Dec 05
poem 2 comments challenge: Trees
laurenwwright's picture

The caregiver

The oak tree stands tall in the distance,
while children use it as a barrier in their nerf 
gun war. The branches lift, like the smiles
on the young boys faces. 

Between the swaying vines of leaves 
hanging from the weeping tree; her knees 
sit hugged to her chest. The vines descend
closing around her, like a shield. 

Fir trees stand tall as the snow illuminates 
the ground. Trying to attract the young couple
in search of the perfect tree to bring home for
their daughter's first Christmas. 

The maple tree stands isolated in a field.
The leaves fall like tears, and pile below. 
Blue tubes wrap around the base, drawing 
sap from inside. 

The oak, weeping, fir, and maple trees
line the towns. Looking over the little girls 
grasping their mother's hand. The dog
pulling a man behind him. The couple
walking the sidewalks with hot chocolate 
Nov 30
laurenwwright's picture

The Working Boy

The sunrise slides small feet into ragged boots.
Hat hooks sit empty as the door closes out
the daylight that lit up the room as it opened.
Once white trousers slide over bicycle seats,
while calloused hands grip the medal handles,
and the wheels start to motion the million
rotations it will take on over the next 12 hours.

As he passes the spinning mill, he waves to his
friends inside. They stand on the spinning frame,
adding a few more feet to their height, where they
can mend the empty threads and replace the empty
bobbins. Missing a close friend who used to stand
next to them; now sitting at home. As his foot is mashed
from a piece of machinery, pushing him to fall, where
his small hand falls into unprotected gearing, removing
two fingers. His almost fully grown ears now filled day
after day with disappointing words about not being able
to work from his mother and aunt.
Nov 16
poem 2 comments challenge: Cooking
laurenwwright's picture

Gingerbread tradition

As the snow starts to lay like a blanket on the ground,
the lights intertwine with garland, wrapping
almost all the way around the deck;
leaving the back corner bare, the way it used to be.
The snowman sits by the front door that never gets used.
While the sleigh sits in front of the bay window of the living room. 
Being led down the small hill, by eight reindeer.
Rudolph’s cherry nose still as bright as when we found him.
You can still see the shimmer from the ornaments
on the snowy covered fake tree in the front corner of the living room,
the same place it’s always been. And occasionally,
four little girls from six years ago, sitting around the tree
in matching pajamas. With smiles seeming impossible to fade.

Now, through the window, you can still see those four girls.
At the kitchen table in the same aprons.
Flour covers the floor like the snow, pans pile up in the sink,
Nov 09
laurenwwright's picture

Frog and Toad’s birthday bash

Frog walks to the left of Toad. They’re 20 years old with a 19-year-old friendship. Frog lived two lilypads down from Toad growing up, inevitably, they spent a great amount of time together, growing a strong friendship. Today is Toads birthday. She is now 20 years old. Frog decided to take her on a shopping spree and then to lunch. Which are toads two favorite hobbies; shopping and eating.They wander down to the mall with their dresses, heels, and lipstick on. When they arrive, the first store Toad wants to go to is “Frog 21,” as she would love a new dress to add to her wardrobe. The two friends go from shop to shop, and of course stop at the photo booth before they make their way to lunch. After lunch they go back to Frog’s. They watch a movie and eat fly fishing fudge ice cream. Reminiscing on the last 18 birthdays they’ve celebrated together.
 
Nov 02
laurenwwright's picture

Friendship

Friendship,
Whispers words of love through the sadness at 3 a.m.
The shoulder that fits like a pillow.
The late night hushed giggles;
When you should be asleep.
The hand that grasps tightly through scary movies.
And, the voice that still sings Hannah Montana
Around your room with a hairbrush.
The matchmaking, and tissue.
The gossip beneath the covers with
The faint light of a flashlight.
Being grounded from each other,
But planning your whole week together,
For when you’re ungrounded.
The co-planned birthday parties;
And co-parented pets.
Friendship; human diary.
Home away from home.
First love.
 
