love and misadventure by lang leav pdf free Love And Misadventure By Lang Leav Pdf Free 31 Reads 0 Votes 1 Part Story. garsicagar. See the Glog! Download Free ePub eBook Love & Misadventure (Lang Leav) PDF: text, images, music, video | Glogster EDU - Interactive multimedia posters. Love & Misadventure book. Read reviews from the world's largest community for readers. Lang Leav is a poet and internationally exhibiting artist. A. .
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Love & Misadventure Pdf is available here. You can Lang Leav's evocative love poetry speaks to the soul of anyone who is on this journey. Answered Jun 17, I got the book from Lang leav - love lesforgesdessalles.info ( KB). Click the 1st link and follow the instructions to download the PDF. Lang Leav's evocative love poetry speaks to the soul of anyone who is on this journey. Leav has an unnerving ability to see inside the hearts and minds of her readers. Her work expresses the intricacies of love and lesforgesdessalles.info & Misadventure is her first poetry collection.
Lang Leav's poems are all the definition of bite-sized. It's not my cup of tea. Aug 13, Jesse JesseTheReader added it. Leav has an unnerving ability to see inside the hearts and minds of her readers. Good lawdddd, have mercy! O simian Venus, homeless Eve, Unwedded, stumbling gardenless to grieve Windswept guitars on lonely decks forever; Finally to answer all within one grave! After reading this tome, I am filled with wonder At the impossible limits of verbal blunder A person can go to:
He just is, I just am, and we just are. Anyway, when I was 12 or 13 years old, I had this diary filled with little poems about love and unrequited love, sighs, love, prince charming, love and more pinky pink love with a pinch of girl-pining-for-guy-ready-to-leave-everything-to-be-with-him.
I remember one of those high-quality poems: That means something like: Do you see the resemblance? And with this, I am not saying I am so mature and such a complex and supernaturally smart person bla blasasdssdf. I love poetry, and I know that it does not have to be all pretentious with difficult words and incredible images and erudite thoughts.
But, seriously, have you read those verses I just quoted?! I was expecting something more substantial. Just saying. Babbling over. And I thought those were awfully cheesy. Oh no, I am not translating that. If only I had collected all those poems A better book. I am sorry.
I don't enjoy rating books with one sad star. In fact, I don't have many one-star books. I try to find the silver lining.
But in my humble opinion, there is no silver in here, and definitely no lining. It is all cloudy and foggy and with a chance of rain. However, this is just one reader's opinion. A lot of people liked this book, so go ahead and find out for yourself.
View all 66 comments. Jul 02, Milena Wo rated it it was amazing Recommended to Milena by: View all 6 comments. Nov 12, Carla Carla's Book Bits rated it did not like it. I took some time to peruse this at the library because everyone's been getting excited about it on Tumblr. I don't really know what I expected..
Given the hype, I guess I expected to read some really insightful and profound stuff, but instead what I got was this: For— I am not a bore! It's not my cup of tea. View 1 comment. Nov 10, Jason rated it did not like it Shelves: I wanted to like this poetry collection because a dear former student let me borrow it. I am dreading the talk we will have when I hand it back to her. Maybe I'll just say, "Thank you for sharing this book with me. That was very thoughtful of you. I will tell her that I was mainly reminded of greeting cards when I read this collection.
For example, take this poem "Always": You were you, and I was I; we were two I wanted to like this poetry collection because a dear former student let me borrow it. You were you, and I was I; we were two before our time. Gag me. Her poems put these to shame, although sometimes they were kind of cute. Here's "Xs and Os": Love is a game of tic-tac-toe, constantly waiting, for the next x or o.
Greeting card. Lines of verse like that belong inside a Valentine's Day card. The overwhelming majority of these poems seem like they are first drafts scrawled in a notebook by a middle school girl who dots her i's with hearts. Here's "Closure": Like time suspended, a wound unmended--you and I. We had no ending, no said good-bye. For all my life, I'll wonder why. These bite-size poems feel incomplete, like they were just Jackson-Pollocked onto the page and because they're lovey-dovey, we as readers are supposed to like them.
Perhaps I am not the target audience for this collection. I was shocked to see it had such a high rating. This is just an instance of my being an English snob, I suppose.
The one poem I really like in this collection, "Rogue Planets," is a prose poem with some actual development. In typing Leav's poems, I did not recreate her line breaks for speed's sake. Sep 04, Ariel rated it liked it. I really enjoy reading modern poetry, especially by poets my age and poets that start their careers with an online following, and so I was really curious to see what Lang Leav had to offer!
