In Their Clutches

Eyes cold as ice,
fur a frosty white.
Polared, cold and snowy
fate rolls the dice.

Wind ferociously slashing
at a heart already torn,
wolverines stare, awaiting,
the storm,
to be reborn
 
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Whitney

VT

17 years old

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  • Poetry

    By Whitney

    Awaiting An Invitation

    Tree limbs dance in
    the breeze of baited breath,
    roots threaten to break ground zero.
    time;
    too much
    too little
    only the trees understand 
    me

    glass stregthens
    mirrors melt
    clouds converge and darkness reigns

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  • By Whitney

    Sentenced

    I am guilty

    The bars which restrain me
    are but my own fault

    I am guilty

    The lifeless walls
    frozen, unfeeling
    yield no give as I fight to break free

    My crimes:
    To want,
    the stars 

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  • By Whitney

    Only A Memory

    The wind
    brushes my cheek, with a kiss. 
    Neck craned, my eyes
    skim the sky in bliss

    The scene before me,
    a canvas to interpret,
    I stare, deep within the soul of each star
    this game I refuse to forfeit.

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