literature

not much, but it's home

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ithaswhatitisnt's avatar
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Literature Text

comforter for simple rural children,
jailer, slaughterer of dreams
delightful intoxicator of brittle bones
and a gem in the crown of our nation
colonial, thriving, humble
city of thriving remnants

they lute you are tranquil, luring artists from miles away for their muse to
    breathe again; i have pulsed through your history.
they weep to me about your winters, the slush erasing the verdigris landscape,
    and shamefully i agree.
and they tell me you are foul, reeking, and i believe this; the streets are
    littered with promiscuity and filth beneath my worn soul.

answer me this, naysayers: has ever there been a city so
    decrepit yet magnificently simple?
show me an imitation with such welcoming arms despite hardships
    and innumerable tragedies
this has been in my stash for a while.  i helped ave-dottore write a poem for school, and this was the result.  the goal of the assignment was to describe her hometown.  we live in a township, technically, but our mailing address is right next door, so we used that.  
© 2014 - 2024 ithaswhatitisnt
Comments3
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tmwillson3's avatar
Home means so many things to different people.  For me, it's definitely a bundle of contradictions, based on where I grew up and how I did with my family.  But, now having moved away, I can appreciate it much more.  I'm glad to just have a home to go back to, even if the winters are just like you describe so aptly.