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Literature Text
My father told me something that will forever stay with me,
He told me about the stars.
Each time he told me about the stars,
The story would be different.
One time,
The stars would be gigantic flashlights,
Somewhere far away,
Giving light to the people who are lost.
Another time,
The stars would be angels.
There to protect and guard,
Their loved ones.
The next time,
The stars would be balls of gas,
Burning thousands of light years away.
I laughed at this one.
The last time,
My father told me,
"The stars are me,
So I can watch over you no matter where you go,
Where I am.
Remember, I love you."
That was the last story I got of the stars.
My father died on his death bed,
And every night I look up,
And with a smile say,
"Hey, Dad.
How's it like up there?
Hanging with the stars?"
He told me about the stars.
Each time he told me about the stars,
The story would be different.
One time,
The stars would be gigantic flashlights,
Somewhere far away,
Giving light to the people who are lost.
Another time,
The stars would be angels.
There to protect and guard,
Their loved ones.
The next time,
The stars would be balls of gas,
Burning thousands of light years away.
I laughed at this one.
The last time,
My father told me,
"The stars are me,
So I can watch over you no matter where you go,
Where I am.
Remember, I love you."
That was the last story I got of the stars.
My father died on his death bed,
And every night I look up,
And with a smile say,
"Hey, Dad.
How's it like up there?
Hanging with the stars?"
Literature
The Library and the Stars
It was the oldest building in town. The amount of people usually would contradict the lack of noise. It was silent as a mausoleum, yet not as morbid. There were novels, comics and dictionaries filling rows of elderly wooden shelves. Today seemed to be especially marked by a dreaded presence, however. The townspeople would rarely leave their homes. Not because of the uncommon rain of summer on that day. But because there had always been a feeling of unmoved tension that lurked in the North.
The boy was able to calm down by running through the collected pools of water residing in the dirt. He was running away. Going towards nowhere. He had ent
Literature
DARKEST STAR
She exists in an inevitable vacancy, a Dark Star
shining beneath my skin, frayed by these undone
laces of Pain where only emotion-broken and liberating
-climax my secret heartache with the tears of a
lifetime and circumstances that still leave their
shadows inside me, stalking my Dark Star where
she writes...but her last rhythmic blow of light
guides me outward to align my vulnerability with
the blood-ink of the Universe, and there my soul
sips the starry spill of the Milky Way as I stretch
myself from Star to Star, searching to pluck out
the words where they imbed themselves in me, deep-
seated nettle and lyrics of white, I can f
Literature
On Stars
I was once told not to reach for the stars because I would get burned.
The sun is a star, my Father reminded me, his hair white dwarfs atop his head, fizzling out towards the front to show his age. Stars are balls of gas that'll burn your pretty litl' frame to a crisp; don't get hurt, aim for something concrete, solid.
I was thirteen. I had told him how I wanted to be a writer. He called me a dreamer, caught up in the Milkyway.
But Dad, I pleaded, and I could feel lunar quakes wrack me from my core. I love it. I love the feel of a pen in my hand, the crinkle of paper under my palms, the ink blotches on my fingers. I love all of it. It make
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This completes the theme 'Stars'.
Obviously my father is still alive. I just picked him because he is so much more closer to me then my mom. Plus, this has a great impact on me. did you know I thought of this within at least 20 mins? By far the greatest poem I have written. At least that's what I think.
Obviously my father is still alive. I just picked him because he is so much more closer to me then my mom. Plus, this has a great impact on me. did you know I thought of this within at least 20 mins? By far the greatest poem I have written. At least that's what I think.
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Comments18
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This is a wonderful piece! It's just got a sort of delightful fragility to it.
The speaker's voice is so youthful that I can almost hear a little kid's voice, y'know?
I think perhaps my favorite part is where the speaker finds the "stars are balls of burning gas" amusing. It's sort of fascinating, to see this simple perspective accept the scientific answer with a laugh along with the others. I love it.
The speaker's voice is so youthful that I can almost hear a little kid's voice, y'know?
I think perhaps my favorite part is where the speaker finds the "stars are balls of burning gas" amusing. It's sort of fascinating, to see this simple perspective accept the scientific answer with a laugh along with the others. I love it.