This collection had a few poems that I dog eared, and I found some of the ideas cute or interesting, but overall it wasn't my style of poetry. I don't think I'll be picking up anything else by Lang Leav, but that's okay! Life goes on! This is probably more like a 2.
Nov 26, Kimberly Lloyd rated it it was amazing. Perhaps this person carries within them an angel--one sent to you for some higher purpose; to teach you an important lesson or to keep you safe during a perilous time. What you must do is trust in them--even if they come hand in hand with pain or suffering--the reason for their presence will become clear in due time. Their purpose isn't to save you but to show you how to save yourself. And once this is fulfilled; the halo lifts and the angel leaves their body as the person exits your life.
They will be a stranger to you once more. View all 3 comments. Jan 20, Miriam rated it did not like it. This poetry is so terrible that at first I thought it was a joke, but apparently that is not the case. View all 5 comments. Oct 16, Louisa rated it did not like it Shelves: He makes me turn, he makes me toss; his words mean mine are at a loss.
I like reading it; I like writing it; it's something I wish more people were into, though I can certainly understand why they aren't. My poetry professor once said that a good poem ought to have some form of metaphor or poetic sense. Lang Leav's poems are all the definition of bite-sized. They're easy to understand - a little too easy to understand. I've written poems like these myself, but I certainly expect a lot more profound stuff from a book as celebrated as this is.
Your hand reaches for mine. It's just so simple. I wasn't wowed by clever turn of words or phrases. There are some I like most of which have turned up in one form or another on Tumblr , but ultimately it didn't resonate with me. Maybe I'll go floss later.
That's about all the impact it had. Mar 08, Jason rated it did not like it Shelves: But as I said there are exceptions. One of my favorite poems, for example, is T. The threefold terror of love; a fallen flare Through the hollow of an ear; Wings beating about the room; The terror of all terrors that I bore The Heavens in my womb.
Had I not found content among the shows Every common woman knows, Chimney corner, garden walk, Or rocky cistern where we tread the clothes And gather all the talk? What is this flesh I purchased with my pains, This fallen star my milk sustains, This love that makes my heart's blood stop Or strikes a Sudden chill into my bones And bids my hair stand up?
So then I was wondering how something that to me seems so transparently saccharine could be so highly regarded. And that is when I came across this: So hurry and get liking. So not only do we have a woman who struggles to write decent poetry but she actually has to fiscally reward readers for promoting her work which, while perhaps not being an illegal practice, certainly raises ethical concerns given the nature of a website whose ratings system is supposed to be based on the opinion of actual, unbiased readers.
View all 19 comments. Jan 23, Jason rated it did not like it Recommends it for: The bee, buzzing buzzing buzzing like a chansaw, stings me in the eye-- OW! I've created a tumblr page for my poems about my owwies. Please follow! Poetry should make us feel.
This poetry made me feel tired and kind of itchy and pretty fucking grumpy. That's a five-star book, right? Minus four for the goddamn ampersand. Plus four for feeling so feely about your feelings, and getting so many others to feel. Minus four for being so cranky about what feelings people have, and pissing on other The bee, buzzing buzzing buzzing like a chansaw, stings me in the eye-- OW!
Minus four for being so cranky about what feelings people have, and pissing on other people's reviews.
Can't wait to read this! View all 7 comments. Dec 03, Rose marked it as not-my-cup-of-tea. Poetry is one of my first loves in writing, but I looked at some of the samples of the narratives from this and concluded it wasn't my thing. Too expensive of price for the quality of the poetry that's offered here.
Okay, I think I have something. For all the emotion carried within a look You'd think it'd have nothing to hide. If we're speaking the experience of love What it means to be cloaked i Poetry is one of my first loves in writing, but I looked at some of the samples of the narratives from this and concluded it wasn't my thing. If we're speaking the experience of love What it means to be cloaked in an embrace, Why is it that the words don't shove Their way past the page, float in space- Be the cup that fills to the brim, spills, a crested wave that swallows so bold?
Surely there's more to the heart that fills Each passing day, glitters more than gold. When you're in love, you do more than shout your affections to the expansive skies. You grab it by the clutches, wring it about Turn it on its head, fling it 'til it flies Like a boomerang coming back quick, Knocking you from any place you may stand.
Heavy and heady, a fog so thick You're lost to its clutch, no longer in command. Make me feel this, this pain yet pleasure In the rhythm of the text with which you dance Only here I can gain no true measure Of what love provides you with a single glance.
It's an empty rhyme, the most empty rhyme, A rhyme with which I do not choose to bide my time. Because the experience doesn't make me feel like its mine, And for all that's worth? Not any second, not any dime.
