Posts
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Hand-Scrawled Lines
I want to breathe
Both with looming skyscrapers,
And mountains stretched high,
To feel the sun
Smiling on my skin,
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Golden Plates of Autumn
A bird chirps
Along with morning's song,
Humming along
With warm beams of light,
Letting out calls
Merging with yawns
As arms stretch
Along with uncurling wings,
Reaching for a morning hug,
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Waiting With the Wind
Breeze ruffles
Through frills of grass,
Little green blades
Getting trampled again
And again,
Still rooted
In the soil,
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Standing Atop Pollen
I walk past a wall of pictures,
Some bright,
Some black and white,
Some dull but still rich,
Paper crinkled,
Wrinkled from the fast-paced
Rain of time,
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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,
Loves
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we did okay.
i found a binder full of photos from my preschool years,
lined paper covered in neat cursive
signed by my teachers, women who i remember the names of
and not much else. their voices were warm and the house
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Routine
Create
writing
medium or genre
poetry
body
this is my routine;
come home from school
open to this the first chance I get
write.
Write
write
write
