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sometimes I hear the bell ringing



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Tue Mar 26, 2019 10:49 pm
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TheSilverFox says...



2018 - the man beneath the lamppost

2017 - How to Deal with the Buzzards Poking at Your Eyes

2016 - these are the word that are an offense to sanity
S'io credesse che mia risposta fosse
a persona che mai tornasse al mondo,
questa fiamma staria senza piu scosse.
Ma per ciò che giammai di questo fondo
non tornò vivo alcun, s'i' odo il vero,
senza tema d'infamia ti rispondo.

Inferno, Canto 27, l 61-66.
  





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Tue Apr 02, 2019 2:36 am
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TheSilverFox says...



I. Ford Building


I am a scared creature.
So, when the professor looks over his computer,
bores his eyes into mine, and tells me
that I can't visit and play the pianos
until I take one of the music classes,
I can hear a door in my head slam shut.

And I can't open it -
not because it's locked,
but because my arms can't reach the knob,
my legs won't carry me into the building,
and my heart is afraid of what I will find
waiting for me.
S'io credesse che mia risposta fosse
a persona che mai tornasse al mondo,
questa fiamma staria senza piu scosse.
Ma per ciò che giammai di questo fondo
non tornò vivo alcun, s'i' odo il vero,
senza tema d'infamia ti rispondo.

Inferno, Canto 27, l 61-66.
  





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Wed Apr 03, 2019 1:32 am
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TheSilverFox says...



II. Design Lab

Take me by the hand and pull me into the room
where the saws roar their way through my ears,
dust sneaking its way into my eyes as you tell me
that I need to nail these planks together, polish the edges,
glue on the panels and the circuitry and the hopes
of five people coming together and trying desperately to get an A
(and maybe, if we're really good, change the world,
but we're all too tired and busy and scared to believe that).

And when I stand there, when I lean in close and ask what you meant,
when I step aside to let you put it together, drop it, pick up the pieces,
please forgive me - my rattled mind's already wandered away,
heading up and down the stairs to the store in town
where I bought little pieces of history
(all stuffed in my safe and forgotten,
because I'm good at repeating my mistakes)
before I came here.
S'io credesse che mia risposta fosse
a persona che mai tornasse al mondo,
questa fiamma staria senza piu scosse.
Ma per ciò che giammai di questo fondo
non tornò vivo alcun, s'i' odo il vero,
senza tema d'infamia ti rispondo.

Inferno, Canto 27, l 61-66.
  





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Thu Apr 04, 2019 3:22 am
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TheSilverFox says...



III. Volk Gymnasium

Sometimes I swear I can remember
hearing the noise my ankle made as the muscles and tendons twisted,
pulling me down onto the track floor.

I don't know if I imagined it or not -
I remember the man who'd kicked the soccer ball to me running over,
and I remember telling the coach that it was okay, that I'd just walk it off,
and I remember walking around the gym, grabbing my things,
hobbling across the street, and talking to the professor
who would drive me to the health center
when I told him I couldn't walk there.

And I remember the panic
that shoved its way into my chest and forced the air out of my lungs
the instant that I realized I had fallen down,
and that something in my body had finally given out
(and I was afraid the rest of it would too).

And I remember the panic
that shoved its way into my chest as I messaged my professors
and told them that I wouldn't be showing up to class that day,
and that I might miss the lectures that held up my grades and held up my scholarships
and let me stay in this university at all.

I don't remember the moment I fell,
but I'm not sure it was as important
as the aftermath.
S'io credesse che mia risposta fosse
a persona che mai tornasse al mondo,
questa fiamma staria senza piu scosse.
Ma per ciò che giammai di questo fondo
non tornò vivo alcun, s'i' odo il vero,
senza tema d'infamia ti rispondo.

Inferno, Canto 27, l 61-66.
  





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Thu Apr 04, 2019 5:31 am
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Ventomology says...



Oooh these are kinda different from older poems of yours that I've read. It's a fun experiment though!

btw, is your ankle okay?
"I've got dreams like you--no really!--just much less, touchy-feeley.
They mainly happen somewhere warm and sunny
on an island that I own, tanned and rested and alone
surrounded by enormous piles of money." -Flynn Rider, Tangled
  





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Thu Apr 04, 2019 7:04 pm
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TheSilverFox says...



@Ventomology: Yeah it's still a little sore and swollen, but it's right about as good as it was a few weeks ago.

