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Incandescent

A spectrum of poems by Lyndon Wood


Incandescent (in-ken-des-ent) adj.: producing a bright light when heated

When creating these pieces, I had no idea what I was going to write about. I had no pre-planning, no thinking‌ Nothing. I placed my fingers on the keyboard, and let them go wherever they wanted. I Never looked back, except to check grammar mistakes. The hardest part of this entire collection was the title. None of the poems had anything to do with the others, so I was stumped on what the title should be. Then I came across the word incandescent. This as, listed above, means ‘to produce a bright light when heated.’ This was exactly what I was looking for. Because I feel when these pieces were written, my fingers were on fire as letters banded together, words formed into one. Now that they are all together, the finale has been ignited, Together creating an incandescent collection that I hope others enjoy reading as much as I did creating. {L.W.}


COUNTDOWN


Some-what

KING

Audio for Poem

Why hel l o t her e Bul l y, Ar e you her e t o make f un of me? Out of t he bl ue, Me you choose? Ther e ar e sever al hundr ed st udent s! Thousands i t seems! Pr owl i ng al ong t he wal l s, And I am your vi ct i m?! Ar e you her e t o beat me? Def eat me? Eat me? Ar e you a canni bal good si r ? To make me f eel bad So you f eel t he gl or y? Go ahead. I don’t car e. I’m over t he pai n. And because of you, chi l dr en have cr i ed. Hopes have di ed. You f eel so f ul f i l l ed, But I know f or a f act We ar e al l st r onger , and no one wi l l ever t ake your si de.


A house or a home? Audio for Poem

But even though the clouds float through

Where the grass rolls

And the flowers smile at the sun.

over the layered hill

It isn’t quite lovely here,

The flowers smile at the sun.

Since I’m the only one.’

It replies with a gleaming warmth

So listen closely

Like laundry fresh out of the drier.

when you walk,

Clouds float across the icy sky.

Through the animal’s gorgeous homes.

Though it may seems great, There are some sad stories as well.

But know that this place isn’t that great, It’s

Because for the

where

sweet little girl who lives her.

the

Life isn’t all that great…

lonely one

All the animals know her as the Lonely One. The only human around. And they say if you listen closely at night, You can hear her sing:

‘The grass rolls over the layered hills, The breeze is nice and chilly. The perfect place to laugh and play. And even be quite silly.

roams.


Citations Photo of clock Handshttp://bit.ly/VsHFfJ

Photo of bully survivor-

http://bit.ly/1b3dlMn

Photo of Lonely Girlhttp://bit.ly/GAVtik

Lyndon w