Sep 21
embermist's picture


Sometimes the rain doesn’t stop, despite thinking you can brave the last few kilometres. Sometimes it gets harder. Sometimes the sky decides that you have wronged it, and dumps merciless buckets of revenge on you from all sides. Today is one of those days. I wade barefooted through the flood, my expensive Converse clutched against my chest, leaking water down my raincoat with each step. It’s easier than wearing them. It’s hard to imagine, now, that trees possess colour, not when the overcast clouds reflect gloom on all that the rain touches. The only thing that stands out amidst the grey is my umbrella - a scarlet beacon of hope, but essentially useless in providing shelter from the rain - and my scarf, whipping violently to the side. I have no idea where I’m going. I can only hope I’m retracing my steps correctly back to civilization. A gust of wind throws me to the side, and out of reflex, I thrust my hands outward to stop my fall.
Sep 16
embermist's picture


Welcome to the fanfare of fall.
To the fire-sprung foliage that flutters onto ping-pong tables
And frustrated fighting over paddles.
Welcome to forgetting.

Welcome to wistful warmth.
Welcome to wood cabins and weaving branches,
Water reflecting here and now
A whispering world wills us away,
Away from wanderlust.

Welcome to scintillating sky,
To six AM stars, sunset streaks, spider-silk cosmos
searching for summer constellations
seeking solace from insomnia.

Welcome to pealing laughter
Loud laze of campfire (we love campfire!)
And after-dark tetherball
A leaning lullaby
liberating from life and its labours.

Welcome to melodramatic
Morse code and magic
Mastering the art of amusement 
Me, drooping eyelids while memories are being made

Welcome to hungry happiness
To hand games and hideaway
Sep 08
poem 0 comments challenge: Awkward
embermist's picture


two girls bond over a bookcase.

they stand and stare at it, not at each other, not saying anything.
silence rings in their ears, but both resist the urge of breaking it like the floorboards cannot.
the floorboards are not to be blamed, the weight-shifting of feet less so.
they are not looking at each other, but if they were, they'd see that the other girl is smiling at the absurdity of the situation.
the second girl caves to the pressure.
"So, we're supposed to talk to each other?"
she doesn't like how her voice sounds in front of this stranger.
the first girl nods mutely, refusing to give in.
older, outward people laugh and drink at a table.
the sounds travel up the stairs to the room with the bookcase.
"Let's go downstairs," no one suggests.
but they listen.