Tag Archives: Writing

I am an oak saplingSlow growthMy roots are deeper and widerThan I am highI am solidAnd tenderStrongVulnerableI will twist with the windAs I growMy branchesUnfurling in shady tesselationsOffering golden acornsTo birds and squirrelsSpring green leavesTo caterpillars and antsI need waterAnd rich earthTo growBut I can survive a droughtAndI am findingMy forest

This is a poem I don’t want to put on the Internet.This poem(Like most bad things)I will keep to myself. This Poem gives meAnxiety.I want to Fix the GrammarButI set out to writeA Bad Poem So My first IntentionIsMy Last intention. This PoemIs for all the thoughtsUnSaidThat I keep to myself This Poem isAll theI’mperfectionsThatContinue reading “This is a Bad Poem.”

We each weave intricate narrativesAbout ourselves and our surroundingsThe little explanations and storiesDescribing who we are to ourselves We understand our lives in terms of time and experiencesMemories and placesEach friend, neighbor, family memberA character in our story We read chapters and excerpts from their own narrativesBut their stories unfold outside our ownWhere we areContinue reading “Infinite Tale”

My spirit quakesLike a tremor of the earthA snakeSits in my throatWinds its way down to my heartAnd squeezes Blood buzzes in my earsI breathe like a trembling aspen treeLeaves brittle with cold My thoughts are guppy fishSwimming in endless manic circlesTrapped in a tankTooSmallAnd I look at the world distorted through waterOr is itContinue reading “Up and Away”

She brushes her windswept hairAround her noble shouldersIt billows out in swirling patterns ofGrey and white as she prepares forHer nightly performance She smiles seductivelyEntices her azure lover closerWhispers in their ear until they blushA deep shade of cobalt She gigglesWinks her liquid golden eyeSwipes lipstick and eye shadow across her skinUnsure ifMagentaVioletTangerineOr rubyGoes bestContinue reading “The Extravaganza”

feet firm and apartshoulders backeyes closedlips to metaland then – the note. golden chocolate andweeping swansslide through the bell a second noteglides from the firstfades into the third and a fourtha fiftha sixth they tumble from the wallsjumble in exquisite patternstussle in a game of music they roll down the aislescrawl into the seatsslumber inContinue reading “the lone trumpeter”