Posts
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Lake House
I am from early mornings and late nights
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The Tree & The Wormlet
The soil gently shifted around the straw thin roots of the sprouting pine. Up, down, left, right, as a wormlet wiggled by. But as they passed, their tough roots, their fragile skin brushed against each other, like a brush stroke on a canvas.
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Fall Contest: Congratulations!
From the beautiful and overflowing cornucopia of submissions to YWP's Fall Contest, and after much discussion and debate, our judges settled on one Gold award winner in each of the two categories of writing and visual art ($100 prizes), three Silv
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Loves
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What Our World Could Be
In a chaotic world
of eight billion people,
each hidden away
in their own
separate lives,
be remembered for
being the person
who brings others joy,
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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 Breathed the World Through Poetry
And it tucked wildflowers
Between the pages,
Petals and pollen spiralled
Like constellations,
Still whispering of the breeze
And of the shooting stars;
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This is our last sentence
This is my last sentence: We all belong here.
This is her last sentence: We all are loved.
This is his last sentence: We are a community.
This is their last sentence: Good will conquer evil.
