You say

You want to spend the rest of your life with me

But I know your eyes don't wander to the edge of town

Not like mine do

I know your heart doesn't ache for the ocean

To crest each wave like a new day, breaking 

I know you haven't the slightest idea of the contentment

Having rough wind blow through your hair 

I know you don't have any desire to leave this small world

Of familiar faces, you never will

You say

You want to spend the rest if your life with me 

And I smile, squeezing cords in the palm of my hand

Smiling and squeezing the cords until they break.

Currently debating whether or not it would be weird to dedicate this to peppermint. :/

~~~~~

The waters coalesce,

Dew gathering on a leaf

Liquid bunching together in a metallic orb 

Before slipping away---plunging

It sizzles before it can splatter, as I am near. 

Where I step the grass blanches, withers and smokes

Thin white smoke that blackens and becomes thicker as it rises

And gathers around my head 

A garland of destruction and waste

Ash and sand slip through my fingers, time passing

With the stench of the death and disease not far behind.

But I cannot stop walking,

I am drawn to travel

As a moth is drawn to a flame, both flickering.

My feet are magnetised by an invisible tide,

Pushed and pulled towards the ground on their own

My destination ever unknown.

But one day I saw you,

Walking among the fields

Flowers blooming beneath your feet

You breathe colour into being,

Spin loose words into tight poem-fabric;

It is not perfect, but it is beautiful.

It is vibrance and life you bring

Although not without a tinge of quiet sadness.

No, not sadness,

Just the knowledge that all things come to an end

The forests you traverse will one day blister and wilt 

The waters you purify will soon return to marshy grime

The skies you float in will some day fill with strife and storm. 

It seems to me acceptance, a quiet wisdom

Something beautiful and delicate and hopeful.

All I can do to preserve your works for just a moment more

To let them shine as they deserve

I must assure our paths do not cross, carefully dance

About your wake

But oh, is it difficult not to tread the beautiful path you do

It is tempting, my feet ache, gravitating towards it

But I know my path would be but a pale imitation

And dilution of yours.

so I’m running down the black mat and

I’m not counting my steps because

I don’t have the rhythm for that and

I’m terrible at pole vaulting anyway and 

when I launch myself into the air

I picture pointing my toes towards the sky and

arching over the bar and

flinging my arms up and

twisting myself into a

gentle landing on my feet and

it’s almost funny when

I manage to both knock down the bar and

land right on top of it and

now there are bruises starting to

spread across my back like

a spilled bottle of ink and

there is blush painted on my cheeks with

the messy strokes of a finger painting toddler

and the only thing to do is

to accept the failure and

laugh it off

except the problem is

that I always do that and

it’s not working anymore and

I think a part of you always knew that and

I think that’s why you would sit beside me and

pretend to be the meet announcer and

make stupid statements until

I didn’t feel quite so horrible anymore and

I think that’s why I let you and

I think that’s why I left you at the end of day and

I don’t regret that choice because

you were always too nice for me but

at the end of the day

I always cause more damage than I intend and

I’m sorry that I had to

knock down the bar and land on it and

I’m sorry that there are bruises beneath your chest and

I’m sorry that there is blush staining your cheeks and

I’m so sorry that I keep trying to laugh it off because

I know it’s not funny but

I don’t remember how to be sad anymore.

Partly inspired by Moonwolf's poem in the most recent round of the poetry contest.

~~~~~

One day / child you will fold sunshine

You will be able to bend / mould the stars

Into a softer / warmer light

A light that shines / covers us all / consumes us

You will battle night herself / dark serenade that she is

Woo her / befriend her / or vanquish her kingdom 

You will fashion pulleys out of moonlight / levers out of the breeze

To lift your people out of the valley

And into the light you’ve woven across the sky.

What Wildflowers Are For

The tears that have not yet fallen

For those that have been forgotten…

The memory has faded away like

An old photo that was made for

People to remember, yet no one does…

It is what the wildflowers grow for

When there is no one to bring any

Fresh cut roses every year…

The wildflowers remember them.

They are never forgotten through

Each fresh petal, a different aspect

And as wildflowers succumb

To the harsh frost of winter,

New ones will grow in the spring,

And the wildflowers continue

To remember the forgotten.

@Rick Rioridan fans, remember in the 1st book of Trials of Apollo, how Lester said he'd write an poem, and ode, to the the wonderful bacon? Well, I took it upon myself to write it ;D Enjoy!

Bacon is Good~ an ode to bacon, ambrosia of the mortals

Bacon is good

It is delicious

Crispy and crunchy and

Slightly nutritious! 

It sizzles and splatters

Alarming amounts of grease

Omitting a smell so yummy

You don't want it to cease!

You'll eat it for breakfast

Then want it for lunch! 

For dinner! Every snack!

'Cause you love it a bunch!

Bacon is good

I'm statin' the facts

In every helping I gobble

At least 70 pacts!

Bacon Is Good~ Haiku version

Tell me, dear mortal

Have you heard, of the food that's

So very yummy?

It's greasy, crunchy

Meaty with fat, cooked to crisp

It sings on your tongue

If I had to choose

All the courses for a feast

Just bacon we'd eat! 

it's really terrible, but at least it got through my writer's block lol

I saw fireflies for the first time a few weeks ago and

they were so much tinier than I’d imagined,

like a single

clap

might extinguish one and

the night would become a cloying veil of shadows without

their little pinpricks of light, and so I watched and

I wondered if it was perhaps a mirror of hope in the of darkest times, the

fragility of happiness caught

in tiny wings,

winking out then blinking back into sight, and

I remembered that you can wish on a caught lightning bug but

they looked so beautiful and free, and

after all

with such a precious collection of wishes, who

would want to waste one on

someone

like

me?