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Literature Text
Who are you, and what am I?
Remember me? I touched the sky
I flew too hard and burned too fast
Dreams like mine, they just don't last
I touched the sun on feathered limbs
I satisfied my wildest whims
But I burnt out, and I fell down
My body wasn't ever found
But don't remember me for how I failed
I embody all the dreams that've sailed
So who are you, and what am I?
Remember me? I wasn't afraid to fly.
Remember me? I touched the sky
I flew too hard and burned too fast
Dreams like mine, they just don't last
I touched the sun on feathered limbs
I satisfied my wildest whims
But I burnt out, and I fell down
My body wasn't ever found
But don't remember me for how I failed
I embody all the dreams that've sailed
So who are you, and what am I?
Remember me? I wasn't afraid to fly.
Literature
Icarus
Icarus
The dreamer who dreamed too high.
A myth to subdue glory-seeking youth.
It's the tale of a foolish boy who dared to try to reach the sun,
But the heat was too great,
and his make-shift wings melted,
Dooming him to the frothing waves below.
But is that really the truth?
Maybe it's not a cautionary tale,
But one of hope-
Of hope for all dreamers to come.
He didn't fail to touch the sun,
Rather he touched the greatest glory.
He soared past the bewildered birds,
On past the highest mountains,
On past cold reality
And cruel calculation
Blistering
Blazing
Burning
Literature
The Rumour of Icarus
Icarus—
there is a rumour that your father killed you, that
he bent your wings until they broke and then
told you, "Fly."
If this rumour is true, then it lives in the throats of
those fragile boys who wear your death like Cain's mark,
whose tender hands split like swollen tomatoes when
they pluck strangled seabirds, whose
arms slump beneath the weight of their father's genius.
And this rumour lives on
the under-skin of their eyelids so that when they die
or simply sleep
they dream of their fathers
or maybe just of Daedalus, standing with
his hands full of feathers and wax,
their blood-flecked down under his fingernails
Literature
Icarus
Sun girl,
the whispering stars
& feathered clouds dance
for you tonight.
Do not let anyone
clip your wings;
you were made for the skies.
Suggested Collections
I consider this my classic poem. I wrote it quite a long time ago.. but I still consider it one of my best. Human nature, philosophy.. Icarus was the boy of Daedulus the inventor. He flew too high to the sun, causing the wax of his wings to melt, and fell. Most people point to the story as a form of "Know wisdom and temperance."
I prefer to think he died just the way he wanted to.
Kissing the sky.
I prefer to think he died just the way he wanted to.
Kissing the sky.
© 2007 - 2024 Revosh
Comments50
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*HUGE KISS OF HAPPINESS* THIS IS BEAUTIFUL OMG!!! :") I LOVE IT!