A Guide to Undressing Your Monsters
I bury the carved wooden box like ashes. I planted a flower in an open field not far from my own grave, haunted, except instead of a flower, it was a tree. And instead of an open field, it was the rooftop of our building. And instead of my grave, it was yours. When first you could not give me yours, mine did not break because I thought you were a blessing, blessings being sacred things over which one does not cry.
I tried to hide what still I carried for you. Which is to say, you know where I have been, every who my heart has loved and lost, everything I have given up in the name of going on. All of what is left of me is yours.
- DAMIAN SMYTH Writing Things.
- Alison Granucci -- Lectures Readings Illuminations.
- March 12222.
- Skin and Bones;
- The Lady Bug That Knew;
- Write That Essay High School Edition;
Like snow. So on the edge of losing everything. Next mission runs August , To sign up, click here :. You can listen to it here :. This sonnet, published in Gratefulness.
- POEMS | damiansmyth.
- Her Boyfriends Boyfriend.
- The Walt Whitman Archive;
- Blues Story?
- How to Organize Your Life (Every Day).
- Absence, Luminescent?
Once Upon a Time? I am so excited to be performing at the National Storytelling Festival in Jonesborough, TN on the stage for tellers new to the festival.
Metaphor | Power Poetry
I hope you can join me there in October! Made me cry. Wind from the distance brought the gurgling sound of water. I realized that it was the call of the river. Flames of War and Love Poems It is also customizable. I realized that it was the call of the Varan River.
Miracles, Love and a Bouquet of Poems
Pretending that he was by my side, I walked alone until daybreak. The harmonica sound saved Varan River. Its sound waked the birch forest from its dream.
I fell to my knees on the bank of Varan River with tears in my eyes. By the river is a small boat heading to my hometown. I looked across the river, where was my long lost homeland. That was where I made my vow and where my soul rested. Hearing harmonica sound, I turned around and saw him for the first time.
Laughter echoing in the country
Waving at me, he fell down in the snow. Seriously wounded, blood stained his emblem. It was the enemy's falcon.
I wrapped his wounds for him without saying a word. In the church hospital, the girl waited in front of the window every early morning. The war ceased on Christmas Eve.