poem

when a little something is everything, 

and that little something is nothing,

everything is nothing.

But I saw that

At the place of strange happens

Zansabar

Agen at that place

Reading a strange poem

Eat in a pear too

Dreamer.wav

You appeared several times Read more »

Sleepy Secrets.wav

Wrapped in a cozy blanket; Read more »

Dollhouse.wav

Just a sad tear Read more »

Empty Promises.wav

I promised myself that I wouldn't miss you.

Dancing Shoes.wav

Each breath I breathe in Read more »

Six Word Story

By Dominic Begue

• I love to read all day.
• I have sailed the seven seas.
• I am signed up for rocketry.
• The sky is blue and white.
• There are eight planets in all.
•  My book’s main character name is Eragon.
• My friend wrote a long story.
• This is my six letter story.
• I have a nice wool scarf.
• My face went black and blue.
• I’m on a computer right now.

Valentine.wav

I wouldn't mind staying here for a while Read more »

Never- After

So What

Always

You never looked

Back at my sobbing heart

In the cold light of evening.

You never looked back, Read more »

Sundays.wav

The change of pace on Sundays
keeps time to the words on the pages of books
snuggled up in the comforters.
It is in the breaths of the snowflakes
which are slow to fall to the ground.
The steam cresting the tea mug
reminds me not of the hours
wide awake all of Saturday, Read more »

Silver Lining.wav

I wipe the raindrops away from the windshield
and the teardrops away from my eyes;
the weather is predicted to rain today;
it’s really no surprise.

I’ll stare at the window watching the droplets race
dreaming of better days
when the sunlight will be so bright
that through closed eyelids I’ll see the rays.
Read more »

Dropping Heartbeat.wav

The temperature is dropping
And so is my heartbeat.
This isn't something funny
Or kind or cute or sweet.
My lungs take short breaths of frost
While you carelessly exhale heat.  Read more »

Insomnia.wav

I pull the sheets over my head

because the nightmares are back

underneath my bed.

The hours of the night are endless.

The sheep I was counting ran away

leaving me friendless.

Sleepy breaths and snores are far away;

I want to hold you close, but you won't be

back another day.

Memories tickle and awaken my skin

the good and the bad leave my 

sleeping hours thin.

I turn and I toss;

guilt is a tumult and

I'm at loss.

These are sleeping hours of waking sorrow;

I was tired today and yesterday and now I'll be

tired tomorrow.

I couldn't feel as my fingertips froze;

I couldn't even feel my toes;

I couldn't feel you move close;

I couldn't feel the tip of my nose.

I couldn't feel my cheeks flush;

I couldn't feel my skin blush;

I couldn't feel my blood rush;

I couldn't feel your soft touch.

I couldn't feel my fingertips;

I couldn't feel the frost's bitter nips;

I couldn't feel or come to grips

that all I could feel was your lips.

I could only feel your lips pressed on mine.

I couldn't feel anything but that, and that felt just fine.

  Read more »

Spinning jenny, spinning jenny;

she called it star spinning,

falling backwards into the field

and into the night.

Dizzy laughter and giggles

spilled from her lips.

Some call her crazy,

but she isn't, not really;

she was just a curious spirit, 

spinning revolutions

finding her place in the sky.

Steam engine, steam engine,

they say horsepower is what feuls him

and his eyes.

He has a hot temper

and rushed smoke in his eardrums.

Some call him crazy,

but it's not his fault, not really,

his childhood was nothing he could escape from

and now he's burning inside out.

Cotton gin, cotton gin,

she was caught in gin;

just a trap in the wine cellar.

The bubblies went to her head;

she was forgetting with every sip;

becoming lighter, closer to flying.

Some call her crazy,

she had such a future ahead of her,

but she didn't, not really

because she couldn't let go

of all that held her in her past.

I could absolutely not live without a pen.

I may not need a paper,

or the canvas of my arm,

or a park bench Read more »

I'm just a daydreaming girl

with no sense of direction.

North, South, East, West;

which way is the best?

Days lie before me,

leaving me excited but still disoriented.

North, South, East, West;

backwards progress on this quest.

I fear I'll make wrong choices;

I want happiness, not regret.

North, South, East, West;

my heart aches beating through my chest.

My arrow's compass diappeared

as I lost myself in this mess.

North, South, East, West;

in what life goals will I invest?

No one's around to answer my questions

or at least give me directions.

North, South, East, West;

Wrong paths leave me second guessed.