Oct 23
laurenwwright's picture

People Watching

She sits alone on a faded wooden bench afar from the green. Watching the people all around her in the same place but, all in a different moment, mood, and world. She watches a little girl cling to her mother, full of love, yet to be touched by the world. Her mother wraps her in security to keep the sparkle in her vivid eyes. She watches a middle aged man teasing his dog, making him jump, and run to find a toy that was never thrown. The man laughs while the dog climbs up to him, tongue hanging long from his mouth. In the distance a young couple walks silently with tension between them. A squirrel watches from the base of a tree, sprinting up to the branches when two little kids run by laughing, trying to catch one another. She watches teenage boys wrestle in the grass, while girls hover above giggling, telling them to stop but knowing it won’t result in much.
Oct 18
laurenwwright's picture

Winter Wonderland

Winter; bitterly cold and dark, yet the greatest warmth and brilliance.
White luminescence shines through every window pane, touching the skin and leaving it fare.
Piles of snow shine, leaving a sparkle in your bright eyes.
Dark hair descends against plush sweaters; while warm arms wrap themselves around.
Golden gleams through the houses reflect that of the crackling fire.
And the abundance of pine and cinnamon fill every void.
Laughter flows out of featherly pink lips; and warmth pervades the heart.

Outside through black and white; icicles hang
and snow dusts the dark trees.
Rosy cheeks, crisp nose and frosty eyes,
are the only sight on children sliding down hills between angels and snowmen.
Hot chocolate waits on maple counters to warm small hands.
Cookies grow in ovens; and peppermint cools the mouth.
Hopeless romantics settle into the couch with hot chocolate,
Oct 12
laurenwwright's picture

Autumn

As the leaves start to color the trees,
her hair falls long with rays of burnt orange, golden yellow, and bright red.
The crisp air blows across her face,
changing her sunkissed to fair. 
Leaving the apples of her cheeks blush, and tip of her nose rosy. 
Her light brown freckles covering her nose,
upper cheeks, and polka-dotted on her forehead;
turn burnt orange, reflecting the golden sparkle
in her emerald eyes. 

Her plump soft pink lips, set warm on her ashy face.
Like stepping into a warm house,
with smells of vanilla and cinnamon,
while the fire cracks in the background. 
The fingertips of her pale hands,
turn light red as she catches a falling leaf 
in her palms. 

He stands in awe as he looks at her
through the breach in the trees.
He steps through the breach and calls out, "What's your name?" 
Her glossy eyes meet his through the crisp wind, 
"Autumn."
 
Sep 28
laurenwwright's picture

Wildflower

She stands 5 feet 8 inches high, on her soft pink feet, in front of the large window, watching the sun rise into the crisp air. Her hair falls just a few inches past her wide, broad shoulders. The sun peaks over the trees, a sliver of lights peers through the window, enhancing a strand of caramel blonde, making it appear almost glowing, reflecting her feeling in this moment of simplicity and peace. She enjoys the little things that make life beautiful, like sunrises and sounds of morning. As the sun becomes completly visable over the trees, a smile spreads wide across her soft face. Dimples set deep into her lower cheeks. Her warm freckled cheeks raise, making her eyes small. Where all you can see is the glow of her blue eyes peaking out the small breach, like the waves of the clearest ocean rolling over the sand. In this moment she stands taller then usual. Filled with simplicity, beauty, and peace. Like she hasn't been touched by the world. Like she doesn't know the word stress.
Sep 21
laurenwwright's picture

April 30th

I sit on the faded woden dock reaching over Mascoma lake, I feel my cheeks getting flushed as the late April wind blows across the water. As the deep orange sets behind the trees, and a shade of blue violet sets in, I start to replay this day from ten years ago. I fix my eyes in the distance and it all comes back. It was the end of April when we got the call. I was sitting on the couch waiting for the school bus. The phone rang, my father was in the living room holding my sleeping newborn sister. My mom answered the phone. I couldn't tell what was going on or the tone of the conversation. My mom's face changed, drained of color. I sat on the couch with my backpack, shoes, and rain coat on. My father was repeatedly telling me to get my feet off the couch. Oblivious to what was coming. She looked at my father, as she mumbled into the phone. There was a weird vibe in the house now. Everything seemed normal, whatever complication that was going on was just a typical day to day dilemma.