Poem 1: "Winged Victory"

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Winged Victory


Beautiful bodies, pristine poise,
firmly on the hard marble floors
ruined by excessive accessories.
Poses and attitudes, bearings and emotions-
what on earth to think of these creations?
. . . Bored.
I stare at the dull statues.
I think to myself, I do not like it here.



I wander the halls greeted by the guide,
struggling to describe a new painting.
Even she, who knows this place so well,
struggles with putting words to a painting here.
My all-knowing sister, quick to help.
The new painting, like everything here:
uninteresting, irritable, maddening.
The guide finishes an explanation
(my sister helping).
Our group moves along,


"...here we have Winged Victory."
My throat constricts;
beautiful, graceful, elegant.
She's like a moving picture
advancing in the sunlight.
Set above them all,
two feathered wings soar behind her.
She steals my breath away.


"Nike, the symbol of strength and sport."
Our guide explains, as my interest awakens.
Moving on, I find myself
intrigued, engrossed, inspired.


My heart,
no longer tinged by boredom,
now beats in excitement
awaiting its next delight.
I like it here.




A/N: This was actually a story written for my class- I hope that you enjoyed reading! <33

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