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Literature Text
Ex threatens to jump off a public bridge?
Demolish the bridge.
Honest pretenses.
Little Bo Peep complains she lost her sheep again?
Call PETA.
Honest pretenses.
Man complains his back is cold as an Alaskan night?
Give him at hot frying pan.
Honest pretenses.
Supercilious friend complains she needs an ego boost?
Tell her she doesn't.
Honest pretenses.
Fledgling surgeon complains he's nervous for his first solo job?
Break his hands.
Honest pretenses.
Head chef complains he's out of sauce for his spaghetti?
Throw out the spaghetti.
Honest pretenses.
Demolish the bridge.
Honest pretenses.
Little Bo Peep complains she lost her sheep again?
Call PETA.
Honest pretenses.
Man complains his back is cold as an Alaskan night?
Give him at hot frying pan.
Honest pretenses.
Supercilious friend complains she needs an ego boost?
Tell her she doesn't.
Honest pretenses.
Fledgling surgeon complains he's nervous for his first solo job?
Break his hands.
Honest pretenses.
Head chef complains he's out of sauce for his spaghetti?
Throw out the spaghetti.
Honest pretenses.
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Literature
How To Understand Introverted People
It may seem at times I have
Little to offer when it comes
To the art of conversing,
Opting to remain in the shadows
Rather than to put myself
Directly in the centre like most.
Often any type of social situation
Is like a conflict zone in my eyes;
The amount of loud noises bubbling
From the throats of others, it's like
The consistent beat of a war drum.
As for any arguments, I feel as if
I'm caught in the firing line, the
Persistent sense of unease underling
The coat of my stomach triggers me
To turn tail and run for cover.
On the facade I'm a mere lone wolf,
Aloof, wanting nothing more than the
Entire room to lapse into silence.
I place no
Literature
an atheist's prayer
dear god,
i planted no tulips in autumn
and no tulips came in spring.
how silly of me, then
to mourn the empty garden,
to long for fields of amsterdam,
to kneel at night in cold dirt,
hands folded.
i’ve learned there is
a certain ache in lacking
a thing never had, that small itch
whose relief is two seasons past –
so god, if you can hear me,
know that i am homesick
for amsterdam,
whose name, like yours, i know
but whose flowers i cannot see.
Suggested Collections
Written for English class in my twelfth grade year.
Prompt: using any three poetic devices, compose a poem based on themes expressed in an essay from the 50 Essays A Portable Anthology (2nd ed.).
Essay chosen: Stephen L. Carter's The Insufficiency of Honesty.
Prompt: using any three poetic devices, compose a poem based on themes expressed in an essay from the 50 Essays A Portable Anthology (2nd ed.).
Essay chosen: Stephen L. Carter's The Insufficiency of Honesty.
Comments5
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Ha; love this!