Review before reading This book I've not read, but the poetic samples provided In various reviews, have convinced me that it's best avoided. Poetry is such a sublime art That the words should come right from the heart; If forced, it would only distress impart - And sometimes what comes out is worse than a fart. Got a free copy Wouldn't spend money on something so sloppy! After reading this tome, I am filled with wonder A Review before reading This book I've not read, but the poetic samples provided In various reviews, have convinced me that it's best avoided.
After reading this tome, I am filled with wonder At the impossible limits of verbal blunder A person can go to: Such pretentious presumption! For the author of this volume thinks that stringing words together And heaping, without discrimination, one platitude on another Is enough to create "poetry", and to blissfully philosophise On love and life - and immediately, the world will empathise.
Well let me say this: No one, not even my dog! Good lawdddd, have mercy!
What did I just read? This is perfectly, absolutely a recipe for poetry disaster! I'm not a poetry expert by all means, but I've read several poems that is immensely evocative when read, but this one, this one takes the cake for poems gone horribly wrong! Goodness gracious! First and foremost, I would like to quote Leonardo da Vinci: However, instead of letting me feel something, I am officially devoid of any emotions after reading Leav's poems.
Imagine describing the feelings rather than letting readers interpret the poems by themselves! Secondly, poems are very personal in nature and subject to various interpretations I do respect why others loved this , but what is there to interpret? Everything has been spoon-fed. I didn't find any connection at all and barely felt anything.
It's superficial, pedestrian, and shallow. Here's an example: First Love Before I fell in love with words, with setting skies and singing birds— it was you I fell in love with first. Ok, my brain is not needed. Thank you very much! Another one: Codependency There is nothing more nice, there is nothing much worser; than me as your vice and you as my versa. A Question It was a question I had worn on my lips for days—like a loose thread on my favorite sweater I couldn't resist pulling—despite knowing it could all unravel around me.
In your hesitation I found my answer. Compare those to this: Little Beast by Richard Siken 3 History repeats itself.
Somebody says this. History throws its shadow over the beginning, over the desktop, over the sock drawer with its socks, its hidden letters. History is a little man in a brown suit trying to define a room he is outside of. I know history. There are many names in history but none of them are ours. We will forget him! You and I — tonight! You may forget the warmth he gave — I will forget the light!
When you have done, pray tell me That I may straight begin! Justice moved my maker on high. Divine power made me, Wisdom supreme, and primal love.
Before me nothing was but things eternal, And eternal, I endure. Abandon all hope, you who enter here. I rest my case. I weep for hooomanity. Rant over. View all 13 comments. Love it! Sundays with Michael I hold my breath and count to ten, I stand and sit, then stand again. I cross and then uncross my legs, the planes are flying overhead. The dial turns with every twist, around the watch, around his wrist. Resting there with pen in hand, who could ever understand? The way he writes of all I dream, things kind yet cruel and in-between, where underneath those twisted trees, a pretty girl fallen to her knees.
Who could know the world we've spun? I shrug my shoulders and hold my tong Love it! I shrug my shoulders and hold my tongue. I hold my breath and count to ten, I stand and sit, then stand again. Always You were you, and I was I; we were two before our time. Art and Books Without a doubt, I must read, all the books I've read about. See the artworks hung on hooks, that I have only, seen in books. A Betrayal I cannot undo what I have done; I can't un-sing a song that's sung.
And the saddest thing about my regret— I can't forgive me, and you can't forget. After You If I wrote it in a book, could I shelve it? If I told of what you took, would that help it? Wishful Thinking You say that you are over me, my heart— it skips, it sinks. I see you now with someone new, I stare, I stare, I blink.
Someday I'll be over you, I know, I know— I think. Mornings with You I slowly wake as day is dawning, to fingertips and lips imploring. Soul Mates I don't know how you are so familiar to me—or why it feels less like I am getting to know you and more as though I am remembering who you are. How every smile, every whisper brings me closer to the impossible conclusion that I have known you before, I have loved you before—in another time, a different place—some other existence. A Fairy Tale Start of spring; heart in bloom; our whisperings in sunlit rooms.
Summer was felt a little more; in autumn I began to fall. When winter came with all its white, you were mine to kiss good night. A Dream As the Earth began spinning faster and faster, we floated upwards, hands locked tightly together, eyes sad and bewildered. We watched as our faces grew younger and realized the Earth was spinning in reverse, moving us backwards in time.
