Posts
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Your poem
We each stood at the front of the classroom in turn,
voices stumbling over the words of the poem
we were forced to recite,
hands twisting, feet tapping,
excited to be back at our desks, where we were
alone
unnoticed
safe. -
a normal day
Dark purple creeps into the black of night
when I first pry my sleep-filled eyes open
wishing I could remain within my warm cocoon of blankets
one second longer.
My head pounding with fatigue,
I arise -
Blue Eyes Chapter 2
Note: This is the second chapter of my novel Blue Eyes. You can find the first chapter here:https://youngwritersproject.org/node/46146
PHIE -
Random Thoughts II
I wonder what I'm going to write here, what it'll turn into. It's strange just writing from my mind but I seem to be doing it. It's so dark outside now, and it gets dark so early. I still miss summer. I miss camp and everyone from there. -
midsummer light
we were wearing flannels even in the heat of summer
the sun baking on our backs but we didn't care
as long as we were together
white converse--
mine high tops
yours not--
next to each other
fingers entertwined. -
Autumn in New England
crisp morning air
as i wait for the bus
shivering under layers of fleece
first frost on grass.
trees whizzing by
in their brilliant
orange yellow green
a canopy of bright colors
waving in the wind.
apple pies
Loves
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remember when it was winter? (soon we will remember spring rains)
it is raining right now but all me and my best friends can think about // is that tantalizing glimpse of // lemonade & too-hot days & all the rage & shorts & laughter // & late nights we can see on the slowly dipping horizon pi
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Towards the Sun
People see me run
towards the sun
but they don't see
what I’m running from.
I chase one high after another,
picking up the pace to outpace the monster
but when dusk comes
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They knew what could be
The little girl sat in her swing
blond curls the way they are before
you grow up the everywhere I don't care
it looks like my hair was woven from sunlight
a throne for a flower crown.
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That One Summer Night (that was forever once)
It wasn't hot for once. Ohio remains hot every summer but the night seems to be like cold water poured over a fire pit:
the heat lightens up but the smoke of it hangs in the air, the remnants of what it was before.
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Come and See
Your God is not my God. Stay with me now, I know this makes your hackles rise, your hands raised in the spiteful fear that you could be challenged. The fear of fraud.
