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Literature Text
A grey, dreary sky stretches overhead.
An omen of the desolation that will persist.
Icy cold encloses.
The unforgiving mist encroaches.
upon all.
Irreparably
Meaningless
Worthless.
A small song
Seems to perch within the depths of my soul.
Hope.
It warms my heart.
Slowly, the depression begins to melt.
Quickly, I realize.
I shoo it away.
It has no place here.
The thing with feathers
will become broken
and despondent
In the depths
of my soul.
An omen of the desolation that will persist.
Icy cold encloses.
The unforgiving mist encroaches.
upon all.
Irreparably
Meaningless
Worthless.
A small song
Seems to perch within the depths of my soul.
Hope.
It warms my heart.
Slowly, the depression begins to melt.
Quickly, I realize.
I shoo it away.
It has no place here.
The thing with feathers
will become broken
and despondent
In the depths
of my soul.
This was an exercise we did in American Literature. We picked a poem that wasn't modern at all (I did "Hope Is the Thing With Feathers" by Emily Dickinson) and modernize it. In my case, I just used the idea of "the thing with feathers" and constructed a "modern" poem. Tis depressing. No?
Comments7
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Why the italics?
Because I read that as normal voice normal voice normal voice (deep dramatic voice)OF MY SOUL.(/dramatic voice)
Because I read that as normal voice normal voice normal voice (deep dramatic voice)OF MY SOUL.(/dramatic voice)