I'm a freelance creative who loves writing poetry and short stories. I hope you enjoy!
With the serenity of silence, Dusk descends on the meadow. Green blades slice through the blue of day And now melt to deep indigo as
By AR3 years ago in Poets
Can you see the mountains in the distance? Can you see them rolling, Stretching, Rising, then Crashing into each other,
Maybe it was my fault it didn’t work out. Maybe I expected too much. I might have been unreasonable. I guess I could’ve been controlling.
A young girl sits alone in a dark room with her head in her hands. Nobody knows her. She does not even know herself. Do I write her story?
Crickets chirp in the shadows, Musical notes rising above the Rippling rivulets flowing in the hills. I look out across the luscious field
A soft breeze flows between the trees. They whisper. I run my hand along the bark of one. It feels rough, hardened By time.
From the forest I came. From fallen trees-- I have no leaves, No roots, no bark. I am not vibrant. Black and white--
They climb higher. I stand and watch them silently, the roaring flames, The curling smoke, and feel Calm. Odd, I think, how something that others see as so violent