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Literature Text
The only light in the house
Is the one in my room.
It seems I’m the only one
Who worries about myself.
It seems I’m the only one
Who can’t sleep
For fear of never waking up.
But as the tears are falling
On my limp, resigned hands,
Something in my heart stirs
As I become aware of
And listen to
The rain outside.
I remember how they’ve said,
How they’ve testified,
Of the rain’s power
To make the flowers grow.
I think of how scared I’ve been,
Sitting alone inside,
Having forgotten the feeling
Of being wet to the bone,
Of opening my mouth
And drinking the drops
That came pouring down—
Those simple joys
I’d always loved
And taken for granted
As a small child.
And I listen to the tapping,
The constant, gentle tapping,
Of the rain on my window.
Constant
Gentle
Tapping
Against a window
Only I can open.
One foot out of bed
And I’m trembling.
Two feet out of bed
And I’m dizzy.
But I rise....
Slowly move myself across the carpet....
Like having to teach myself
To talk again....
And with my tears—
My own rain—
Rising and then descending
From my heart
To stream down my cheeks
And plunge to the floor,
I stare into the night
And watch the drops fall.
One hand on the latch
And I breathe.
Two hands on the latch
And I close my eyes.
But only for a moment....
Wordlessly open one door....
And then the other.
And here it comes....
The wind rushes in,
Blows the curtains behind me,
Making me feel as though
I can fly upon its rivers,
Drawing my face
To bravely turn upward....
And the rain falls,
It falls upon me.
It tastes so sweet,
So wonderfully sweet,
And I am drenched.
Right through to the soul.
I am engulfed
In the rain.
At last,
Now I remember,
And now I know
Better than ever before
What I remembered
And knew
As a small child.
Only these words
Fill my mind
In the most tender tone
I’d ever felt....
“It’s about time you asked.
Yes, of course, my child....
I love you....
I love you
So much.
Yes, of course, my child....
You are special,
So special.
Please come to me now....
And ache no more.”
Is the one in my room.
It seems I’m the only one
Who worries about myself.
It seems I’m the only one
Who can’t sleep
For fear of never waking up.
But as the tears are falling
On my limp, resigned hands,
Something in my heart stirs
As I become aware of
And listen to
The rain outside.
I remember how they’ve said,
How they’ve testified,
Of the rain’s power
To make the flowers grow.
I think of how scared I’ve been,
Sitting alone inside,
Having forgotten the feeling
Of being wet to the bone,
Of opening my mouth
And drinking the drops
That came pouring down—
Those simple joys
I’d always loved
And taken for granted
As a small child.
And I listen to the tapping,
The constant, gentle tapping,
Of the rain on my window.
Constant
Gentle
Tapping
Against a window
Only I can open.
One foot out of bed
And I’m trembling.
Two feet out of bed
And I’m dizzy.
But I rise....
Slowly move myself across the carpet....
Like having to teach myself
To talk again....
And with my tears—
My own rain—
Rising and then descending
From my heart
To stream down my cheeks
And plunge to the floor,
I stare into the night
And watch the drops fall.
One hand on the latch
And I breathe.
Two hands on the latch
And I close my eyes.
But only for a moment....
Wordlessly open one door....
And then the other.
And here it comes....
The wind rushes in,
Blows the curtains behind me,
Making me feel as though
I can fly upon its rivers,
Drawing my face
To bravely turn upward....
And the rain falls,
It falls upon me.
It tastes so sweet,
So wonderfully sweet,
And I am drenched.
Right through to the soul.
I am engulfed
In the rain.
At last,
Now I remember,
And now I know
Better than ever before
What I remembered
And knew
As a small child.
Only these words
Fill my mind
In the most tender tone
I’d ever felt....
“It’s about time you asked.
Yes, of course, my child....
I love you....
I love you
So much.
Yes, of course, my child....
You are special,
So special.
Please come to me now....
And ache no more.”
