In love with life and all of its foibles.
I’m so tired My word bank is running on fumes 18 more chapters Six assignments Two finals The countdown is on Cognitive psych unfolds the mind
By Aspen Marie 8 months ago in Poets
Douglas Adams declared 42 as the Meaning of Life Of what? Why a number? I think about it a lot And to me, it makes sense
What fickle creatures are we Such predictable mammals Led astray by emotion Bright smiles and colours Easily sway our cognition
First name Maries Matronymic bestowed with intention In holy reverence; a family tradition Valiantly named for French ideals
Why does sadness stick Like a pinecone In my throat The last ten minutes Of the Wild Robot Tears flow Down my cheeks
By Aspen Marie 9 months ago in Poets
Phanes pressed his thumb to my brow Bringing to life my universe This self-concept, roughly shaped through compression and expansion
Signs and symbols in daily use To navigate a life Well loved And moderately lived We heed stop signs With care and attention
The Looking Glass Self Is shaped by your reflection Handed back to you By the angling of the mirror Held by others A perspective to shape your identity
How could I have So deeply adored Such a flawed human Your actions; no compass To set my course by Many disreputable choices you made
Feelings are not facts A mantra worth repeating Heart will attempt to sell you All manner of wild tales To suit its deep desires
Argentine tango is a seductive tool Transfiguring desire into sequential steps Cuadrado pattern repeated Until performed without thought
A walking X-ray machine Certified PhD Confidently putting my finger On the fracture Clear as day Their posture, their words