Then we reached a point where I no longer knew who you were and I was grasping the hands of a stranger. But I didn't let go. And neither did you. I had my first dream about you last night. She smiles. What was it about? I don't remember exactly, but the whole time I was dreaming, I knew you were mine. All I thought and all I felt, was only just because, never was it ever you— until it was all there was. Souls do not have calendars or clocks, nor do they understand the notion of time or distance.
They only know it feels right to be with one another. This is the reason why you miss someone so much when they are not there—even if they are only in the very next room. Your soul only feels their absence—it doesn't realize the separation is temporary. Angels It happens like this. One day you meet someone and for some inexplicable reason, you feel more connected to this stranger than anyone else—closer to them than your closest family.
Perhaps because this person carries an angel within them—one sent to you for some higher purpose, to teach you an important lesson or to keep you safe during a perilous time. What you must do is trust in them—even if they come hand in hand with pain or suffering—the reason for their presence will become clear in due time.
Though here is a word of warning—you may grow to love this person but remember they are not yours to keep. And once this is fulfilled, the halo lifts and the angel leaves their body as the person exits your life. It's so dark right now, I can't see any light around me. That's because the light is coming from you. You can't see it but everyone else can. View all 8 comments.
Sep 11, Anuradha rated it did not like it Recommends it for: No one who actually likes poetry. Recommended to Anuradha by: Every hilarious one star review on GR. I know I said that for a bit I would be busy, But you all know how bad books send me into a frenzy.
I have a mountain of reviews to finish, I know, But after reading this 'book', I just couldn't let go. I think everyone here knows what a masochist I am, I'm spending way too much time, trying to make this rhyme. Leav's poetry, I'm never touching again. Better I know I said that for a bit I would be busy, But you all know how bad books send me into a frenzy.
Better poems were written by Ern Goon And he was fictitious, and kind of a toon!
I've read reviews here where people have said That poetry is about feeling, and not about language Respectfully, I would have to disagree, Because badly written poetry is just crappy. I've never read poetry so dismal, Even my twelve-year old cousin called it abysmal.
Leav tries too hard; She tries to use emotion as her trump card. She writes about pain and suffering and love, I've probably felt more emotion for a sock or a glove. I'm sorry if you thing I'm pretentious and elitist, Diluted literature is something I can't deal with. Leav represents everything I hate, In literature in today's day and age. I thank you for listening to my incoherent ramblings, I am definitely not a poet in the making It's just that this collection was really bad, I wanted to make fun, but it just made me sad.
My poetry, here I conclude, Because examples of Ms. Leav's work, I shall include. Like having something, so very delicious— then being told, to do the dishes. Just Friends I know that I don't own you, and perhaps I never will, so my anger when you're with her, I have no right to feel. I know that you don't owe me, and I shouldn't ask for more; I shouldn't feel so let down, all the times when you don't call.
What I feel—I shouldn't show you, so when you're around I won't; I know I've no right to feel it but it doesn't mean I don't. When Ignorance Is Bliss I deplore, being ignored. But it's perplexingly sweet, and quite sexy too— to be ignored, ignored by you. Time Travelers In all our wrongs, I want to write him, in a time where I can find him. Before the tears that tore us.
When our history was before us.
An Impossible Task To try or untry to forget you not, may be related somewhat— To tying, then trying to untie, a complicated knot. And so it goes on and on and on. Poetry is about feeling, but it's also about language. In fact, I would have given her the "feelings" argument if even one of her poems made me feel anything. I mostly just laughed a lot, and I laughed at her, not with her. Leav just comes off as pathetic and desperate in all her poems. And man, she needs to take up creative writing classes, because this is just bad.
I feel like I could write better poems than her when I'm senselessly drunk even.
She's somehow missed the whole point of poetry, because in poetry, it is the language that makes you feel. Feb 01, Isa Lavinia rated it did not like it Recommends it for: Is this parody?! Like this presentation? Why not share! An annual anal Embed Size px. Start on. Show related SlideShares at end. WordPress Shortcode. Published in: Full Name Comment goes here. Are you sure you want to Yes No. Be the first to like this. No Downloads. Views Total views. Actions Shares. Embeds 0 No embeds.
No notes for slide. Book Details Author: Paperback Brand: Description Beautifully illustrated and thoughtfully conceived, Love and Misadventure will take you on a rollercoaster ride through an ill-fated love affair—from the initial butterflies through the soaring heights to the devastating plunge.
And, in the end, the message is one of hope. The journey from love to heartbreak to finding love again is personal yet universal. Lang Leav's evocative love poetry speaks to the soul of anyone who is on this journey. Leav has an unnerving ability to see inside the hearts and minds of her readers.