| Poetry |
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| To begin with our poetry section will showcase writings by Tess herself. The first few poems are some of the last that she wrote. Enjoy your reading .... |
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| UNTITLED I declare now as this revolution takes place under a microscope. God is a cell. He implores, for he is now a member of war. The irate acid sterilizes his shield under which he prays to himself. The annals of war plow over the grounds as the bow and arrow drop and are forgotten. Oxygen runs through the horse�s nose. And we are liquid as we are poured onto the wounds of the bleeding and the hurt. |
| GEORGE WASHINGTON ~LIFE AND LEGACY~ His aging hand runs across the gold buttons on his coat. These hands, this body, one coat. He now looks at these aging hands with memories. For these were the hands that once were so smooth and clever. Their quickness once so wonderful. As the muscles would become tense and a finger closed and became the trigger. One man dead. His eyes, once so fresh and useful, Now deep and wise, Would pick up the slightest movement of a single, innocent leaf. His lips, once so soft as they pressed against his wife�s with such honesty and quality. Now, he stands on his mountain. He drifts into the trees and the grass without moving. The smell of his profession still dug deep into his nose. A slight pain in his throat. And he stands here now, Eyes, lips, coat . . . And once clever, now old hands placed over his heart. |