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:iconseanna: More from seanna


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November 20, 2004
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You uproot the browning trees,
anger at the kidnapping of Persephone,
anger that everything grows.

Lightning flashing from your eyes
could be better used to raise Lazerus
or even a stitched together monster.
Better used to rake the dead into a pile
to jump into and feel the prickles of leaf wafers
crackling into your cranium.
Better to grab a handful of the intruding grass
and play God to the ants.

Run your pencil fingers
down the spine of a shady nymph,
who is losing her hair with every passing day
and wish she could spring to life
or uproot the dead.
She's wrinkled, sure,
and burned from the sun,
but she is smiling still
as you rip her arms off her body.

Remember the dust
from crushed leaves.
Invisible,
and inhaled by all.
Don't cry tears, cry kisses.
:iconvesiculae:
Vesiculae Featured By Owner Dec 20, 2004
You know? I've never actually read this.

And I think this could be one of your best.

<3
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:iconthere-is-no-spoon:
there-is-no-spoon Featured By Owner Nov 20, 2004   Writer
"She's wrinkled, sure,
and burned from the sun,
but she is smiling still
as you rip her arms off her body."

Wow. Amazing, your poems just draw the reader in, and the imagery is beautiful. This poem is a little bitter, but then again has an element of detachment, separarion.
You're quite talanted. I'm jealous.
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:iconseanna:
seanna Featured By Owner Nov 20, 2004  Hobbyist Writer
:P Thanks.
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