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Hunter Nelson Mar 2015
As the world admonishes
the curiosity and heroism of youth
their mother's milk spoils inside,
and the hopeful
become sour.
This poem was a response to "Catcher in the Rye."
Proviquis Feb 2015
finished the book,
and pondered upon why
it seized to conclude how it looked
the catcher in the rye

stood up and took
a stroll down the aisle
i saw that You looked
a Marvelous Connection of Eyes

i lift my head once in a while
only to see an Astounding Sunrise
a hundred feet, feels like a mile
but, Love has blessed me with eagle eyes

only, from a distance now
studying, carefully, Your Astounding Fragility
Forgetting, many of thousands of words
as You Wander so Elegantly
I wish I had some nerve. I could really use a blessing like her.
Kvothe Dec 2014
My childhood was a lonely one,
sat dust-lunged in my room,
while others had fun,
I'd sit in the gloom.

Surrounded, with old books and toys,
football, at all, wasn't my thing.
Not 'one of the boys',
my own lonely king.

Ruled empires, of plastic and prose,
my imagination, sensational flights of ideas!
It actively rose,
along with my fears.

Oh! But if chance would be given,
to redo those days in new ways,
same way I'd live 'em,
in radiant haze.

— The End —