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I found death waiting in the playground,
feet lingering on soft pavement,
reaper blade against the swing set.

She smiled at me with roses in her teeth
and cirrus clouds in her hair,
salt white skin dry and cracking.

By her fragile feet – torn newspaper ads,
a lost rag doll with empty eyes,
a single patent leather shoe.

There were shadow children by her side,
with blond and black curls, white and dark skin,
and they sang as they swung, softly.

In one hand she held
a broken heart, in the other
ancient dandelion stems.
©2009 ~VFireFalcon
:iconvfirefalcon:

Author's Comments

Just a quick poem that I ended up liking. I think the idea of death in an odd place was inspired by The Fray's "You Found Me," which had god on a streetcorner. Feel free to interpret this however you like - I have ideas about it, but I really have no idea how some things came to me, like the roses in her teeth. Oh, and I think it still belongs in Open, even though it has a haiku type thing at the end. If it doesn't, or there's a better category than General, let me know. Some of my poetic forms are so weird. I hope you like it!

Comments


love 0 0 joy 0 0 wow 0 0 mad 0 0 sad 2 2 fear 0 0 neutral 0 0
:iconvfirefalcon:
Thank you! :heart:

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If you expect the unexpected, and the unexpected becomes the expected, then you can no longer expect the unexpected because there is no more unexpected to expect, and then you are not expecting the unexpected, so the whole thing is pointless.
:iconwall-3:
i like it! :)

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i stare at my arms and see the scabs in lines like soldiers marching, fighting an impossible war. i will add more soldiers more lines tonight, ~ my angel, my hero, my sun by wall-3

proud member of =twilightersforever!!
go team cullen go!!!
:iconvfirefalcon:
Thank you! I don't know what it is about this piece, but it's getting a good response.

--
If you expect the unexpected, and the unexpected becomes the expected, then you can no longer expect the unexpected because there is no more unexpected to expect, and then you are not expecting the unexpected, so the whole thing is pointless.
:iconwall-3:
well its excellent thats prob y!? lopl :D

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i stare at my arms and see the scabs in lines like soldiers marching, fighting an impossible war. i will add more soldiers more lines tonight, ~ my angel, my hero, my sun by wall-3

proud member of =twilightersforever!!
go team cullen go!!!
:iconvfirefalcon:
It feels so weird to hear people say that. I think I just have low self confidence as a writer. Thanks for thinking it that good, though!

--
If you expect the unexpected, and the unexpected becomes the expected, then you can no longer expect the unexpected because there is no more unexpected to expect, and then you are not expecting the unexpected, so the whole thing is pointless.
:iconwall-3:
^^ no probs your an excellent writer

--
i stare at my arms and see the scabs in lines like soldiers marching, fighting an impossible war. i will add more soldiers more lines tonight, ~ my angel, my hero, my sun by wall-3

proud member of =twilightersforever!!
go team cullen go!!!
:iconpmaeck:
The last three lines, especially the last line, are so surprising that they seem utterly natural. The poem overall has a wonderful combined simplicity and alluring complexity - which is contradictory, and which spurs the best art.
:iconvfirefalcon:
Thank you very much for your comment and fave. I'm glad you like it. I'm also happy to hear you mention the combination of simplicity and complexity... it's something very difficult to capture. :heart:

--
If you expect the unexpected, and the unexpected becomes the expected, then you can no longer expect the unexpected because there is no more unexpected to expect, and then you are not expecting the unexpected, so the whole thing is pointless.

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April 6
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