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3.0k · Oct 2013
Some things I detest
Hannah Larson Oct 2013
People making jokes about my birthday.
Banging teeth when kissing.
Eggplant.
Walking to school in the cold without a sweatshirt.
Being too cold and losing feeling in any body parts.
Kissing someone with ****** hair. It hurts.
Saggy knees.
Stretch lines.
Homophobia in any way, shape, or form whatsoever.
Boys whose hallway swag gets in the way of my getting to class on time.
Having to wait until he and I can be together.
Period cramps.
2.4k · Oct 2013
The Sea Voyage
Hannah Larson Oct 2013
For one month Odysseus toiled and
Built up the house that stood so great before,
Clearing away the cobwebs that had been.
Twenty years since truly being a home,
Twenty years since being filled with laughter
That was more than lust of insolent men.
And so Odysseus sent for his son
That they may set out on an angling jaunt.
Whilst they were making their way in the deep,
A strange singing filled the air and they were
Surrounded by fog as thick as the stew
Telemachus’ mother often prepared.
Out of the mist strode a Nereid with skin
The color of the purest of milk creams.
Silky hair fell in lush amber waves down
Her flawlessly curved back, flowing smoothly
Such as the Nile river in the wind.
And she said unto them, “Friends, do not be
Frightened, for I shall bear you no harm. You
Who have come from years of fear and anguish,
I now call to bear a terrible task.
There is a great daemon in these waters,
An archfiend who calls herself Lamia.
She eats any children who dare descend in
Waters where she lurks hidden in shadow.
She snatches at the ankles of the young
Like a solicitous epistle grasps
At the heartstrings of those who read it. She
Is a sickness that has no remedy,
A war with no end. She is the dark thought
One cannot be rid of. She is pure death.
Please, great Odysseus, vanquish this thing
Haunting every step of the innocent.
I give to you this costume that one may
Receive the breath of life underwater. ”

Upon agreeing to the colossal
Undertaking, Odysseus and his
Progeny initiated their search
Across the marine for the beast behind
The mask of trepidation. However,
‘Twas not long until Lamia herself
Appeared to them and made to devour
Telemachus himself, for he was a
Young man, young enough to vex her temper.
This thing that had risen out of the depths,
She had a beautiful face matched closely
Only by Venus herself. But beneath
The splendor is that of an animal
With the scaled, winding tail of an immense
Serpent and talons ending her long hands.
She apprehended the son of our great
Hero in a clawed fist and began to
Raise him to her massive gaping gullet.
Before the harm was done, Odysseus
Seized a sarsen from a near formation
And heaved it at Lamia’s beautiful
Head. The boulder succeeded in breaking
All of her shining teeth, preventing her
From consuming Telemachus. She
Fulminated for a moment, and then
Hastily withdrew to her cavernous
Space.
           Odysseus followed, retrieving
A bronze sword from a shipwreck he passed in
His haste. Brandishing his weapon fiercely,
He charged. Managing to scarcely avoid
Lamia’s lashing tail and slashing claws,
He climbed to the base of her neck and plunged
The sword into the soft flesh that was there.
He tore the blade back and forth, severing
The pronounced head from her ghastly body.

After slaughtering the daemon, the two
Swam for shore, Telemachus breathing by
Way of keeping hold of his father’s suit.
Once at the surface of the sea, they were
Met once again by Amatheia,
The Nereid who’d charged them with the duty,
Who rewarded Odysseus with a
Magic bag that could hold any item,
Size or shape, and never got heavy, no
Matter its load. When given, it held 100,000
Drachma, a great deal of money for them.