And thanks! I dunno if this is really experimental; I'm just expanding on my style from last year and moving to more autobiographical stuff. Still, it's been fun to write!
S'io credesse che mia risposta fosse
a persona che mai tornasse al mondo,
questa fiamma staria senza piu scosse.
Ma per ciò che giammai di questo fondo
non tornò vivo alcun, s'i' odo il vero,
senza tema d'infamia ti rispondo.

Inferno, Canto 27, l 61-66.
  





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Points: 24185
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Fri Apr 05, 2019 4:28 am
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TheSilverFox says...



IV. Student Rec Center

You saw me sitting in front of the door,
knees pressed against my chest, crying into my hands,
and you, out of all the people who walked by and did nothing
(and they had reason not to, because how does anyone respond
to seeing an almost-grown man crying?), sat down beside me.

And you listened to me when I told you that I was tired,
I was scared, it had been a rough day.
And you told me that it was fine, that I was going to be okay,
that you could stay as long as you needed me to.

I don't remember your face and I don't remember your name
and I barely remember what you even told me -
maybe I'm making some of it up, but, for once,
I could read the gestures that I didn't even see,
and I could hear the kindness in the words that I almost didn't hear,

and I knew I had found a friend
in the moment in time
that we were together.
Last edited by TheSilverFox on Mon Apr 08, 2019 2:24 am, edited 1 time in total.
S'io credesse che mia risposta fosse
a persona che mai tornasse al mondo,
questa fiamma staria senza piu scosse.
Ma per ciò che giammai di questo fondo
non tornò vivo alcun, s'i' odo il vero,
senza tema d'infamia ti rispondo.

Inferno, Canto 27, l 61-66.
  





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Points: 24185
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Fri Apr 05, 2019 4:29 pm
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TheSilverFox says...



V. Marquez Hall (the bomb and I)

CW: talking about death and stuff

Spoiler! :
I envy you
(maybe that's not right to say
but nothing about this is right);
I've never seen someone walk into their grave
with so big of a smile on their face.
You could see the light at the end of the tunnel;
you saw it shrink from a lighthouse to a pinprick;
you decided to stop waiting and wheel yourself
to the finish line.

I am a scared creature;
I don't know how you decided to stop the pain,
what inside you inspired you to spend those last few weeks alive and happy
(and sad and angry and scared because you are only human but that never stopped you
from cracking jokes and propping your heart on your shoulder
and speeding your wheelchair up and down the neighborhood streets),
what let you choose your death and surround yourself with loved ones
even as those weeks melted away and faded into that quiet emptiness
that you joined.

I hope that, somewhere in that crowd of voices,
you heard me say goodbye, and that you didn't hear my brain
whir and fizz and pop as it tried to realize
that you wouldn't be around in the morning.

Because death is a stranger, one that my mind tries to answer
by reciting equations as I walk by these windows,
watch the cars drive by on the streets below,
and look up at the tip of Castle Rock
to see if anyone is standing on it -
x(t) = x_0 + v_x0(t) + v_x(t)
y(t) = y_0 + v_y0(t) + 1/2gt^2
(I was never very good at coping).

And yet, you've had your time (or maybe you didn't,
but you weren't the kind of person to let that stop you);
I don't know if I've had my time yet
(and I'm going to make sure that doesn't stop me).
S'io credesse che mia risposta fosse
a persona che mai tornasse al mondo,
questa fiamma staria senza piu scosse.
Ma per ciò che giammai di questo fondo
non tornò vivo alcun, s'i' odo il vero,
senza tema d'infamia ti rispondo.

Inferno, Canto 27, l 61-66.
  





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Sun Apr 07, 2019 5:02 am
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TheSilverFox says...



VI. The M Hill

We woke up early in the morning and braved water and paint
(or, you did - I hid behind you,
if only because you were more comfortable getting soaked
than I was).

We made our way up and down the hill
(and I set two stones up there,
both because two smaller stones were easier to carry
than one large one, and I wanted to be different).

And we sat by the road waiting for the buses to come,
talking about whether we'd make it through college
(in between jokes and watching the coming storm
and looking out over the roads cutting across the plains,
twisting around the mountains, and running through our hearts
with all the vagueness and mystery and fear that is life).
S'io credesse che mia risposta fosse
a persona che mai tornasse al mondo,
questa fiamma staria senza piu scosse.
Ma per ciò che giammai di questo fondo
non tornò vivo alcun, s'i' odo il vero,
senza tema d'infamia ti rispondo.

