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Literature Text
Titles don’t belong in the first line,
teacher says,
and poetry is not made of end rhymes.
The ventilated fluorescence and I
flicker at the incongruence
and I want to tell her
sometimes east is left
on the map
if you hold it right.
teacher says,
and poetry is not made of end rhymes.
The ventilated fluorescence and I
flicker at the incongruence
and I want to tell her
sometimes east is left
on the map
if you hold it right.
Literature
Obsessive Compulsive Disorder
When I was little, it use to amaze me how colors were made. In art class I would sit and mix paint because blue and red didn't stay the same when they fell in love. Every single color found its match and danced beautifully as I swirled them together. Black and white were my favorites. I'd pour the creamy paint into a bowl and watch as black and white swirls, turned into grey swirls and owned the container holding it captive. Grey was amazing to me. Because black and white are nothing alike, and grey is in the middle. Black is dark and scary and demanding. And white is graceful, and trusting, and clean. Grey is nothing. Grey is bland. And safe
Literature
Divorce
Before that day,
Sunday mornings had never occurred to me.
I must have slept through their every summons:
I never knew the time sensitive ritual of finding matching socks,
forcing “nice” shoes over misshapen toes,
the silent pact we would share with the warm cushions of the divan
waiting for Mother to ready us, memories that settle in the guts
like a madstone, which I could then pull out of my old cadaver
to save myself in the next life.
There were a few moments. Like that time, in the garage,
basking in Father’s sunrise sorcery as he fired his magic timing light
into the fluttering lungs of an engine, or when he let
Literature
for all intensive purposes
i am accused of being
a category five--
but i will not excuse the way my skin aches.
i want storms.
i remember the way Katrina screamed &
if you press your ear to my chest you will hear the same.
the moan turning into a pitch, the pitch
screaming until the throat is too raw to be
more than a whimper.
the way it stops
and pauses,
silently racked until it bursts forth once more.
i will not apologize for being demolition.
scars exist on every woman
too powerful to contain herself.
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Comments67
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Overall
Vision
Originality
Technique
Impact
For vision I gave you 5 stars because of the imagery used to illustrate your point. You had a magnificent analogy, as well as a clearly defined point.
I scored you 5 stars in originality because of the defiance taken against the standards. Writing something encouraging the breaking of rules for the sake of originality must be considered original, especially when the rules are broken to do so.
Impact also scored five stars because the powerful conclusion. It was like getting hit by a bus full of kids fresh from a tour of Willy Wonka's chocolate factory. Excellent work. Also, ouch.
However, I found your technique lacking; you broke quite a few rules writing this, which by industry standards earns a frowny-face sticker. With awkward punctuation, omitting quotations, and putting your title in the first line, your technique was definitely lacking.
Overall, I'd have to score this work 4.5 meatball subs, because f*** the scoring system. this is some good sh** right here.