5 Poems by Erin Slaughter - Hello My friend, Welcome to the world of Beautiful Mom
where it�s okay to be different! Denesene, in this article with title 5 Poems by Erin Slaughter, we already prepared the article to be read
Article Love, we wrote this article to you, happy reading.
Tilte : 5 Poems by Erin Slaughter
link : 5 Poems by Erin Slaughter
You are readingf article 5 Poems by Erin Slaughter with link https://denenesommedanser.blogspot.com/2016/05/5-poems-by-erin-slaughter.html
Tilte : 5 Poems by Erin Slaughter
link : 5 Poems by Erin Slaughter
5 Poems by Erin Slaughter
Five Haikus for the Fall of Icarus
1
Pan to the mountains
cut to the writhing city
slow fade out on spring
Pan to the mountains
cut to the writhing city
slow fade out on spring
2
The tip of his tongue
flicking at molten sunlight
cypress blossom sweet
The tip of his tongue
flicking at molten sunlight
cypress blossom sweet
3
Listen to this fact:
Icarus was just a man
falling out of frame
Listen to this fact:
Icarus was just a man
falling out of frame
4
Hopeless descending;
the herder was the only
soul who noticed him
Hopeless descending;
the herder was the only
soul who noticed him
5
Like breath. Acceptance.
On ships, children closed their eyes.
The sea kept churning.
Like breath. Acceptance.
On ships, children closed their eyes.
The sea kept churning.
L’appel du vide
Tell me how the dust motes that glitter in the light
want to gnaw on our bones. Tell me about how stars are just rips in the black skin of the sky, and most of them are already dead, anyway. Tell me how God lives in trees, and in books, and that He won’t be mad if we re-gift the raggedy sweaters He gives us,
that we’ll all live to see this town go up in flames. Tell me how a grave isn’t a hundred miles an hour into a brick wall, it’s more like the forests I’m always climbing through in my dreams,
and really, Death is the lover you’ve been waiting for all your Life.
Fear and Love in Three Movements
1
Once he sat and looked
from one face to the next, his eyes
like pieces of a broken plate.
“Good morning. Were
you looking for me?”
Once he sat and looked
from one face to the next, his eyes
like pieces of a broken plate.
“Good morning. Were
you looking for me?”
2
I heard him talking
over his shoulder, those eyes
hard and pale and reckless
quizzical and maybe contemptuous
even then. He turned,
looked at them again, not knowing
what to do exactly.
I heard him talking
over his shoulder, those eyes
hard and pale and reckless
quizzical and maybe contemptuous
even then. He turned,
looked at them again, not knowing
what to do exactly.
3
And it might have
been a good thing that they could not
watch him sleep.
And it might have
been a good thing that they could not
watch him sleep.
Ocean Eyes
It’s always raining
in your ocean eyes, and your face
takes on the weather.
in your ocean eyes, and your face
takes on the weather.
As the gray mist stirs and rocks collide,
some versions of us
breathe still, unsure breaths
some versions of us
breathe still, unsure breaths
under wintery skies.
I watch the waves crash
from iris to shore.
I watch the waves crash
from iris to shore.
Sunday, Thick Noon
Sunday, thick noon creeps
down the windowless hallway
like molasses, sugary sick
like a cough syrup punch
in the gut. Like nuclear waste
down the windowless hallway
like molasses, sugary sick
like a cough syrup punch
in the gut. Like nuclear waste
seeping under field-lounging
barn floorboards,
or whatever—yeah, yeah;
a teenager’s tongue clicks out
bubblegum splatter onto the sidewalk.
barn floorboards,
or whatever—yeah, yeah;
a teenager’s tongue clicks out
bubblegum splatter onto the sidewalk.
Sunday, quarter-til-three
your veins are lead, concrete, asphalt
blazing. People in other countries go home
or to the pub, their evening a shuffle
of goodhearted indeterminate noises,
stumbling towards
“half-past”, “half-till”; The hourglass
half full or empty. It depends
your veins are lead, concrete, asphalt
blazing. People in other countries go home
or to the pub, their evening a shuffle
of goodhearted indeterminate noises,
stumbling towards
“half-past”, “half-till”; The hourglass
half full or empty. It depends
on who you are, the color of the room,
what you take to drink. Most things
do, you know: wind and dance around
themselves and put themselves to bed
like dutiful children.
Whispers under floral-smelling sheets.
Lullaby stories and freshly shampooed
hair. Everything eating everything
in the end.
what you take to drink. Most things
do, you know: wind and dance around
themselves and put themselves to bed
like dutiful children.
Whispers under floral-smelling sheets.
Lullaby stories and freshly shampooed
hair. Everything eating everything
in the end.
Bionote
Erin Slaughter has a BA in Creative Writing from the University of North Texas. After a brief rendezvous with publishing in the Pacific Northwest, she is currently an MFA student at Western Kentucky University, and works as the graduate assistant for Steel Toe Books. She is the head editor of Lavender Bluegrass: LGBT Writers on the South , an anthology forthcoming from KY Story in 2016. Her fiction, poetry, and creative nonfiction has been published in The Harpoon Review , Drunk in a Midnight Choir , GRAVEL , and 101 Words , among others. She lives in Bowling Green, Kentucky with her two monochrome cats, Amelia and Cecil.
This is article about :5 Poems by Erin Slaughter
The article is of, 5 Poems by Erin Slaughter this time, we hope can give you more experience and more helpfull, don't forget to share.
What does peace mean to you?�create your own peace
book. The Peace Project came about through passionate
teachers and a principal, having kids take pictures according
to a theme and their version of how they see peace.
Love sms Friendship is not a game
Friendship is not a game to play, It is not a word to say, It doesn't start on March and ends on May, It is tomorrow, yesterday, today and everyday.
Love sms Moon said to me, if
Moon said to me, if ur friend is not messaging u why dont you leave ur friend.I looked at moon and said does ur sky ever leave u when u dont shine.
Love sms Age appears to be best
Age appears to be best in some things. Old wood best to burn. Old books best to read. Old rice best to eat and old friends best to keep
Love sms God picked up a flower
God picked up a flower and dipped it in a DEW, lovingly touched it which turned in to u, and the he gifted to me and said, THIS FRIEND IS 4U
You are readingf article 5 Poems by Erin Slaughter with link https://denenesommedanser.blogspot.com/2016/05/5-poems-by-erin-slaughter.html
Tag :
Love
0Love Quote for Article "5 Poems by Erin Slaughter"