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Literature Text
I've been waiting for you,
Yes, you.
The one who can take some and pitch some back,
With a sense of humor to match mine,
And willing to playfully argue.
Yes, you.
The one brave enough to speak his mind,
Not afraid of emotion, including his own,
And an ability to be sensitive, too.
Yes, you.
The one intelligent enough to contribute,
To keep the conversation alive,
And with goals he wishes to pursue.
Yes, you.
The one with the charmingly crooked smile,
The intently observing eyes,
And welcoming arms to climb into.
Yes, you.
The one patient enough to put up with me,
To love me even at my worst,
Because I would do the same for you.
Yes, you.
I've been waiting.
Yes, you.
The one who can take some and pitch some back,
With a sense of humor to match mine,
And willing to playfully argue.
Yes, you.
The one brave enough to speak his mind,
Not afraid of emotion, including his own,
And an ability to be sensitive, too.
Yes, you.
The one intelligent enough to contribute,
To keep the conversation alive,
And with goals he wishes to pursue.
Yes, you.
The one with the charmingly crooked smile,
The intently observing eyes,
And welcoming arms to climb into.
Yes, you.
The one patient enough to put up with me,
To love me even at my worst,
Because I would do the same for you.
Yes, you.
I've been waiting.
Literature
Father of Mine
You left me behind without a thought,
Gone long before I knew you.
You were the first to hurt me,
And far from the last.
I have no memories of you,
And only thoughts of hate.
I have no name to call you,
For your only ties to me are of blood,
No love,
No help,
Nothing from you,
The man who is supposedly to be my father.
Near 20 years of ignorance,
Yet I gave up on you after five.
You ignored my youth
And my existence.
Shall I ever even see you,
In a passing glance, perchance?
I used to think and wish.
Friends talk not of their fathers,
For fear of hurting me.
But I don't begrudge them their feelings,
No, for I only should
Literature
More
It's the way her hair falls over her eyes
It's the way you know shes empty to the core inside
It's how her knees hit the floor
How she holds her head shaking for something more
As she walks down that street her shadow tips and dips
The truth is more is never enough
What is more to you? What is not enough? Tell her.
Tell the lonely girl with her knees on the floor holding her head begging for more
Literature
now you know better
you were never one for shakespeare's iambic pentameter,
so you nixed the meter and measure the gods composed
and wrote your own sonnet in time with the beat of your heart
and the shiver of your tapered spine.
instead of crisp and company issued egg shell paper,
you dragged the pen you bought yourself back in sixth grade
across the smooth canvas of tanned skin, littered with sunset bruises
and did not mind the clashing of colours.
you always wondered if it were true what the newsstands said,
that art flutters to life when misery takes shape
but you never really believed such nonsense,
until your spine shattered, your inkwell ran dr
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Comments40
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'The one patient enough to put up with me,
To love me even at my worst', these are the two most beautiful lines i have ever read. The whole piece made my heart ache i genuinely loved this poem.
'I've been waiting' is such a powerful sentence, i got the impression she was a typical damsel in distress at first, just waiting and wanting but this is what a lot of people can refer to.
I think this is breath taking, and that you have a lot of talent.
To love me even at my worst', these are the two most beautiful lines i have ever read. The whole piece made my heart ache i genuinely loved this poem.
'I've been waiting' is such a powerful sentence, i got the impression she was a typical damsel in distress at first, just waiting and wanting but this is what a lot of people can refer to.
I think this is breath taking, and that you have a lot of talent.