Posts
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My Oak Tree, My Hope
Nestled within the plains of the Midwest,
Isolated and alone,
Stands a wholesome oak tree.
Her dark, chestnut body hemmed in by the mucky acorns,
Those of which were shed out of sorrow.
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A tribute to the observer.
Although I’d likely consider myself shy and coy,
Occasionally withdrawn from the crowd,
There are many facets of an observer.
For one,The ultimate observer can detect feigned emotion,
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I believe in art.
though honorable and necessary,
i fail to recognize the emotion and fervor within technology and maths.
of course, it is possible one feels emotional and passionate for those pursuits,
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Modern technology
i remain seated in my simple pink chair. my fingers probe at the keyboard of this computer, and i begin to type freely.
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seventeen
today i am sixteen,
but in five days i turn seventeen
i lie on the bridge between my childhood,
and the promising future ahead of me.
as i held dearly onto my most beloved stuffed animal,
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lonesome
in the dark corner of a lunchroom, she sits
with an indigo binder clutched to her chest
a seldom frown threatens across her lips.
she hears the old thrum of the voices around her,
Loves
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What Is Home?
Home. We’re home. I didn’t need to open my eyes. I knew we were home. I knew we were getting close. I had memorized the roads leading from the highway back to the house nestled in the little neighborhood I called home.
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Generation Undecided
Maybe we're the ones
who grew up on our iPads then
our phones,
the ones who teach our teachers
how to use their screens
the ones
who know each other's lives through filters
and think we know each other
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Haiku
I see stars
shining in the night sky
and a soul.
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The Library
I took a walk inside the library today,
and I noticed everything.
Two older women exchanging hellos,
kids under piles of toys,
and parents taking a breath.
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