 |
This picture is actually the picture of the tree I wrote about.
|
 |
Can you follow this thread of disappointment?
I must admit I weary of it.
Its continual uncoiling-whine deafens my ears
And rubs a fine burn on..
|
 |
There upon the dew-moist grass I sat. From flower to cloud, plant to sky I gazed. Not stopping to think. Until, light-jolly, floating across my path, ..
|
 |
Won't you allow me to be beautiful?
Won't you allow me to love what I am?
Must I be denied acceptance
in place of this mud painted image
splattere..
|
 |
This lovely flower holds double purpose—
Fitting to its connection with a soul.
Dual design is not new, I confess,
But twice, blooming imag..
|
 |
Comfort weighs on our hiding heart,
masking all manner of mistakes,
and so prompts imagination.
And here ignites the dry wood of the soul
t..
|
 |
Drawn out of deep waters,
the air hits my soaked skin
with a calming chill.
Uneasy to forget the path
that led to the miry depths
without footh..
|
 |
Crawling with harsh sobs,
one hand lifts from the dirt below,
and a muddy palm flattens it's pressure
to the heaving chest.
Fingers grasp to rip..
|
 |
This room of people,
so much more than just bodies.
The mystery
of the connection.
These frail, spun
webs that break
so easily--
leaving ..
|
 |
I see this common stain--
the mark in my eye,
reflected in the soul of
every broken thing I see.
Striving to be clear of it.
Tears can’..
|
|
|
first
prev
Profile
Writing
Friends
Share This