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Lucie Jul 2018
sometimes i wish
i could
dip my hand into ceramic

let the gloss crash
like a
tidal wave of utter cold

seeping into
my skin
but then i pause and realize

statues can't move
stopdoopy Jul 2018
(In a vacant church Little Girl and Big Man sit on a parish
a few feet apart, in between them lies a book titled"My Feelings".)

(The curtain opens. Little Girl sits staring at Big Man. Big Man gets up and goes to the statue of himself in front of them for a closer look.)

Big Man: Will talking in person really make a difference?

Little Girl: I like to think it does.

Big Man:  (turns to look at her incredulously.) What wishful thinking, you're so naïve.

(Little Girl opens her book and starts to read aloud.)

(Big Man cuts her off with a noise every time she starts to say something until she falls silent.)

Big Man: Just as I thought, it doesn't change anything.

Little Girl: But you don't-

Big Man: (cuts her off again.) You just can't let things go, that's your problem. I told you I didn't want to do this, yet you dragged me out here. It didn't accomplish anything!

Little Girl: That's because you don't even want to listen or try to talk, you just want to yell and blame me!

Big Man: That's enough, this conversation is over. (Walks off stage right.)

(Little Girl screams in anger and throws "My Feelings" at the Big Man Statue.)

(The Curtain closes.)
I wanted to try something a little different! I've never written stage directions or a play before but I thought this would be a nice change. I didn't really convey the raw anger or passion, nor was it the scene what I originally wanted but maybe it's a step in the right direction. Trying out different styles is neat. Not happy with this piece though but... oh well.
Lydia Hirsch Jun 2018
Wooden woman waiting outside of a grocery store
in North Berkeley

Made tired by time,
chips of wood had fallen in masses from her body,
entire aspects of her anatomy had eroded away--
most of her nose, her left ear,
her right cheek, her *******, half her stomach

She had been a tree,
torn apart, reassembled
in the form of a female human being,
no sign of life in her sightless gaze

I guess she’s gone now,
after all those years

I went to look for her
and found only an antique shop
with a peculiar name
at the address where she should have been

I would have liked to have seen her
one last time, this statue
that fascinated and frightened me as a child

I’m glad she’s gone, though--
She resemble less and less a woman,
was becoming clearly merely wood
cut into tiny pieces and glued together

She resembled less and less a woman,
and I’m glad she was killed
before she ceased to be art
K Balachandran May 2018
I hurriedly pass
the great one’s statue, it smiles;
can’t recollect who!
rmh May 2018
kissing the cold lips of a marble statue
didn't feel too good until i remembered that
yours were always cold from the rain
Fox Rivers Mar 2018
Tears leak from the statue
of an angel in the garden.
They weep for the innocence lost,
for the words cried out at night -
Forgive me father, for I have sinned!
They weep for the thoughts
ravaging a broken mind -
Tear me apart,
Crush my bones,
Break my heart,
Destroy my soul!
They weep for the darkness
that circles the home,
and seeps into the roots of the flowers.
Sinner, sinner,
goes the chant.
They weep for the church bells
that ring out each morning,
for the people who go there,
for the one who cries out -
How can you believe?
They weep as they are carried;
from the garden and into the street,
flung through the air
and smashed.
I'd rather there be nothing than for a sinner like me to burn alone.
Tears stream down his face,
and he mourns something that never was.
Sinner, sinner.
Soltairia Jan 2018
On some autumn's eve
my curiosity led me to you.
A statue hidden among the sanded shore,
unbeknownst to only me.
Yet, when I finally found your marble arms,
your existence plagued every waking thought.
The sea from which we were all born
held you in its handless grips.
The tide turning you within every hour,
taking your very sediment into its unknown.
Your form is but a hallow shell
of the majesty I had thought I discovered.
Alas, this realization came too late
and I became trapped in the current.
For all go from which they came.
sarah Feb 2018
a masterpiece,
you were,
perfect in every way,
painstakingly chiseled
from stone,
every curve
made with detail
and precision.
SBR9000 Dec 2017
The lady stands tall.
Perched high above the city.
Watching the days pass.
© 12.08.2017 SBR9000
b Nov 2017
A dictionary in a bag of bricks.
I watch it sink down the swamp.
Words only mean what we do with them after,
So I never feast until I know there's dessert coming.

I am the stone before the statue.
A block of possibility.
Waiting for guidance like a wiseman,
From anyone that can convince me we're not all mad for trying.

I am the stone before the statue.
Waiting to be carved.
Waiting to be told who I am.
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