Friday, February 16, 2018

When my breath parallels the clouds

When my breath parallels the clouds,
The whispers are silent and freeing.
As I shiver from the wispy shrouds,
I soak in the phantom blurs I am seeing.

Tentative drops fall first: quiet, unsure,
And my heart skips in anticipation.
Resilient eyes follow the liquid allure,
Utterly still: from the mirage, I am taken.

Mist feathers my skin as it whirls and dances,
Alone with me, in this frigid, ghostly crowd.
Always hoping for the storm’s advances,
When my breath parallels the clouds.

Meet Cute : Neighbors

(Rosalie, college freshman, unpacks her car with her friend and new roommate, Carla, to move into their off campus apartment building.)

Carla: (Struggling with a bag.) Ugh! You have too much stuff! It’s not like you moved across the country. You only live like an hour away from campus! What did you do? Bring your entire house with you?

Rosalie: I just want to be comfortable here. You never know surprises the school year may bring. And there’s nothing wrong with being prepared. 

Carla: Yeah, I guess. But it looks more like you are preparing for the apacolypse, if you ask me. 

Rosalie: (Carries a heavy box up the steps and turns away to speak over her shoulder) Well, then it’s a good thing I didn’t ask you. 

(The door flys open, hitting the box out of Rosalie’s hand and it crashes to the floor, sending books flying everywhere. New guy, Ethan, emerges from behind the door to help collect the fallen books.)

Ethan: (Looking up at Rosalie.) I’m so sorry. I didn’t know you were there. 

Rosalie: (Crouches down to help.) It’s okay. They’re just books. 

Ethan: (Muttering.) A lot of books. 

Rosalie: (Annoyed with the comment.) I like to read. 

Ethan: (Amused.) Clearly. (He picks a few books up to read their titles.)

Rosalie: You know what? If your not going to help, then you can just go. My friend Carla can help me. (Begins to stand to get Carla.)

Ethan: (Grabs her arm to halt her.) Hey, truly, I am sorry. 

Rosalie: (Pulls away.) It’s fine. I got this. 

Ethan: (Stands with books in the crook of his arm.) Well, at least let me bring them to your apartment. It’s the least I could do. 

Rosalie: (Still annoyed.) You don’t have to go out of your way. 

Ethan: (Smirks knowingly.) It’s not. I live right next door to you. 

Rosalie: (Glares.) How do you know which apartment is mine? 

Ethan: (Steps closer to pull out the keys dangling from her front pocket.) Your room number is right on your keychain, neighbor. 

Tuesday, February 6, 2018

Tears From the Sky

Rolling clouds shield the once clear sky
Inch by inch they blanket and smother
In ceaseless grey for vast miles high

To brace myself in need of cover
Would mean I fear the rain
First drops that fall seem to pause and hover

Above me it stops, evidently insane
Time recovers and drops forever seep
Plop! Plop! Plop! They cry without wane

Drops mingle with the cold tears I weep
For such dreadful beauty is too great
In a puddle I fall to a shivering heap

The sky has not cried too much as of late
Now this unexpected drizzle steals my fate

Tuesday, January 30, 2018

Wielder of Thunderbolts

A blinding thunderbolt touched down to earth, shattering the star-crusted night sky, causing forceful shockwaves to span from its epicenter in tulmulterous waves. I was ferociously thrown to the ground, shielding my sensitive eyes from the starkly luminous beam, and could feel each strand of hair on my skin stand on its end. I rose on shaky feet, searching with crazed eyes for the gifted soul who could wield such indisputable power.

Was he a friend or foe?

Was the thunderbolt meant for me?

Had I been discovered?

I clutched at the bark of a nearby tree to keep upright as I was hit with residual spasms, and opened my mind in search of the formidable intruder.

Silence. Eerily so.

The risen full moon lit a path of scorched earth before me. Energized static clawed at my skin, creating spidery friction beneath my heavy coat. A crackling boom shuddered through my eardrums as flickers of light pulsed through the night.

And it was there, upon the relentlessly striking iron gate, that I saw him. The young boy sat atop the gate’s flat edge, swinging his legs with a carefree composure that was disconcerting enough to send another tremor through my bones. He used one hand to clasp the iron bars, keeping himself steady, and began to steadily lift the other above his head of moonlit curly hair. With a face of child-like blithe, he illuminated the canvased ink sky, once more.

Wednesday, January 24, 2018

The Haze of Ceasless Hills

Perched atop a faithful tower 
Below the shining midday sun,
Dreaming of but one more hour
Before urged to cleave and run.

Basking in such golden rays
With views of ceaseless hills,
Eyes of tact see through its haze
If provoked by the sheer of wills.

Veiled secrets woven through and through  
Betwixt the ribs of grass,
Entranced by a triumphant view 
That shifts for time to pass.

Tuesday, January 23, 2018

Forgotten Heart

Once so lovely, once so free,
Turned vision framed to leer at me. 

You caught me once, you caught me twice,
Sans shield, I fall, for due was thrice. 

Fire eyes ablazed, thorned rose in hand,
You’ve come to seize once promised land.  

Forgive me, Sir, I had no part,
For all was lost in my forgotten heart. 

Tuesday, January 16, 2018

Orchard of Hidden Jewels

The wind was rich and spirited. With every careful step, I relished in the billowing aroma of fresh apples that seeped with an all-encompassing fervor into my pores. The vibrant emerald leaves tickled my skin as I crouched under the shaggy branch, wishing for relief from the unforgiving maze I had become subjected to. The orchard was vast, bristling with the ruby hued fruit that commanded to be cherished and respected for their unadulterated purity. I gazed at the fruit with longing as a quiver of hunger pierced my stomach after seven daunting hours in this relentless grove. I wouldn't dare disturb the crystalline apples by plucking one with my filthy, weathered fingers.

A flash of silver blinded my senses, the curious reflection making me pause mid-stride. Even the wind seemed to fall stagnant, my long hair motionless against sweat slicked skin. With a cautious tread, I meandered the cluttered grounds as the tinkling light commanded me forward under an unspoken compulsion. I halted before a heavy fallen tree limb, the curling leaves marrying shades of dying chartreuse and olive. With a strength only capable of the desperate, I heaved the branch from its grave to reveal the residing treasure that lay beneath. My eyes blinked furiously on their own accord, as if they were scrutinizing a mirage.

The chrome tricycle gleamed in the mid-day sun, overwhelming my sight with a dazzling luminosity. I crept towards it with a loyal grace, my heart beating with the devotion that one would feel if they stood before their salvation. Filth and grime forgotten, I feathered my fingers over the silken handle bars with a reverent touch. With a rejuvenated spirit, I fluently saddled onto the plush leather seat as if I were a huntress mounting my prized stallion. Worn hiking boots caressed the glistening pedals as I readied myself for the journey to freedom. My feet began to cycle in an effortless sequence as an unnatural vortex of wind encircled me. Those flawlessly jeweled trees, that seemed so monumental just moments ago, were gradually diminishing into inconsequential sprouts as I rose higher and higher into the weightless sky.