|HAPPY EASTER 2013!|
Why I'll Never Teach AgainIt's because I've never seen povertyWhy I'll Never Teach Again by shairese9
so intimately, wrapped around chubby toddler
fingers like disparaging ribbons,
not even when I was standing in lines at churches for boxes
of soup and Oreos.
I washed away the dirt on her feet with
baby wipes, tickled her fat toes,
pulled on fresh socks. She had never worn a pair,
at least not since being an infant. She giggled
and covered her smile. Inwardly,
And I wept when a mother had to swallow her
shame and ask me for ten bucks to get her through the week. I cried because
such a good mama shouldn't have to break herself open
to live in this world.
And I cried as I tried to guess his shoe
size, standing in Wal-Mart. His toes were pushing out of holes,
blisters on his heels. He shrugged it off and told
me it didn't hurt.
At 23 my doctor is giving my looks about my blood
At 23 I've forgotten why I wanted to do this.
It's not about the money. It's about
the babies coming into my classroom that
I can't save.
|A lot of these favorites span across a great deal of styles. The one common thing? the effort, I love artists who give it their best.|
RivalryHello there sir! If I could just show you here,
a painting by none other than myself – glorious!
I have painted for many a rich man like yourself.
Take in my colours, the way the light soars on down
and perfectly lights my subjects face – superb!
I am a perfect candidate for your choosing right here!
Hello good sir, I am but mediocre in this craft
I have little knowledge of drawing the hills, however,
my skills in anatomy and hands are showing through.
Please pick my work, I only strive to improve.
What nonsense this boy speaks! His art is worth nothing.
Compare his forehead to mine, what do you see?
I have lines which show my effort and wisdom, him?
As blank as his mind - you need a real artist
who's art you can hang proudly and not be disgraced!
Look at the canvases alongside and see who is the best!
Excuse me sir, you're not being fair! For you were me once.
My spirit would be lifted, I assure you I am worth-
Come here my good sir, leave this fraud behind.
The So-Called Immortals, Ch. 1The sun rose, and Evelyn Vandergraff died. What a miserable place the desert was.
It was beautiful, of course—especially at dawn, when fire overtook the sky and threatened to turn the whole of the Earth to glass—but it was a grotesque sort of beauty that reminded Evelyn too much of herself. Especially at dawn, when the glass earth beneath her threatened to shatter and swallow her whole.
Nevertheless, the capacious solitude of the desert afforded Evelyn a rare opportunity—dare she say a luxury—and so she left the curtain of her litter open and watched the day begin. Minutes passed, then an hour, and Evelyn indulged herself an ugly smile as the sun baked her pale, frail skin.
A hot breeze blew, heavy with the too-familiar scents of life. The sensation at once snapped Evelyn out of her languor and drove every thought in her mind into a narrow, strangled point. Careful to cover her face with a curtain, she peeked her head out to see a small village approaching on th
|POETS AND WRITERS! IF YOU WANT A CRITIQUE THAT'LL BE SEEN BY MY WATCHERS JUST TAKE TIME TO INQUIRE VIA NOTE OR COMMENTING ON ONE OF MY DEVIATIONS! I'LL BE MORE THAN GLAD TO WRITE YOU ONE; TIME PERMITTING.|