A never ending climb

on steep, upward stairs.

North, South, East, West;

My frazzled veins prove to be stressed.

Passion dragged me like a dog

to the ground, away from what I knew.

North, South, East, West;

Playing it safe won't pass this test.

Control is an issue, 

but is letting go the solution?

North, South, East, West;

Not looking before leaping, have I progressed?

Aching pressure, now I can't

start off where I left.

North, South, East, West;

Fear and worry make my time pressed.

My eyes close for me,  Read more »

I don't know what there iS lefT

to say to you, 

but I hope one day we wiLL get the chance

to sort this mess out.

LOng days pass, and i just wish that

eVErything turned out differentlY.

This Open ended sentence

is driving me crazy.

If I never Utter another word to you again,

I just want you to know:

He traces the words

with his fingers

to follow along with the story.

His eyes intently linger

taking in every word;

reading between the lines.

He traces the footprints

with his toes

stopping for a moment in this fast-paced life

to check the reality of what he actually knows.

Staring at the horizon, his big dreams seemed so small;

just another drop in the ocean.

She traced the fading words

in the stone,

the few words that prove

she's all alone.

The scarce words in loving memory can't compare

to what it was like to have him there.

She traces her collarbone

with her fingertips

thinking back to better days

of when her skin glowed and her smile beamed.

She hides secrets with every inhaled breath;

nothing is ever really what it seems.

He traces the scent

with his nose;

the dog sniffed the dirt

matching the smell with her clothes.

A hero in charge of finding the lost,

returning all to those with fingers crossed.

She traced her faint shadow

in the ground.

She's lost and has no hope

of being found.

After wandering in circles, so it appeared,

she stayed put, breathing fear, hoping someone would find her here.

I will bat my eyelashes
and toe tip to your kisses.

I will run into the street
and look back to see you chase me.

I will point at the moon
and you will name all the stars for us. Read more »

Sing to me,

and with each note

your voice strokes,

I become a little sadder 

because it is painfully beautiful.

Those words were

riding bareback on a

horse

galloping in the foam

of the sea

at midnight.

Those sounds were

the training coming into the station;

the final stop of the night,

picking up all of the people

that belong 

somewhere else

at midnight.

Especially the girl with the

sad eyes,

looking scared as the 

train sighed,

pulling into the station

at midnight.

Those feelings were

the girl diving backwards

off the boardwalk

into the ocean

that no longer roared.

The pulsing silence

in her ears

became louder

as she held her breath

at midnight.

Sing to me,

and with each note

your voice strokes,

I become a little sadder

because you are resurrecting phantoms

I thought my soul had forgotten

at midnight.

You had icicles for eyelashes, 

but I was so cold and alone.

My judgments may have been off, 

but I trusted that being with you

would bring me warmth and company.

I burrowed myself into the hollow of the tree,

shifting about; unable to find myself comfortable,

but at least I was no longer in the snow,

wandering back and forth,

retracing footsteps that had already been

blown away

by the selfish winds.

You ruffled your feathers

and flew away.

The lights went dark, 

and my safe hollow

became a prison.

Today I learned that

it is not the bones that ache,

it is all of the flesh,

and nerves, and life

in between.

We are just a mess of bones

held together by: others that care,

random acts of kindness, emotions, 

love, and true feelings

that run so deep

they scare you.

There is no such thing as thick skin;

some people are just better

at hiding their emotions

than others.

My palms are open,

my heart is open

and my doors are open

to you and your words

which will probably fill me

with no good.

My thoughts are closed, 

my veins are closed, 

my eyes are closed;

I am still waiting for you

to wake me

from my sleeping beauty nightmare.

There is a winter wonderland; 

a place where people shuffle their feet

from place to place in the snow banks,

looking down at the ground, 

only looking up to greet passerby's

with a smile

from frosty lips.

Christmas lights decorate the shops, 

snowflakes decorate the trees,

and words decorate the pages

of the novels that everyone has their noses buried inside.

There are coffee shops on every corner,

giving people a warm reprieve from the winds and runny noses.

Their cheeks flush warm, eyes aglow.

Puddles melt from their boots,

and hearts melt from the people.

When they finally leave,

they savor the last sips of their drink

and push out of the door with a bell,

greeted by goodbyes.

Shuffling away, they stare at their boots,

only to look up to greet a lover

with a smile from frosty lips,

with eyes that shine bright against the snow,

and soft breaths of clouds

passing between them.

  Read more »