Subcategories from this category:

Poetry, Academic and Research

Sartre

A very long time ago, when I was a young boy, maybe around five or six years old, I had a rather unique experience—although I wasn’t able to appreciate it until much later.

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135 Hits

The woman who was alone

The woman lay alone upon the grass;

the autumnal sky so grey,

the leaves of countless shades,

the ripe yellow apples bursting with mellowness,

about to fall;

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155 Hits

I am dust

Essentially

I am dust

as are you-

So are the particles,

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  133 Hits
133 Hits

Chukor

He chuckled to the moonlit night

Barred, browned plump partidge;

He looked like a magistrate

who had taken a bribe, securely smug;

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  143 Hits
143 Hits

Fledgling wings in summer

There was the bird that flew because its wings were young,

For it knew it could fly, no matter if its young wings were untried-

Fledgling wings of violet-blue, deep, deep wings

that flew against the waves, flew against the sky

and knew there was nothing to it,

Nothing new, to that old sensation of flight when

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  344 Hits
344 Hits