It’s Time for More Rhymes
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Next prompt: Write about a time when you really understood the idea of consequences. Alternate: 48 hours. If you had 48 hours to do anything or go anywhere, what would you do? Or Bully. Write a letter to a bully. Due May 9.
This week, we publish writing in response to the prompt Rhymes.
I’m not a genius in everything I do.
I don’t stand out and I hate using hot glue.
I always hate getting up in the morning
and getting those three stupid teacher warnings.
I love taking hot showers and reading books.
I like my hair down and don’t care about looks.
When I try to read signs I always get lost
and I think the most beautiful thing is frost.
I’m simply very normal as you can see.
I get scared, bored, and happy when I am me.
When life gives you lemons, you make lemonade.
That’s my motto and I will never be swayed.
This poem is rather stupid don’t you think?
But it’s my life and it will pass with a blink.
The man was sitting in a little old cafe
He sipped on coffee and wine
Around him lay empty bottles of Chardonnay
And he spat his words when he asked me the time
His eyes had been dragged by many a loss
His lips cracked from the secrets he found
His stare cold, like a morning’s frost
His words ancient, like they’d been sitting around
Just waiting for me to hear them out
And it occurred to me I’d seen him before
Long ago without a doubt
But he was no stranger, of this, I was sure
I asked where he’d been when I was on my knees
The world was closing in and he was never there
His sad eyes replied that there are others he sees
And it’s not so simple as he doesn’t care
We parted politely and he turned at the door
He said, “I know that you’re hurting, I see”
And again he left me lying on the floor
For God had other places to be
Segregation was the base of the nation
when Abraham Lincoln gave the Emancipation Proclamation,
which was a speculation that he thought would save the nation.
This gave the South great consternation.
To the lives of the slaves this was a justification,
freedom was theirs with some reservations.
This was an exclamation for the northern nation.
The slaves joining their side was a great motivation.
Abraham Lincoln got his congratulations when the Civil War ended in jubilation!
Her hair like the sun was gold;
his eyes were green like the sea.
They were made from a mold.
She was what he wanted her to be.
She didn’t care
if the stars on his fingertips burned,
or if the place between his collar bone and shoulder
was a nest
with all the words she’d learned.
Her flannel shirt was tied
around her waist.
“I never lied.”
The simple beauty of a face.
The lines and angles
the rise and fall
that a body
Her head ached
her fingers scraped
inside her concavities for something to hold on to
because she knew she’d fall through.
We’re in love, she said.
For what is love
if not for passion, dread?
If not for heartache?
The color of his eyes didn’t fade
but she was different.
She didn’t glow in the same shade,
the orange that she used to be.
He tampered with fire
but didn’t get burned.
He made the flames go down