Creative Writing 2

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“The Second Coming,” William Butler Yeats

Turning and turning in the widening gyre
The falcon cannot hear the falconer;
Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;
Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,
The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere
The ceremony of innocence is drowned;
The best lack all conviction, while the worst
Are full of passionate intensity.

Surely some revelation is at hand;
Surely the Second Coming is at hand.
The Second Coming! Hardly are those words out

When a vast image out of Spiritus Mundi
Troubles my sight: a waste of desert sand;
A shape with lion body and the head of a man,
A gaze blank and pitiless as the sun,
Is moving its slow thighs, while all about it
Wind shadows of the indignant desert birds.

The darkness drops again but now I know
That twenty centuries of stony sleep
Were vexed to nightmare by a rocking cradle,
And what rough beast, its hour come round at last,
Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?


Daffodils by William Wordsworth

I wandered lonely as a cloud

That floats on high o’er vales and hills,

When all at once I saw a crowd,

A host, of golden daffodils;

Beside the lake, beneath the trees,

Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.

Continuous as the stars that shine

And twinkle on the milky way,

They stretched in never-ending line

Along the margin of a bay:

Ten thousand saw I at a glance,

Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.

The waves beside them danced, but they

Out-did the sparkling leaves in glee;

A poet could not be but gay,

In such a jocund company!

I gazed and gazed but little thought

What wealth the show to me had brought:

For oft, when on my couch I lie

In vacant or in pensive mood,

They flash upon that inward eye

Which is the bliss of solitude;

And then my heart with pleasure fills,

And dances with the daffodils.


Shadow by Maggie Montalto 

Although I don't see it all the time I know it's there

following and imitating my every move 

it doesn't like the dark

on sunny days it makes an appearance 

accompanying me 

without me it's lifeless

I wonder if it's disappointed

wishing it were somewhere else 

is this where it wants to be?

stuck here 

attached to me

maybe it dreams of life it could have if it were attached to someone else

I know sometimes I do


Maybe Tonight by Maggie Montalto
alone on a secluded street
left with nothing but my thoughts and the memories they keep
darkness encompassing me
everything looks different in the dark
headlights shine from cars driving past
tired but not the kind of tired sleep fixes
my eyelids heavy with the weight of the day
I could go anywhere
just drive and drive
the road and me
but I don't
maybe tonight