Jul 24
poem challenge: Writing 2022

Here and Now

I see the sky
The puffy clouds of rounded layers and layers of white
And a bit of gray that at first took the shape of a
Running goat before slowly sliding into a classic throne
And a crown that tops the sky before my own eyes

I hear the wind
Rustling through each and every curved green leaf
That the sun translucently sparkles through and
The soft breeze whispers in its own tongue to the
Grass and the clouds and its fellow gales and the earth

I feel the grass
Soft with hints of tickles and prickles that
Make me giggle caressing my bones and the
Wind itself washing over me like ocean waves except
I can breathe instead and finally live

I smell the forest
Surrounding my grove of peace and the soft
Scents that the breeze kindly carries my way
With tender fingers of wind it places upon me the
Delicate smell of pine and cedar and rose

I taste the air
Jul 21
poem challenge: Writing 2022

Watching The World Go By

We popped open the trunk and inhaled
The classic dank smell of the old car
We sat on its edge and grinned and pointed
Like they all do in the movies
We awaited the brewing storm
Already wet from the sprinkles
We winked at the clear night sky
And counted constellations
We listened to the rumble of the thunder
Rattling and preparing to rage
We waited for the lightning
And the heavier slashes of downpour
We wiled away hours in laughs
Winding through our young imaginations
We sat here and smiled and leaned on
One another's shoulders
We we just here just us no phones
Or this or that and the storm never came
We were content and in fact
The happiest we had been in a while
We sat here with no expectations
Just watching the world go by.
Jul 20

Characters

I love to write (obviously) and I am currently writing a sort of dystopian novel, and I have been looking for a program to design my characters photorealistically for a years. I finally found one, and these are some of my latest designs! In order of the screenshots, Solene, Ashara, Aris, Callix, and Castries are shown here. My computer is slighty glitchy, though, so I apologize that some of the screenshots are in pretty low resolution. Enjoy!
Jul 18
poem challenge: Writing 2022

Second Chance

Nestled in forest
Find our treehouse
Spring freshly awoke
Newborn flowers woven
Into the vines of the wreath
Whereby sat a little plump nest
Whereby sat four plump blue eggs
With tender hands we moved the wreath
To the side where they hatched and grew alike

And after one long night in the moist spring air
Crispy waffles and steaming hot chocolate
Perched merrily on the windowside table
Discreetly we dropped a few crumbs
Of waffles upon the feathered abyss
Two hefty gulps of lukewarm cocoa
Followed in suit on the robins
Later I found from my father
That the mother may
Abandon them

Due to their
Foreign scent
At the next dawn
Sun soaring so high
Four little birds set out
To fly although as I trekked
Through the winding path and
Came across their clumpy nest
I thought they'd all been abandoned
Of course I thought it was all my fault
Jul 17
poem challenge: Change

Wish

When the puffy dandelion is at its ripest, I pluck it from the grass.
But I rarely make a wish, because
what if my wish was wrong?
There are so many things I wish, that even if each fleck of white could represent one
it wouldn't be enough. Although I haven't counted.
I wish for myself, for my relationships, all my own selfish matters---
grades, strength, performance in this that
and the other thing.
I wish for the world in its entirety, all those black and white and female and male
everything in between that have suffered the injust.
I wish for the wars to fall to closure and for old white men to stop ruling the world.
I can't control these matters, no.
But I can wave around flags and drive some posters into the dirt of my front yard and
educate myself with the so-called boring documentaries and even educate
others.
I can't say a few words and convince the world to be perfectly peaceful, but I can
Jul 16
poem challenge: Writing 2022

Live Every Day

"May you live every day of your life"
-Jonathan Swift

The quote was embossed in fat gold letters on the flimsy scrap of cardboard that my bicycle necklace was latched to.

"May you live every day of your life?"
Well, that doesn't make sense.
I mean, it does, but why say it?
Like, of course you're gonna live every day of your life.
Except the day you die.
But you can't die every day.
Obviously.
So you live, every day.
What else is there to do?
May you live every day of your life.
Easy, check check.
It's impossible not to, anyway.

"May you live every day of your life?"
Yes, literally speaking, you do.
Theoretically speaking, do you?
Perhaps it means, live every day to it's fullest.
Don't let the days just pass by.
One by one.
Savor each day, and really live it.
Live it the most you really can.
Go on adventures to new places in the world.
Jul 16
poem challenge: Ferocity

Spilled Paint

The ominnous crack of the sky splitting in two
A leak of inky purple paint explodes
The harsh clap, and as an afterthought
A little rumble, a boom conveys the grumble
Of the brewing storm...
The brewing storm like a witch with an enchanted spatula
Stirring up a gurgling potion of crashing
Thunder---Thunder that ripples through the ether
Knocking down or building up
Merry sunny days for the better or for the
Worse, whether or not this weather
Is an opportunity to frolic and laugh
And splash in puddles
Or frown and weep and feel very down,
Its constant vibrations of crackling
Never seem to cease in there puffy
Haze of slishing and sloshing tears
Of the sky while its bangs and booms just test us
On whether we will unblinkingly,
Unfalteringly hold the realization,
The revelation
Jul 14
poem challenge: Writing 2022

Dreams

Dreams are hills of blue
frothing before crashing
and slipping away
beneath their descendants.
Last night there I saved
someone from drowning.
The night before I was caught
in a labyrinth with my enemy.
But only those broader
traces linger in the hollows
of my mind before today
and tomorrow obscure them.
They say dreams are rooted
from the third eye.
I picture a glassy blue iris
with silvery glints and long lashes
and branches stemming
from above. Roots stemming
from below.
Stars speckle the scene.
They say dreams are rooted
in the past.
What happened yesterday,
the subtle acquaintences
and happenings that quietly
sneak into dreams.
But the third eye reminds me
of a fortune teller in all its
glassy goodness and glory.
Perhaps dreams are a
hint, just a wink, of the future
or rather, what the future
has the potential
to be.
Jul 13
poem challenge: Writing 2022

community

with their woven black cardigans and horn-rimmed glasses
they say "let's build a kind and caring community."
with crooked grins of polished white. they say
"let's trust that always we will respect one-another"

but all that lingers in my mind beneath my
sunflower-printed dress to look pretty
for the first day of school is that sickly phrase
"community." a community of what? i inquire

"don't ask such questions"

silenced only because the inevitable answer
rattles through the air: a community of forced
kindess forced perfection and sickly sweet respect.

there's no subtle community building
because the teacher's eyes are swollen in blue below
and they just want it to all be alright like all of us but
they don't know how because nobody ever told them.
nobody ever demonstrated a real community.

so now they grasp onto this sickly hope and
Jul 12
poem challenge: Writing 2022

A Place Where Flowers Grow

Where the everlasting oak in alls its crooked glory
Adorned in a classic swing which bears memories
Of love and laughter beneath its frayed beauty
A place where flowers grow

Where the similar beauty rolling hills of vibrant green
Tickle the shy sprouts and blossoms
Unmowed strings of sage playing tag with the breeze
A place where flowers grow

Where the breeze sighs and whispers
Delicately dancing across each sprig of growth
Soft and lukewarm yet cool and refreshing
A place where flowers grow

Where the cool and refreshing stream
That so many fragile pebbles call home
From soft ripples to rushing rapids when the time is right
A place where flowers grow

Where when the time is right the sun will grow fatigued
Ducking behind the vast mountains and hills
A serene haze of purple orange pink yellow in its wake
A place where flowers grow

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