Nov 18

A Falling Snowflake

It falls from above me
Slowly, carefully.
Each little line different from the rest.
It drops right towards me
And lands on my nose.
I suppress a giggle
As the cool snowflake
Melts into my skin.
As they fall
I become more conscious of
Where each snowflake lands
Chilling my face to an icicle.
I smile up at the sky
Wishing for a second that
I was that snowflake falling
Into winter.
Nov 17

Ink and Paper

The ink from my pen spilled
Making the sheet of paper filled with black clouds.
There is no ink left so
I guess I will just have to tell you in words.
Mouth open, ready to speak,
Nothing comes out,
Only the fog from my breath.
It hangs there frozen,
The words just sit there,
In my mind of course.
I fiddle with my pen
Then try again.
Pen hits paper,
The ink streaming out like rivers.
Writing better then any words spoken.
Each letter strung together creating a story
One that I would read over and over again.
Thanks to ink and paper.

Nov 17

White Rose

She stands at the edge of a cliff,
With a white rose in hand.
The wind whips through the grass
And tangles the girl’s jet black hair.
Behind her a wall of wind comes and
Pushes her off the side,
The wind’s breath howls in her ears.
Still gripping the white rose, the tempest turns  
And the girl rises up,
Her dress flapping wildly in the air.
She grabs hold of the wind and rights herself,
Her sharp sapphire eyes taking in her surroundings.
The ocean’s waves hit the side of the cliff
Spraying her with mist.
Using the wind she falls back onto the solid cliff
In a crouch, hair covering her face,
With a white rose in hand.

Nov 16


She looks back hoping to see the person she wishes for,
But she only sees the slush on the sidewalk.
The city lights kept her awake
And that’s what she needs.
The cold starts to seep in down her neck,
But she just kept her face to ground and walked forward.
No matter how much she tried she could not walk away,
She felt like she was getting smaller
Only covering a foot an hour.
The smells from the restaurants that usually smelled good
Now made her nauseous,
With to many memories.
Taking a right down a crowded street is an attempt to shush her thoughts,
But they come right back.
She looks behind one more time, letting the hope grow into her heart.

Nov 16

One Black Feather

The wings stretch out wide
Gliding in and out of the clouds,
Moving the mist into different shapes.
The onlookers wonder up at the bird,
Not knowing what is so captivating.
The celestial sphere holds the bird to earth,
Until after ink is thrown onto the sky, changing it into night.
The bird flies
Waiting for its chance to be free,
The one chance to be uncaged
The one moment, one place in time.
Seeing the chance, the bird flies into inky black sky.
Leaving nothing but one black feather to flutter to the ground,
And lay in a field for all of eternity.
Nov 16

Dancing the Painting

The fluid movements grace her arms and legs
Dancing to a rhythm that you can not hear.
The dancer paints an intricate picture,
Only she is the brush twirling through
The streets of the city,
And the fields of the country
Her long silk dress flying behind her.
The rain hits the dancer, bouncing off her skin
But it does not push her down.
With the wind on her side
The dancer was able to soar through the air
And land with a level of elegance that no one could ever reach.
Her arm moves effortlessly through the air
Only listening to the music inside her head.
Half completing the painting that can not be finished.

Nov 14

Shards of Glass

They fell apart piece by piece
Hitting the ground and snapping in half again.
The sharp edges will cut through anyone’s flesh
Leaving the blood to run free.
Looking into the shards, I see my reflection and see
Someone I don’t recognize,
Same hair, same face,
But I know it’s not me.
The glass keeps on falling
Leaving it up to myself to dodge them.
The tears roll down my face and
Lands onto the glass then turns it into liquid.
Falling to my knees I beg for it to stop,
The only answer I get is one shard of glass,
Peering in to it I see not my reflection,
Instead I see the portal into reality.
Turning back I now see that there was no glass,
Only the illusions that my mind makes.

Nov 11


The tears start the journey down the side of her face
Like rivers down the side of a mountain.
Her tears fall fast some landing on her soft lips
Giving her the fresh taste of saltiness.
When she blinks new tears will come
Dampening the world.
They fall down her cheek and curve around her chin then pausing,
Everything becomes still.
Then the first drop falls hitting a blade of grass,
Creating beads of water on her dress
She tries to stop the tears but her eyes have turned into storm clouds.
The tears continue to fall, as she cries the rain down onto the world.

Nov 08

The Crow's Field

The golden yellow field is now up in flames
Licking at the crows jet black feathers.
It squawks for its life flying upwards .
Towards the only hope
The sky.
Sparks drift off
Permanently staining its pristine feathers.
Every single crow is now flying high
Turning the blue to black.
The noise is unbearably loud
Causing even the trees to cover their ears.
The wind pushes the fire higher
Turning the unrecognisable field into a sea of flames.
The crows, now a safe distance away
Morn at the sight of the field.
Off in the distance you can see
Who or what lit the field a flame
Running away in laughter over this horrific sight.
Nov 07


The fall was long
I just kept on falling.
The wind would press up against me
Giving me the feeling that I was going up not down,
But only sometimes.
The world around me was turned into blurred lines
As I fall
A never ending fall.
I don’t remember when I started
Or when I will stop
So I am stuck in this endless gaze
Of falling.
I am no longer scared
I’ve done this for so long
So cross my arms and lean back
And try to enjoy this fall
But it's all to late
I hit the bottom with a thud
And now sit cross legged in the pink endless clouds
Of the sky.