Posts
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Golden grains of dawn
I twirl my fingers in the morning sand,
the golden grains brushing against my skin.
Day after day,
they soak up the sun's energy,
ready to heat whatever they touch.
Whenever the water rushes over them, -
To Gaze at the Results
Water glides along my body,
As I resist the restrictions
That it puts on me.
I propel my legs and arms,
Pulling myself forward,
Fighting the substance
That makes be weightless,
But still makes my muscles ache. -
Holding Ground
The trees stand boldly,
swaying in the gentle wind,
but still holding ground.
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Manipulated Chances
A soccer ball is kicked from a foot,
quickly rolling across the grass.
The grass understands the ball's duty,
and lets itself be flattened
from the glossy sphere.
It's trapped by a cleat
that rolls it away from others. -
Grounding roots
I gently sketch the branches
of a great pine tree.
I craft them to be delicate
but sturdy.
They hold power,
strength, and glory.
I draw the ground high,
so I can show
the roots that ground it. -
Codes Into My Flute
My fingers dance across my keys,
My lips bend into my embouchure,
And a soft note arises.
My fingers know what to do,
Shifting and caressing,
punching a code into the instrument.
Loves
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What ChatGPT Can Do
For the adjective challenge I described an apple and than I asked ChatGPT to describe an apple without adjectives.
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Memories and solid things
If I could weave the memories of you in a giant blanket
The night sky would appear
Or maybe the streets of that one city in Central America
The unspoken words caught in a language barrier
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She Was Blamed; It Wasn't Her Fault
“It was her fault
She was wearing that skirt
Practically asking for it”
No
No she wasn’t
She was 15 years old
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17
on the night that you broke your eyes open,
cried into candy packets you found at the petrol station smelling like gasoline and regret
in your still-standing baby teeth like slabs of sugared marble there were