Literature
Words To Avoid
"Words To Avoid In Creative Writing"
We've all heard there are some no-no words in creative writing - these are words that you want to avoid "at all costs" some people say, but do you know which they are, and why you should avoid them? Well, I didn't the first time I saw a list of "words to avoid", and not surprisingly, a lot of people who write these lists don't know why either. (I know, SHOCK! GASP! just because someone wrote a guide doesn't mean they know what they're talking about.)
So, this morning I went on a word-finding spree to find these "word lists" and find out WHY I was supposed to avoid these words - and more import
Literature
Writing Tutorial: Dialogue
"An Amateur-Editor's Note on How to Paragraph Dialogue, and Other Dialogue-Related Crime Avoidance Techniques" by Dailenna
On my daily walk about the internet I often come across some horrible piece of writing at which I'm forced to stop reading and take a few deep breaths to calm myself before either sending a note to the writer, or fleeing in terror. These pieces of writing are usually just an accumulation of terrible spelling, grammar, syntax, and too much or too little plot, description, dialogue or action. Yes, there are stories that may have a lean towards dialogue or action and still look absolutely wonderful – in fact, these are the
Literature
The Chronology of Storytelling
Imagine you're reading to a live audience. It can be as big or small as you'd like. It can be your writing or someone else's. It doesn't matter. Indulge yourself in the fantasy. So you're reading to a live audience. They're enraptured. They're engrossed. They're generating a movie in their heads as you weave your tale. Imagine how important every word you produce is to these movies. Every detail you provide adds another layer. They smell the flowers. They feel the roughness of the brick. They see the vivid colors of the clothes.
And then you require they perform time travel to make the movies accurate.
Wait. What?
The chronology, or order
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I was up really late last night. It was raining, and for some reason, I feel so at peace when it rains, especially at night. I didn't want to go to sleep.
So I started thinking about some of my personal experiences and ended up writing this poem. It's one of the most personal poems I've ever written, but I was quite pleased with how it turned out, so I wanted to submit it.
The events described in the poem actually did happen, but the poem itself is a metaphor; the real time wasn't in my bedroom and I didn't open a window (but I do think it had rained earlier that day). I think of it a bit as one of the first things that started getting me out of my depression period. I can never forget the feelings I had. Heh. My eyes still water a bit when I think about it.
I hope you can understand what I'm talking about in this poem. If you don't, I won't mind if you ask.
So I started thinking about some of my personal experiences and ended up writing this poem. It's one of the most personal poems I've ever written, but I was quite pleased with how it turned out, so I wanted to submit it.
The events described in the poem actually did happen, but the poem itself is a metaphor; the real time wasn't in my bedroom and I didn't open a window (but I do think it had rained earlier that day). I think of it a bit as one of the first things that started getting me out of my depression period. I can never forget the feelings I had. Heh. My eyes still water a bit when I think about it.
I hope you can understand what I'm talking about in this poem. If you don't, I won't mind if you ask.
© 2006 - 2024 Hitotsuboshi
Comments27
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"At last, Now I remember... 'It’s about time you asked. Yes, of course, my child.... I love you'"
I understand this completely. last year was a difficult year for me. and like you said, "a window only i can open." sometimes there's no point in having a window if you keep the curtains drawn. you have to let the light in. The Light.
Thanks for this poem. It's really special.
A couple verses in Isaiah that really opened my window: "A voice says, 'Cry out!' And I said, 'What shall I cry?" and "even youths grow tired and weary, young men stumble and fall, but those who hope in the Lord will renew their strength." there's my two cents worth!
I understand this completely. last year was a difficult year for me. and like you said, "a window only i can open." sometimes there's no point in having a window if you keep the curtains drawn. you have to let the light in. The Light.
Thanks for this poem. It's really special.
A couple verses in Isaiah that really opened my window: "A voice says, 'Cry out!' And I said, 'What shall I cry?" and "even youths grow tired and weary, young men stumble and fall, but those who hope in the Lord will renew their strength." there's my two cents worth!