Posts
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A Glimmering Pool of Inspiration
A bubble of light rests atop the water,
Glimmering and glinting across the lake.
It’s a pocket of sunshine,
A pillow of glowing hope,
A pool of life.
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The Orchestra of Fall
Autumn leaves flutter around my head,
The color popping in the chilly,
Swirling air.
The veins stretch out,
Delicate within the leaves.
They connect,
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A Pathway of Hope
Bits of sunshine peep through tree branches,
The rays cascading over the glimmering water.
The reflected light forms a pathway,
A trail towards the sun.
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Complex Ridiculousness
Thoughts and ideas twirl,
Merging storylines,
Squashing facts,
Manipulating personalities,
Melding stories together.
Little pockets of reality spin
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Galleries of Mantras
Everyone has their own religion,
Something they can look upon.
It could be a motto,
A quote or a book.
There are widely known religions,
With belief filled books.
But even then, -
A Spark of Worth
Little orange mushrooms sprout,
The ruffle running along a crack
In the dark wooded log.
The rain is constant,
Drizzling across the lake,
Fogging the air,
Settling gloom into everything.
Loves
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ojos de paz (eyes of peace)
Yo quiero un mundo
de felicidad para todos.
Donde hay no fin de cuánto
tu puedes amor
todos las cosas
tu quieres.
Cree tu eres el sola persona
en el mundo,
y cierras sus ojos
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Ode to Grandma's Zwieback
Culture is a peculiar word.
Holding such importanceIn someone’s person
Celebrated and encouraged
Songs
Art
Food
Grandma's ZwiebackLittle pockets of answers
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writing makes it real
I sat down to write a poem about politics,
About how our country is tearing itself apart,
About how we’ve tried to glue pieces back together,
About how somehow it’s already been a year.
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Maryn (haikus)
It's sand, mud and dirt
but some see the blue beyond
and call it a beach.
She almost forgets.
Summer nights still taste like smoke
and fireflies still dance.
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A Half-Satirical Attempt At Explaining What It Feels Like to Attempt to Bargain With Time
Hey. So, it’s me. Like always. Also, it’s 12:30. I’m sure you’ll remember that, like always, I would love to be able to sleep. Maybe you’ll just give me another hour or two? See, I had things to do. Poetry. A portfolio.
