Poetry To Read Novels & Stories

'The Iridescent Stars; mmh… Typical of tonight. Nneoma read the poem, her voice smooth and steady. I gaze up the night sky What meet my gaze? Myriads of shinning stars They shine like iridescent diamonds Diamonds of sublime beauty They twinkle and shine, twinkle and shine. Giving light to all nocturnal creatures The brilliant stars tell me Tales of life yonder They tell me of great meadows With yew trees, yew trees with amber Fruits, of azure rivers ever flowing Of golden fishes ever swimming

I say finally. "One more hour," Derek agrees, but his smile suggests he knows it won't stop there. As we walk back into the gallery, I catch our reflection in the glass doors. The woman looking back doesn't look guilty or scared. She looks alive. And for the first time in years, that feels like enough. Inside, Derek guides me to a small alcove where a local poet is giving a reading. Her words flow like music, raw and honest and beautiful. "Tell me about your dreams," she reads, "the ones you buried so deep you forgot they were there. Tell me what you'd create if fear wasn't holding the pen."

His heartbeat transfers through his chest into my palm, one steady knock after another. I notice the book on his desk. Half-open, a page marked with a folded corner. "What are you reading?" His chest shifts as he reaches for it. "A poem," he says. "Let me read you the part I've been thinking about." He reads it quietly, voice low enough that it doesn't carry past the room. "Put out my eyes: and I shall see you, too, seal up my ears: and I shall hear you still, and without feet I yet can go to you,

I pulled one out at random, a collection of poetry, and began to read. I sat on the couch, surrounded by the silence of the beach house, lost in the words of the poetry book. The verses spoke of love, loss, and longing. I felt a pang in my chest as I read, recognizing the emotions that had been swirling inside me. The poet's words were like a mirror, reflecting my own thoughts and feelings back at me.

Sarah sat in her bedroom, surrounded by soft cushions and warm lighting, with Griffin's notes scattered across her lap. As she flipped through the pages, her eyes landed on a section filled with poetry. The words danced across the paper, written in Griffin's familiar scribble. At first, Sarah thought they were just random musings, but as she delved deeper, she realized the poems were about a person's beauty. The descriptions were vivid and captivating, speaking of sparkling eyes, radiant skin, and luscious hair.

She couldn't believe how childish she was to be doing something so superstitious. " It's a surprise." Mr Theo teased. " Tomorrow it will be announced." The whole class booed him but he did not care. "Open you books to page thirty five." Mr Theo instructed. " Today we will be doing a poem . It's called petals. Ella please can you stand up and read the poem."

I said, and my voice came out slightly less steady than I wanted it to. He leaned over my shoulder to look at the page. His breath was warm against the side of my neck. "Read it to me," he said quietly. "H—Huh?" "The poem. Read it." My hands were not entirely steady as I held the book up. I breathed in and read. "I carry your heart with me (I carry it in my heart) I am never without it (anywhere I go you go, my dear; and whatever is done by only me is your doing, my darling)..."

The children were arranged in the front row, Emma and Jack sitting with solemn ceremony, Marcus in Clara's arms, Leo standing slightly apart with his piece of paper, already reading it silently to himself with moving lips. The officiant spoke briefly. Then he invited Leo to read. Leo unfolded his paper and cleared his throat with the self-consciousness of a thirteen-year-old performing in front of adults, which passed quickly once he started reading. He had written the poem himself, which Chloe had not known and which Lucien, judging by his expression, had also not known. It was not a polished poem. It had an uncertain metre and one rhyme that did not quite work, and it was, without question

His smile could light up the entire library. He settles into the leather wingback, my favourite chair, the one I curl up in when I want to feel held, and opens his book. I catch a glimpse of the cover. Pablo Neruda. Twenty Love Poems and a Song of Despair. “Why are you reading that?” He looks up at me. “What?” I clear my throat. What the fuck are you doing Vanessa? I adjust the collar of my shirt. “Neruda. Why are you reading it?”

Everyone gasped including Lora who was crying silently. “Then why are you afraid that I might read this one poem at the hidden part?” He asked but Fera jumped to him and snatched the notebook. She scratched that part and aggressively tore it into pieces. The police went to her and restrain her while Ben took his phone out and show them the picture of the poem. “May I read the poem, your honor.” The jury was curious too, so he let him read it. “Drown by the sound of fury, A night when hears nobody,