magnolia leaves

mittens

Like she was wearing mittens on a blazing summer day,
She carried things unwritten to a special hidden place.
Sitting in the lovely shade of weeping willow trees,
Sweaty palms and secrets pealed away to feel the breeze.

The wool will come unraveled, as she ponders all alone
The places she has traveled, never one to call her home.
But here she finds a solace, in the willow's sweet embrace-
Her own perfect oasis, where her hands are full of grace.


*Update* 3/11/15: This poem won an Excellent rating in the ACSI Creative Writing Festival!

dragonfly wings

Dipping my paddle into the shallow water,
My kayak scrapes against a rocky bottom.
I push away from shore,
And into the wide river.

Sunlight sparkles on the water
That dragonflies rest their noisy wings to kiss.
Hues of green and brown and blue are separated
As my boat cuts a trail through the smooth surface.

My arms feel strong and capable
As they soak in the warmth of the afternoon sun.
Masterfully, my paddle carves the water,
Gently turns to guide my path.

The faint scent of seaweed,
And the moisture on my skin
Make me feel at home
As I glide through the river.

I reach a place where the current is still
And rest my arms;
Dip my hands into the cool, refreshing water
That drips from my paddle.

I watch how the ripples grow and disappear
When the dragonflies swoop down and gently touch
The river that holds so much light and life;
Holding me up now, suspended above the ground.

I float freely and with ease
In the center of the river.
At home, alone in my little kayak,
Surrounded by nature's peace.

yellow heart

Yellow...

What a strange color for a heart.


Everyone says it is

Bold and cheerful...


Happy.




Bright yellow sunshine

Casts a radiant light.


Bright yellow sunflowers

In a charming garden.




Yellow.


What I see is

Nostalgic and lonely...


Sad.




Fading yellow wallpaper

In an empty room.


Tiny yellow flowers

In a lonely field.




Yellow


Holds pain and beauty.

Sharp angles and soft,


A paradox.




Somewhere between blue and red;

Warm and also cold.


Somewhere between happy and sad;

Young and also old.




Dazzling and desolate,

The yellow heart.

surfaces

"The heart of man is very much like the sea, it has its storms, it has its tides and in its depths it has its pearls too." ~Van Gogh

"There are no beautiful surfaces without a terrible depth." ~Friedrich Nietzsche

the collision

I need imagination like I need oxygen. It is the spark of passion inside me that keeps me moving, most alive in the collision of the real world and a dream.

My imagination comes to life when I listen to music, and when the music spills out my fingers, synchronized with my breath into the flute. The notes on the page are footsteps, leading me to a different place through the shapes and colors and movements of sound.

My imagination comes to life when I read a book, twenty-six letters arranged and rearranged to tell a million different stories. Underneath the covers I wrap myself in a new perspective, trapped between the sheets. Imagination weaves together a fabric of ideas using letters and words and sentences to form paragraphs and chapters and eventually a library of infinite potential.

My imagination comes to life when I spend time in nature, as the sky stretches on without limit and the trees wrap me in their embrace. Layered leaves pattern the ground with their shadows as sunlight breaks through the deciduous dome. I look at the endless sky and towering trees and see that the world is so much bigger than me, so full with dreams.

My imagination comes to life when I am doing the things that I love. It takes me to the places where I long to be and enhances the places where I am. It shows me that everything is so much bigger than my perception of it. There are so many places to see, ideas to explore, and dreams to dream. I know that I am alive because my imagination is, and it won't let me give up. Where possibilities are endless, so is hope.

i wonder if

I wonder if you ever heard the birds
Sing softly through your window as you slept.
I wonder if you ever heard the words
Pierced silently my soul whene'er I wept.

I thought that if you'd ever seen the sun,
You'd notice that my world had turned to gray.
I thought that when the world around me spun,
You'd have some light to turn my night to day.

I wonder if you ever saw the stars
Gleam brilliantly across a raven sky.
I wonder if you ever saw my scars;
I wonder if you knew the reason why.

I hope for beauty in all that you see-
I hope that maybe one day you'll see me.