After thanking her freely and being
Thanked in return, the men were magicked back
To their home on Ithaca, where remained
Penelope, wife to Odysseus.
They lived quite happily off the money
Gifted graciously to them, and were graced
By the great Gods forevermore for the
Grim duties performed by Odysseus.
Hannah Larson Oct 2013
A simple, well-cut black dress with pearls and up-swept hair. So, Audrey Hepburn.
The way the Japanese drink traditional and ceremonial tea.
The shape of a ballerina.
French manicures.
Horseback riding.
Victorian dresses.
1.1k · Oct 2013
Found Poem No.2
Hannah Larson Oct 2013
In the sapphire of the night
Secrets hide in shadows
Untouched by the mortal fight
They come to taunt
A rose on the shoulder
Ivy on the wrist
The brazen fools come calling
Into the frigid mist
Eyes of emerald green
Hair auburn sleek
The eyes pierce the soul
Into the mind they peek
Slender fingers dance
Making knives of feathers
Encrypted words prance
Shimmering in the light
The distance of the fall
Does nothing to the raven
Amidst a mirage of serpents
The shattered truth is taken
Writhing in the tides
Trying to dodge the spears
Flaunting hidden bravery
Masking burnt tears
Trying to forget the shock
Trying to forget the need
Acting like you're powerless
Desperate to ignore the plead
Dreams frozen in lava
Elegance disappears
Release the hidden tiger
Slip into the fears
Dare to steal the gremlin
Dare the beat the drum
Dare to set them trembling
Dare to mock the sun
Hannah Larson Oct 2013
It's okay to say no.
You're more attractive than you tell everyone you think you are.
Always moisturize directly after showering.
Never forget a lantern when camping.
Brown eyeshadow during the day makes you look slutty.
You don't need to flirt with everyone.
Don't assume all men are the same. Just because one made a mistake doesn't mean another will make the same one. Just because one does something wonderful doesn't mean another will do the same.
Never shop hungry or unhappy.
I write bad poetry when I'm sad. I write good poetry about being sad when I'm content.
Matching ******* and bra makes for a good day.
Talking to him makes everything better.
He is a lot more trustworthy than you think he is.
It's okay to want to be alone for a while.
947 · Oct 2013
Some beautiful things
Hannah Larson Oct 2013
A perfect apple with just the right amount of juice, crunch, and ****.
The bare branches of a large tree silhouetted against a cloudless, starry night in the winter.
The feeling of a brand new, sharp pencil flowing out words onto a blank page from my soul.
Mentally and physically handicapped people who go through life happy.
Saving someone's life.
A good healthy crying session.
A freshly opened geode.
The smell of a new book's pages.
The dip between the eyes and the cheekbones.
A song that gives you goosebumps.
A small child's hand wrapping tightly around my finger.
A cottage with morning glories climbing up one side.
A crown of leaves and flowers.
Going on a photography adventure during the Golden Hour, when the perfect light makes everything look beautiful.
The mist rising off of a lake in the early hours of a cold morning.
The feeling after a good haircut when your head is lighter and free.
A really well-done smokey-eye.
People with scars like mine.
Him when he's sleeping next to me.
Hannah Larson Oct 2013
Performing in front of anyone.
A cute guy smiling at me.
Playing something beautiful on the piano.
Knowing that I did my makeup well and someone says so.
Catching a glimpse of him.
Hearing his voice on the phone.
When he looks at me with so much love in his eyes.
A boy sighing (not in an exasperated way) at me.
Singing a beautiful song well.
786 · Oct 2013
Anxiety No.1
Hannah Larson Oct 2013
What do you expect me to do here,
while you're in Boston,
living your life,
experimenting,
experiencing?
Do I look the other way while you
flirt with all the boys in their
tight shirts and sparkling grins?
Do I try to pass the time while you
wink at all the girls with their
short skirts and multi-hued eyes?
Do I try to occupy my time with other
boys and their watery words-
everywhere, yet somehow always
slipping through my slit palms,
too abundant to be meaningful
and too ever-changing to be
substantial?
532 · Oct 2013
Found Poem No.1
Hannah Larson Oct 2013
An avalanche of mischief
Masks my despair
The moon creates a portal
And I see your face there
You sit upon your throne
Watch the world in a cage
Try not to show the white flag
Your soul harbors no rage
An ocean of memories
Turns the world to stones
A snake in the grass
That covers your bones
A sacrifice clad in emotions
A mission left incomplete
A shadow in the distance
Promises defeat
Losing dignity bit by bit
But you're motionless in the cloud
Carrying a silver scythe
To make your father proud
Trouble brewing over the hill
Is enough to condemn a man
But water flowing from a cool spring
Makes tradition of the plan
449 · Oct 2013
I love you
Hannah Larson Oct 2013
I love you more than the sun and stars.
I love you more than every “I love you” ever spoken or whispered or thought.
I love you more than all of those as well as every wave, cloud, and rainbow that's ever been.
I love you more than every flower that has ever opened anywhere, ever seen or imagined.
I love you more than bacon.
I love you more than cream cheese frosting and StumbleUpon.
I love you more than my weird indie music.
I love you forever.
Hannah Larson Oct 2013
You should never try to recapture the same thing exactly the same way it was before because you'll never get it right and you'll just be depressed.
When you're tired you get temperamental.
Baggy t-shirts make you look bigger than you already are.
Often greater clarity comes out of confusion.
If you feel sad, cry.
If you don't want to cry but you're about to, talk to someone about it.
442 · Oct 2013
Sometimes
Hannah Larson Oct 2013
Sometimes I wish I were pretty enough to turn heads.
Sometimes I feel like I'm never going to achieve anything in my life.
Sometimes I wonder if I'm really cut out for marriage and motherhood.
Sometimes I vow that I'm not going to eat at all for a long time or become bulimic so I can lose the disgustingness that is me. Then I forget and break my vow and it makes me appalled at myself.
Sometimes I wish I had a better memory. Actually, I always do.
Hannah Larson Oct 2013
The thought of seeing him when he's high.
All drunk people.
Him finding someone who's a better fit for him than me while he's at college.
Having a child with health complications.
Something going wrong and making me relapse with my cutting.
Constantly waking up in the middle of the night when I have to wake up early.
Something, anything, happening to him that takes him away from me.
War.
The thought that someone might be able to read my mind.
Large crowds of people.
391 · Oct 2014
My Life, a Story
Hannah Larson Oct 2014
When I read a book
I have a tendency to go right to the
Table of contents
To gauge what I'm in for
To see when I'll be crying
When there's "When She Saw Him"
And "The Last Goodbye"
I don't know what's going to happen
But I know something will
When I get really into a book
I have a tendency to go right to the
Last few pages
To see whose names are still relevant
Who survived that goodbye and
Was that look of when she saw him filled with
Daggers or stupid little red paper hearts
Who has made it to the last few pages
To say, yeah, it got rough but we made it through
I wonder
If you went to my table of contents
What you would see there
I wonder
If you went to the last pages of this story
Would you see my name?
Hannah Larson Oct 2013
Laying under my pink quilt on the roof outside my room during the fall gives me pleasure.
    Going out into the wild green yonder (the creek and woods behind my house) and seeing what tiny beautiful things I can notice gives me pleasure.
    Laying in bed in the morning with the window open and listening to people get ready for the day gives me pleasure.
    Curling up in my lover's lap while he reads or watches tv gives me pleasure.
    Fitting myself perfectly into my love's crooks in that lovely half-asleep state gives me pleasure.

— The End —