Tell Me About Despair, Yours, And I Will Tell You Mine.

Birth

I have my mother's rage.

The quiet rage, the unassuming one,

the rage which grips onto every molecule of your body,

until it claws and licks at your whitened bones.

The rage which sinks its sharp canines in you

which savours the taste of blood,

it craves it.

It lures your loved ones in carefully, it invites them into its stenching residence.

Sets out a nice cup of tea, or perhaps, the good tablecloth.

And when they think it's gone, the rage twists their necks,

and laps up the blood with its serpent tongue.

I have my father's indifference.

I sit and watch as it happens, smiling, as I watch and watch my house burn.

- e.u.

Vincent Van Gogh

Charles Bukowski, "young men," from What Matters Most is How Well You Walk through the Fire

“One day she remembered that it wasn’t her job to make everyone happy.”

— Robin Lee

"A last request—grant it, please.

Never bury my bones apart from yours, Achilles,

Let them lie together . . .

Just as we grew up together in your house"

Patroclus to Achilles

The Iliad - Homer

“Real tears are not those that fall from the eyes and cover the face, but those that fall from the heart and cover the soul.”

— Unknown

Thoughts run around in your head

Like trying to win a marathon

You want to listen to what is said

Try to pause and halt for some

But you’re distracted

And then they’re gone

— I Guess the Old You is a Ghost (#589: June 25, 2014)

my favorite lines from this article about poetry from students grades 3-6