
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Sea of Silence (Look, it’s a working title ok?)
Tonight I laid beneath a galaxy of emotion Striking, and paralyzing, and somber and I wondered
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Letting Go
I unfolded it from the awkward skeleton of emotions it had become From the confining lines of unshared passions and unsure promises And with sure and gentle fingers, with a little bit of sadness too, I refashioned it with all its imperfections and all its torn sides– into a blue paper crane That could crane…
Via Justine De Fant 