Posts
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From the Caves of the Sky
Mist still lingers,
Weighting the world,
Each droplet, each dewdrop,
Catching in the sun,
Refracting each ray,
But not quite like the sky,
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A Miracle Deemed Unlucky
A clover rests on my page,
Its stem proud and strong,
Its petals crooked
To prove its reality,
It’s color green,
So beautiful,
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Cradling a Glint of Inspiration
Inspiration
Is such a delicate thing,
Such an intricate dance
Between emotions and ideas,
A soft sparkle
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To Wield Both a Pen and a Sword
I want to hold
Both a pen and a sword,
To find struggle within my words,
To make pain drip from the ink,
Trickling onto my palms,
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Constellations That Spell Out Beauty
Beauty isn't perfection
It isn't when you look like a model
For a fancy brand;
It is rooted in your heart,
Golden sprouts peaking from the glands,
Little silver blossoms opening,
Proudly standing tall,
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A Threaded Soul Mapped Within a Heart
I have a dream
Of holding a book in my hands,
Running my fingers over the pages,
Crisp and fresh,
The white only lasting an inch
Or two,
Loves
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time
every second I think
this is the oldest I have ever been
this is the youngest I will ever be again
this second is gone this one too
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I really hope she wins
I knew this was coming
I knew he would run again
Every four years
And yet it still comes
With a shock
Then she stepped in
Giving me hope
Calling him out
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The Ocean
I’m at the ocean again,
and I feel at home again.
The salt breeze always reminds me of seaweed,
green string stitched into blue silk,
brown tangles piled on the rocks' edge.
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The Little Boy
The leaves have fallen.
They are changing.
It's almost that time of year again.
Over there, a little boy
sits alone,