May 26

Cobblestone Town

The street is long and winding
And there are so many shops to choose from. 
All with quaint swinging signs on the side, creaking on their hinges. 
Two apartment buildings sit side by side on the street,
A clothesline strung between them. 
Someone creaks open a window, and yells across the street
"Hey! Can I borrow a flower pot?"
You smile, then continue on your way. There's a small ice cream shop that you decide you want to visit, so you head in that direction. 
The bell on the door tinkles as you walk in. It smells of vanilla and chocolate. There's a large notice on the black board that says,
"Today's special! Blackberry-Chocolate sundae!"
Small metal tables are set around the shop, with curling legs and pink and peach accents. You sit down at the counter, then look at the jukebox and smile. A few minutes later "Hey Jude" is blasting from the speakers. 
May 21


A clink and splash 
From a full glass of water
Gets my senses started.
I watch the
Big glass with green stripes
Around it 
Wondering and 
Why a simple glass can get me tingling.
I know why.
At the very thought of this word
I'm pulled 
First to the ocean
Melodic waves
Lap the shore
Reminding me of warm 
And cool
Water. Floating among the salty, open sea
I feel more mysefl than ever. 
Zip... and I'm in 
The above ground pool 
With flecks of grass in it
Swimming like
A seal, smooth
Like cream. 
Again, a change 
And I have been transported 
To the lake
The cold tingling
The slide off the dock
The shouts of ectasy.
The pool again
Then, the ocean
Back to the lake
And then with a whoosh...... 
I'm staring at the 
May 21

Jail Writing

The glow of the lamplight illuminated her face
As she worked diligently on her essay.
Not small minded
But small
She scratched away with her pencil 
Leaving traces
On the paper.
Her face lit up with excitement.
The girl put down her lined piece of paper,
That looked like a jail for words.
She took out
A piece of blank paper
And began to write.
"The glow of the lamplight illuminated her face..." 
Apr 16

The Story Of My Harry Potter Life

Please read this. It is so important to me that this story be told. I know it's long, but it's the most important thing in my life. 

When I first took the book off the shelf, I didn't know what it would begin. I didn't know how attached to these characters I would become, and I didn't know what tears of agony I would cry when I knew that I would never know them. It all began with a book.
Mar 19

I Have an Itch to Write

I have an itch to dance
To shake my body to the music playing from my phone in my mint green bedroom.
To bend and fantasize in my living room with music blasting from the speakers.
I have an itch to dance.

I have an itch to sing.
To belt out the words to my favorite song ever.
To feel the music in my body.
To listen to the country songs on the radio.
I have an itch to sing.

I have an itch to laugh.
To snort over things middle scholars say.
To belly laugh in charades with my family.
I have an itch to laugh.

I have an itch to draw.
To scribble on the page in agony, wondering how life got this way.
To work for days and days with my pencil clutched in my hand, and finally look at the finished whatever-it-is.
I have an itch to draw.

I have an itch to read.
To curl up on my couch and dive into Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince.
Mar 19

The Bird

    Come, little bird, come to me. I can use you.

    Come to me, little bird. Come. I will keep you safe.

    Come! I need you! I will keep you safe, in a nice cage.

    I will keep you as safe as I can. We will be friends. You will be free.

    Free birds are nothing. Birds in captivity are useful. You can be useful!

    I will treat you as an equal. Your wings will be valued.

    Wings are only what makes you a bird. Does it really matter?

    Everything about you matters. You are a bird.

    Bah! And what use is a bird if it is not in captivity?

    You don’t have to be useful. Just be my friend.

    Imagine if you had to be someone’s friend. How awful would that be?

    Please, bird?
Feb 24


I want to remember 
Frozen at 10 and a half
I want to remember.
I want to remember my orange, crisp sheets.
I want to remember my sister’s piano melody floating around the house.
I want to remember how there is always something baking in the oven
Something yummy.
I want to remember my dad’s flannel shirts
And his hat as he rides our lawn mower.
I want to remember lolling in the grass by the hammock by the magnolia tree
Talking with my sister.
I want to remember laughter and card games before bed.
I want to remember four people and a dog and a big white house.
I want to remember the movies we watched
How we used to always watch the animated ‘Cinderella’
But then we evolved
We grew.
I want to remember the first time I watched the first Harry Potter movie
On the brown couch that my parents say is green
Squeezed in with my mother.
Feb 13


Don’t be afraid if your writing isn’t good enough.
It is.
Write like you know that someone is about to publish it.
Write like you know that someone important is about to read it.
Write like you know that someone is about to read the words aloud on national television,
And everyone is calling in to say how amazing it is.
Please keep writing.
I know a lot of people who would love to read your work,
And know that poems and stories are being carried on in this world.
If not for me,
Write for your grandchildren.
Write for your grandmother.
Write for yourself.
Keep writing.
Feb 07

Morning Girl

Fog drifted sleepily around the neighborhood.
The girl was sleepy, too.
But she had dragged herself off of her bed in the adoption center
To see what was going to happen.
A ghostly lamplight glowed from high above
Making our girl shiver.
She was so young,
So scared
And the morning was drifting around her
Settling onto her shoulders like a pet snake
That could strike at any moment.
Towering buildings grew from the streets below.
They were protective
And fierce.
The girl looked up.
After waiting for nearly an hour,
The sun,
Like a great big golden beach ball,
Was rising over the tops of the city skyscrapers.
The lamplight flickered out.
Our girl was in awe
Of the beauty around her.
"Finally," she thought.
My time has come."

Feb 06


Sometimes I feel that
My glasses are my protection from the world.
Without them
I would be scared
Out of place.
When I'm staring from behind them
I feel like the world is fake
And everything is just an illusion.
It's not something real that I can touch.
It's just a stupid reality T.V. show where the characters are way to dramatic about their love lives.
I'm just watching
Waiting for my part in the world
To open up.
So that I can make a difference
Even with my protective goggles on.
So that suddenly,
My world isn't T.V. anymore.
It's real life.