"And I am not frightened of dying, any time will do, I don't mind. Why should I be frightened of dying? There's no reason for it, you've gotta go sometime."
"I want so badly to believe
That there is truth, that love is real".
To go home.
A place where sky is a
Mosaic of pinks and cloud,
Blended together like
Wild cherry blossoms
On a lush spring land.
Loud waves
Audible in echo;
between the wet hills
But a whisper of breath,
lapping against the cold, matted sand.
All these years
the crawling mud
between the toes-
Gritty sludge
foreign to soft feet
Is still appealing.
And the droplets of sun
Bits of light- of life
sliding down a canvas
Disrupted by the blowing wind
The wind,
Drowning the hills
Still wet with dew,
Seeps into the mouths of crevices that
Swallow rivers whole
into the earthy well.
"I want so badly to believe
That there is truth, that love is real".
To go home.
A place where sky is a
Mosaic of pinks and cloud,
Blended together like
Wild cherry blossoms
On a lush spring land.
Loud waves
Audible in echo;
between the wet hills
But a whisper of breath,
lapping against the cold, matted sand.
All these years
the crawling mud
between the toes-
Gritty sludge
foreign to soft feet
Is still appealing.
And the droplets of sun
Bits of light- of life
sliding down a canvas
Disrupted by the blowing wind
The wind,
Drowning the hills
Still wet with dew,
Seeps into the mouths of crevices that
Swallow rivers whole
into the earthy well.
- Last seen 1 day ago. Member since July 5, 2005.
- I'm a supertopaz delight poet for 80 comments.
- I am a 17 year old woman from California (United States)
- When I'm not writing, I'm Living it.
- Visit my homepage at myspace.com/livinglifemother
- I am in the groups Dead Poets Society
- I have 80 comments, 2 contests
My Poetry
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So there we were, riding our horses
Past the train tracks, riding bareback35 lines, August 12. In Song Lyrics -
If only you knew how beautiful you are now,
Crumpled like Van Gogh on the museum floor,
You'd put out your worries and doubts and that da24 lines, 2 comments, August 12 -
Brody looked into the glinting waves of the Northern California shore through the glare of his spectacles. He stood shin-deep, facing the vast ocean and waiting for each of its heavy strokes. The waves we8 lines, September 17, 2007
My Stories
1 - 4 of 2
Show all at storywrite
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286 lines, 1 comment, January 12, 2007. In <600 words
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The curls in her hair had slowly lost their life as the rain fell in beads onto her bowed head. Her makeup forgotten, and her clothes thrown on, every bit of her seemed tired and desperate. She sprinted through the wood, over
