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One of the ancients,once said that poetry is "the mirror of the perfect soul." Instead of simply writing down travel notes or, not really thinking about the consequences, expressing your thoughts, memories or on paper, the poetic soul needs to seriously work hard to clothe the perfect content in an even more perfect poetic form.
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What is poetry?


Reading books RomanceThe unity of form and content is what distinguishes poetry from other areas of creativity. However, this is precisely what titanic work implies.
Not every citizen can become a poet. If almost every one of us, at different times, under the influence of certain reasons or trends, was engaged in writing his thoughts, then it is unlikely that the vast majority will be able to admit to themselves that they are a poet.
Genre of poetry touches such strings in the human soul, the existence of which a person either didn’t suspect, or lowered them to the very bottom, intending to give them delight.


There are poets whose work, without exaggeration, belongs to the treasures of human thought and rightly is a world heritage. In our electronic library you will find a wide variety of poetry.
Opening a new collection of poems, the reader thus discovers a new world, a new thought, a new form. Rereading the classics, a person receives a magnificent aesthetic pleasure, which doesn’t disappear with the slamming of the book, but accompanies him for a very long time like a Muse. And it isn’t at all necessary to be a poet in order for the Muse to visit you. It is enough to pick up a volume, inside of which is Poetry. Be with us on our website.

Read books online » Poetry » Caedis by Erin Baker (best classic books .TXT) 📖

Book online «Caedis by Erin Baker (best classic books .TXT) 📖». Author Erin Baker



The Storm

There’s a storm commin’.

I can feel it in my bones.

The sky is pitch black,

Lightning flashes from cloud to cloud.

Trees loose leaves to the wind.

I have a feelin’ somethin’ big is gonna happen,

I just don’t know what yet.

I’m safe in my house.

Animals outside run and hide,

Looking for shelter from what’s to come.

The pulsing beats from the music upstairs ring out,

Anticipating,

Waiting.

All is silent,

For a moment.

Sheets of rain assault the glass windows.

The storm is here.

Water

It comes in waves.

The sound of water crashing on rocks thunders around me.

Wind whips my hair into my face, my eyes, my mouth.

The sound of my screams are lost,

torn from my lips by the wind.

I take a step forward,

Only to be crushed by a wall of water.

Everything is still, quiet.

Then all is black.


Shatter

I am woken from a dream-less sleep.

My world is shaking, crumbling, falling a part around me.

I am calm.

I hear yells from the streets below.

Cries of panic echo off of the buildings.

There is chaos, fear, pandemonium.

I feel nothing.

Lying in wait,

Thinking nothing.

I hear a crack, a shower of bricks.

Nothing.

Blaze

I feel their eyes on my face,

I do not care.

The penetrating stares of the ones who wait.

Harsh light stings my eyes.

The foul smell of gasoline reeks in the air.

I take one last gulp.

The nicotine from the cigrett calms my nerves.

Closing my eyes, I drop the cigrett.

As it falls through my fingers, I exhale.

An explosion of heat throws me backwards,

Head connecting with concrete,

I hear screams.

It is too late for them.


Shots

I hear them,

The multiple sounds of guns firing.

Then there is yelling.

The wail of sirens fills the air.

Walking to the window, I watch the chaos below.

He is there, lying in the middle of the street.

A woman falls to her knees beside him.

She is sobbing, screaming.

He is there, lying in his blood.

The color, now drained from his face.

Paramedics come, trying to save a life that no longer exists.

I turn away from the window.

I go back to bed.

Wild

Brown is the color of the leaves in the fall.

The color of grass in the California heat.

The color of dirt.

I can feel it squishing through the gaps between my toes.

The smell of O-zone fills my nose,

The sounds of the wild consume my ears,

The sights of the wilderness envelop my vision.

I am free.


Happiness

Our goal in life.

To be happy, satisfied, content.

But do we ever achieve this?

That all depends on if you let yourself.

Darkness

I can hear it,

I can taste it,

I can feel it,

But I cannot see it.

As my head sinks below the surface,

All is cut off.

Seeing nothing,

Feeling nothing,

Tasting nothing,

Hearing nothing,

I let the darkness consume me.

Imprint

Publication Date: 06-08-2011

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