Feb 08
poem 0 comments challenge: Lost
laurenwwright's picture

Mind Vault

I'm brought to my feet, and my eyes open slowly. 
Cloudy gray stares staraight at me, while a muskier 
version follows behind. My skin is fare and 
flushed. My mind clear, like I was just born in
a full grown body. 

I walk forward and reach out, but I'm stopped by a
translucent wall stretching up and surrounding me. 
I walk the perimeter, exploring the wall. All I can see is 
gray progressing to darker shades from where I stand. 
I stare at my reflection in front of me, behind me there's 
a million more, the once translucent wall now covered
in reflections I've never seen before. 

 
Feb 07
essay 0 comments challenge: Decide
laurenwwright's picture

Last 5 minutes

8:55.
Dog; A domesticated carnivorous mammal that typically has a long snout, an acute sense of smell, non-retractable claws, and a barking, howling, or whining voice. ​I've wanted a dog all my life. A lifetime best friend, with a limited presence. 8:56. Four legs running to the mailbox after hearing the sound of tires rolling over the gravel. Climbing into the car in your best clothes and seeing hair stuck to the side of your calf. 8:57. Rambunctious barking while tip toeing around the house in the quiet of the night. 8:58. Standing face to face with my childhood dreams, nothing but a centimeter of glass separating the air between us, 8:59 stands in bold white letters on my phone screen. I turn and start to walk away, light taps mixed with scratches ring through my ears, I turn around to see glossy brown eyes looking at me through little caramel and black hairs, with small paws stuck to the window on both sides of the foggy glass. 9:00.
 
Feb 01
humor 0 comments challenge: Luck
laurenwwright's picture

Unlucky

The alarm strikes obnoxiously at 4:45 a.m. 
I slam the top of it and it falls to the ground. 
I open my eyes to the sun shining through them. 
Clock reads; 8:56. AWESOME. Late. 
I sprint to the shower, now deprived of hot water.
Now fully awake and covered in frostbite, I grab my 
stuff, get dressed, and drive to school. 

The space between the gas needle and E
could not be a more accurate depiction of my 
patience left after this hour into the day. 
I arrive at school at 10:23, greeted with a nice yellow
paper reserving my time for 45 minutes after school. 
"Test tomorrow!" my math teacher projects as I open the door, 
and the bell rings and my whole class floods out. 

I get to lunch, and realize I forgot my lunch box on the 
counter. So I sit there, starved, uneducated, and a mess. 
 

 
Jan 17
poem 1 comment challenge: Memory
laurenwwright's picture

The little Blonde Boy.

It was a sunny afternoon in the thick brick building 
of Outtoquechee Elementary School, that sat tall 
and sturdy between the surrounding swaying green trees.
I stood by, what then seemed to be the big blue sandpit in
the middle of the preschool room. 
The wooden houses and babydolls behind me, the 
white board covered in magnetic shapes, numbers,
and letters, to my left. The coat rack and small cubbies
in front of me, and art supplies to my left.  

I stood there with a couple other kids, but stayed to myself.
I picked the sand up and felt it slide through the slips
of my small hands. A little boy with chubby blush cheeks
and short dirty blonde hair falling an inch above his eyebrows,
came over to the spot next to me, smiling. 
Becoming my best friend for the next three years, 
before I moved away. 
 

 
Jan 10
laurenwwright's picture

A Voice in the Night

I lie, half asleep on the chocolate brown couch,
Hearing nothing but the small breaths escaping from
the pink crib across the room.
I let my eyes fall heavy and drift off into sleep.

Shortly after, I find my body jerk up right on the couch,
my ears searching for a sound, like a dog.
I peek through the windows, scanning the property.
I hear faint cries between the rings,
and dart towards the crib to find nothing but a folded pink blanket.

I search for my phone,
but can’t seem to remember where I had placed it.
I follow the faint cries, leading upstairs,
when I turn the corner I see her face,
with her eyes squeezed tight and her mouth wide.
Within a second she’s gone.
The walls are gone, the stairs are gone,
the noise is gone, everything is gone.
I wake in the crisp of the morning sun,
on the chocolate brown couch.
I look across the room and see a small face
Dec 17
poem 2 comments challenge: Snow
laurenwwright's picture

Crisp of Winter

The snow lays heavily on cars
and wraps around tires.
It pulls down wires, and shuts off the
power. Silhouettes of families huddled
on the couch under blankets, casts on
the far wall.

Parents take stressful trips to the mall;
and run their wallets dry. Tip toeing through
the house on Christmas Eve to keep the
secret of Santa alive.

Hot chocolate pours into reindeer mugs,
to warm little hands that frostbite hugs.
Vanilla and cinnamon swirl through the air
and seep into the walls. I swear you can
almost smell it all year long.
 
Dec 13
poem 0 comments challenge: Power
laurenwwright's picture

7 Billion Wishes

Kindergarteners sit in class and
imagine running through the trees
pretending to be Spiderman. 
while his friend chases him,
his arms wide as he grunts like Hulk. 
They point lasers only visible in their 
eyes, and ride imaginary spaceships. 

Sophomores wish they could create world
peace after being exposed to the many troubles 
in the world. While seniors stare at the 
calendar and try to fast forward to 
graduation day. 

7 billion people in the world wishing for the
same things. Despite their gender, race, or
culture. There's no self power to hold onto
yourself that someone else going through 
the same experiences, hasn't imagined as well. 


 
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,

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