Inferno, Canto 27, l 61-66.
  





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Sun Apr 07, 2019 7:02 pm
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TheSilverFox says...



VII. The Weaver Towers West Laundry Room

I drag the basket up and down the elevator
(and sometimes I'm afraid the elevator will finally fail
and trap me inside, because it's old and battered
and sometimes the door doesn't want to open),
haul my clothes into the washer and dryer,
pull my textbooks out of my backpack,
and bury myself in cell structure
or how DNA splits apart
or how to fling bricks
so they break windows.

The words and the ink and the paper mold together,
pulling in my eyes and yanking on my ears
and hiding the steady stream of people flowing around me
as they find better ways to spend a Sunday morning
(but I can't hear them over my headphones,
and maybe that's for the best,
because I have work to do).
S'io credesse che mia risposta fosse
a persona che mai tornasse al mondo,
questa fiamma staria senza piu scosse.
Ma per ciò che giammai di questo fondo
non tornò vivo alcun, s'i' odo il vero,
senza tema d'infamia ti rispondo.

Inferno, Canto 27, l 61-66.
  





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Mon Apr 08, 2019 4:51 am
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Ventomology says...



LAUNDRY POEMS FOR THE WIN.

It's super cute. I feel like you could do more format-wise to set apart the pieces in parentheses? But like, up to you bro.
"I've got dreams like you--no really!--just much less, touchy-feeley.
They mainly happen somewhere warm and sunny
on an island that I own, tanned and rested and alone
surrounded by enormous piles of money." -Flynn Rider, Tangled
  





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Mon Apr 08, 2019 4:59 am
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TheSilverFox says...



@Ventomology, thanks! And yeah, that's very fair, I'm hella inconsistent about how I arrange the parts in parentheses. Poem six has neatly arranged parentheses to end each stanza, but otherwise I end up being like "ehhh I'll just throw them in wherever." And hey, it adds a sense of a train of thought, which isn't that far from what I'm aiming for.
S'io credesse che mia risposta fosse
a persona che mai tornasse al mondo,
questa fiamma staria senza piu scosse.
Ma per ciò che giammai di questo fondo
non tornò vivo alcun, s'i' odo il vero,
senza tema d'infamia ti rispondo.

Inferno, Canto 27, l 61-66.
  





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444 Reviews



Gender: Female
Points: 14954
Reviews: 444
Mon Apr 08, 2019 5:00 am
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Ventomology says...



Guess who definitely 100% used her laundry poem for April Madness.
"I've got dreams like you--no really!--just much less, touchy-feeley.
They mainly happen somewhere warm and sunny
on an island that I own, tanned and rested and alone
surrounded by enormous piles of money." -Flynn Rider, Tangled
  





User avatar
299 Reviews



Gender: None specified
Points: 24185
Reviews: 299
Mon Apr 08, 2019 5:42 am
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TheSilverFox says...



YESSSSSSSS

if I can't write a better poem tomorrow I'll probably join you lol
S'io credesse che mia risposta fosse
a persona che mai tornasse al mondo,
questa fiamma staria senza piu scosse.
Ma per ciò che giammai di questo fondo
non tornò vivo alcun, s'i' odo il vero,
senza tema d'infamia ti rispondo.

Inferno, Canto 27, l 61-66.
  





User avatar
299 Reviews



Gender: None specified
Points: 24185
Reviews: 299
Tue Apr 09, 2019 3:56 am
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TheSilverFox says...



VIII. Ida B. Green Hall

One of the days, I hope to push open your doors
and sleep on your couches until security walks by
and kicks me out.

All I've known of you are the tarps draped over your windows,
the ventilation shafts poking out of your glass,
the boards and the yellow tape and the scaffolding
and the asbestos that they've had to suck out of you
year after year after year.

One of the days, I hope I can stop calling you asbestos building,
and add you to the rooms and hallways and staircases
where I live out my weird little life.
S'io credesse che mia risposta fosse
a persona che mai tornasse al mondo,
questa fiamma staria senza piu scosse.
Ma per ciò che giammai di questo fondo
non tornò vivo alcun, s'i' odo il vero,
senza tema d'infamia ti rispondo.

Inferno, Canto 27, l 61-66.
  








The inner machinations of my mind are an enigma.
— Patrick Star