Poetry

She flies through the sun

Wings spiral beat bright blue sky 

Nothing stays the same 

Fourteen

Fourteen years ago

My life became automatically harder

Because of how I looked

Thirteen

Thirteen years ago

It was just a threat

Just a rumor

It’s not real

It’s not gonna happen

But what about when it’s not a threat

When it’s real

I’m not a painter 

But if I was 

I would paint masterpieces 

And tell a story within each frame 

I would create a piece of art 

sometimes i wish i could forget everyone i ever met

and lie down on my back in the ocean

only feel the noiseless miles between my toes

minnows kissing my skin

and nothing else

Time when the sun has brushed --

Only the crests of great waves,

A grey stillness approaches from the east --

Advancing gently.

Across the world we All prepare for nightfall,

I asked my friend

For a poem idea 

She said 

Write a poem about sewer rats

So this is my poem about rats

Squeak

Squeak

Scurrying through the city 

Is it really so hard to just be nice to people? 

Why is it us versus them? 

What makes "them" different? 

"Worse" 

We are all human, 

all trying to get through our day. 

Splish

Splash

In comes the arrival of mud season

Soaking into the ground

Helping the plants just barely beneath the Earth

Drip 

Drop

Precipitation sliding down the windows

Spring 

is more than a season

it lingers in what you feel,

see, taste, smell, hear.

Spring is a sensation, 

a quiet awakening

from the brutal sting 

of winter. 

As  a child

she would sit alone

always watching the others

playing the day away

while she never had the confidence

I wish I had known you when we were younger

With our sun-kissed cheeks and lopsided grins

When we were filled with joy and mindless wonder

At summer church camp singing off-tune hymns