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Literature Text
On his knees
And forced to be blind
Breathing copper air
He makes no pleas
To those left behind
Brave Jehan Prouvaire
He lived for revolution
And spoke words of gold
Blood covers clothes and hair
He was part of the solution
Believed what he was told
Word master Jehan Prouvaire
He shouts as if confessing
Before the coming night
The break his stride was a dare
To deny what he's professing
Knew that he was in the right
Noble Jehan Prouvaire
A shot rang out
as if angels sing
The executioner does not care
The dead man's friends shout
and the echoes ring -
the final words of Jehan Prouvaire
And forced to be blind
Breathing copper air
He makes no pleas
To those left behind
Brave Jehan Prouvaire
He lived for revolution
And spoke words of gold
Blood covers clothes and hair
He was part of the solution
Believed what he was told
Word master Jehan Prouvaire
He shouts as if confessing
Before the coming night
The break his stride was a dare
To deny what he's professing
Knew that he was in the right
Noble Jehan Prouvaire
A shot rang out
as if angels sing
The executioner does not care
The dead man's friends shout
and the echoes ring -
the final words of Jehan Prouvaire
Literature
Enjolras
Bright eyes shining
As he encourages his people
The fatal battlecry
"Long live the Republic!"
Flows like blood through
War-torn Rue de la Chanvrerie.
Hands uplifted, reaching for a better future
Through gunpowder smoke and grime.
The last barricade is crushed
The tavern, the last haven,
Shelters the dead and dying.
He alone is unscathed
As the first ignoble King's soldiers
Break down the door and surround him.
At first, his hopeless defiance repels them--
They move back, unable to shoot.
He stands, backed against the brick wall
--no escape, but that is not his wish.
"Fire!" calls the guilty voice
And bullets pierce his hear
Literature
They Are Les Miserables
My lover died in the arms of un-remembrance,
Leaving me a lark in his place,
Leaving me no more need of him.
The hypocrite was taken by the river,
In a deliberate act of ironic selfishness,
And as he fell, he dreamed.
The boy fell at the hand of the merciless street,
Strewn between bodies,
Just another child who did not live to see the morning.
The young blood went with the eyes of his beholder,
Who is also known as the man who loved and believed in him,
They faded with no more than a histrionic sigh in a forgotten flash of red.
The battered rose slipped away in the arms of one who never saw,
The rain didn't hurt her but the woun
Literature
Eponine's True Last Words
Marius awoke slowly, a recognizable doctor over him. He was bandaged all over, blood seeping through.
"Monsieur, you were wounded fighting at the barricade. A gentlemen brought you in before you lost too much blood. You are very lucky, Monsieur," The man grinned at him, before exiting the room. Candlelight poorly lit Marius' face, flickering all about. His shirt was gone, revealing a bruised stomach and a bit of blood. He breathed heavily, trying to recall what happened. He had almost been killed at the barricade but who was the man who saved him? He saw all his friends die and yet a savior was there for him. At the
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Poetry inspired by the Shoujo Cosette-verse version of Jehan Prouvaire's death.
This is what I do in History of Asia.
I love Jehan.
But I do not own him, he belongs to L'HUGOMASTER <3
This is what I do in History of Asia.
I love Jehan.
But I do not own him, he belongs to L'HUGOMASTER <3
© 2008 - 2024 Dannyr-Van-Kipp
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Nice work!