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Daily Deviation
Daily Deviation
June 13, 2013
mushroom cloud is an explosion of simple, powerful ideas by ~miserabel.
Featured by neurotype-on-discord
Literature Text
"an explosion", she said
I turned to ask her what she was talking about when I
caught sight of the tv screen, and for the tiniest of moments I caught
myself thinking that there's something beautiful about that much energy and
so much destruction; energy - would it wipe me off my feet? maybe melt the skin
right off of my bones? heat, death and poison, I don't believe there's much you or I
would be able to feel dying in those flames, and I should probably be ashamed that I
sitting comfortably in my living room
can
have
those
way
too
ca-
sual
thoughts;
but a lot of people die everyday
and to decide to cry for all of them would be
to give up breathing for yourself
I turned to ask her what she was talking about when I
caught sight of the tv screen, and for the tiniest of moments I caught
myself thinking that there's something beautiful about that much energy and
so much destruction; energy - would it wipe me off my feet? maybe melt the skin
right off of my bones? heat, death and poison, I don't believe there's much you or I
would be able to feel dying in those flames, and I should probably be ashamed that I
sitting comfortably in my living room
can
have
those
way
too
ca-
sual
thoughts;
but a lot of people die everyday
and to decide to cry for all of them would be
to give up breathing for yourself
Literature
Sorrowbird
I watched him flap helplessly between the teeth of a barbwire fence, screeching for help.
"Papa, look Papa! A boy!"
My papa stood dazed for a moment, dust billowing at his legs, his eyes teetering along the field. It wasn't until later that evening he told me he hadn't understood what I had seen. What he had seen.
With grass tickling the backsides of my legs, I bounded toward the boy, "What are you doing? Are you okay?"
As I approached him, I felt his skittish eyes rake across my every movement. With his ten-year-old arms slung inside the gaping maw of a fence and darkened feathers pasted along the creases of his face; he looked squarely
Literature
Twenty: I'm afraid I'm growing old
i.
Coupons and sales magazines
have become more than just junk mail
and the holes in my pants
seem more patchable
and I wonder just how much
my sparse jewelry would fetch
if I said I saw the face of Jesus
in the glimmer of my pearls.
ii.
I am beginning to miss the sea I grew up on
so much that I will read bad poetry
just for the mention of a salty ocean breeze.
I feel landlocked and sometimes I'm afraid
that I will never see the world
until I have retired from it.
iii.
Faith says her life is full of asking.
I wish mine were full of answers,
but I too have many questions
and only Time will answer them for me.
iv.
My mothe
Literature
Empyrean
Momma said to never marry an astronaut,
they will always prefer the twinkling starlight
to the light in your eyes.
They'll only end up in ships that float
aimlessly in zero gravity and you will not be there.
Momma said to never marry an astronaut.
You will stand firmly on the earth,
clutching the ground and knowing
they will always prefer the twinkling starlight.
Planets will fracture and stars will collapse
long before he recognizes he can travel
to the light in your eyes.
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Concrete poetry has been a mystery to me for a long time; today, I decided to give it another go.
Form inspired by this picture.
13/6: wow, a Daily Deviation!
Thanks for the feature, and for every fav and comment on this piece, I feel very flattered. 
Form inspired by this picture.
13/6: wow, a Daily Deviation!
Thanks for the feature, and for every fav and comment on this piece, I feel very flattered. © 2013 - 2024 miserabel
Comments72
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This is really good. Probably one of the best examples of concrete poetry I've ever read.