Posts
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Inspiration
I wait for inspiration
To strike me while I think.
I wait for a lightbulb
Or a thought bubble
Or lightning.
I wait for those ideas
I know I have to have
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I remember
I remember a time
When I felt so free
And everything, anything, I wanted could be.
The person next to me was everything
The worlds we created were ours.
Our vision was color and light and laughter
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Dear Mr. Snowman
Dear Mr. Snowman,
I wonder what it's like, being made of snow.
What have you observed? What all do you know?
On warmer days you could melt
Or be blown away by the breeze.
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Vermont in 2050
The evergreens
The piney forests
The lakes and hills and mountains.
Today they're thriving
Well surviving
But what will it be like in 2050?
I see an image
Similar to today's.
Green everything
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Snowfall
The snow comes down in big flakes
Wet, but puffy
Pleasing and cold
Landing on my nose
My cheeks
My eyelashes.
It is officially winter.
The giddiness that comes with the first snowfall
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Dreaming
Dreaming
Like floating
In the impossible abyss of unknown.
Subconscious
Becomes conscious
Becomes something
Not quite reality
Not quite not reality.
Dreams are an in between
Loves
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Unique
I am unique
I have hearing loss
I feel as if it is harder for me to fit in
I feel as if I am a puzzle piece that can’t fit
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Why I hate school :)
I have this teacher...
This teacher is rude and sexist
They get mad if you don't know the answer to something that they haven't explained yet...
They never get mad at certain students, they have favorites...
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Remembrance
Cracked pavement tells the story that time refuses to forget.
And while tree roots weave their way underneath the ashen pavement,
Time is dripping away from me.
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A Palmful of Metaphors
I’d like a palmful of metaphors,
Ones to use every time
I put a pen to a page,
To plant in my heart
And become submerged in my hope,
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I Didn't Know It Then
I thought I liked the way you held your head,
it was casual and sincere,
not unlike the way you smiled.
But this was different from your smile… -
Diverging Strings
Blissful children.
Young,
Naïve.
Dreaming, of who we wake up to be
Dancing with starlight in our hands
Elemelons to the end
But wishes cannot last for long