Biography of R.S. Farris
Likes: French operas on NPR
Dislikes: Artificial grape flavoring
Laughs At: 'Dangerous' 6-year-olds
Pulls Her Hair Out When Sitting Next To: People who make annoying tapping noises during recitals
Makes Money By: Babysitting twin boys and their ridiculous brother
Endures: Dogs who bark during nap time
Is In Love With: Statuettes of Bach and Schumann
Is Not A: Calvinist
Has very good taste in: Names
Is Planning To Set Up A: Felting studio
Just Made Her First Purchase On: Ebay
Has A Favorite Punctuation Mark, Which Is The: Semicolon
Wishes She Was: Watching 'Amelie'
R.S. Farris Poems
I am one of those who write in journals knowing, somewhere inside, that we really want someone to read this. Not blatantly, but somehow, some way, we want someone to know. Why else would we
Comprendre La Vitesse
when you live your life too quickly, you react as in a daze-
A high-water mark in the process of growing up is the dread realization that the world is not cut and dried anymore. A child sees the world from
It would not be a violation of my will If You were to take me now. Just consume me; end this Constant struggle to be
Love Song For Toccoa
at the top of the hill, near the college, last night, was a beautiful yellow-gold moon it was painted in place, with the soft touch of brush-strokes like contrails across the night sky
The furniture store has a false front. Disgruntled, tired of being the shortest building on the street, it now raises its green plywood edifice to the clouds,
Life Is A Vending Machine-A Real One
Life is a vending machine—a real one, not the impeccable myth that perpetually coughs up correct change. Put in hard work and you’re supposed to get results; put in love and love comes back.
'Intentional Combinations Of Words'
This poetry is not my cup of tea. An essay’s more my type of writing; prose is what I crave, what I devour in my spare time, what I love, as cliché as
i do not know so many things, and this blank dearth of ignorange is paralyzing, conquering at times
Some Have Called You Proud, And So You A...
some have called you proud, and so you are, though, rightfully, you have no grounds to be: oh, death, you cannot keep me long. triumphant though your victory may be,
the air stands close and still. time pauses, poised upon the movement of a hand, until the releasing, the beckoning noise
The Dandelion Kings
o, bright, my dandelion kings, how bright in the softly falling rays of the morning sun- o, bright as the sun rose high, unmoved in its ascent by your quick steps and happy noise
And The Point Is...
hemingway wrote clearly and concisely. in fact, his works were so accessible that thirty percent of us saw just what he meant. the rest of us
In a quiet place, where no one goes, I sit, swaying a little in the breeze. I wonder if the water in the stream Has ever tried to quell the never-ceasing
To Dr. And Mrs. Mcgraw
Do you kiss on New Year's?
Do you still flirt, laughing at each other's
Faces as we laughed back then?
Do you eat chocolates and build
A big puzzle, now that you're old?
Do your layers of sweaters still match?
Do you still correct him, gently, as the
Memory of two doctorates slowly