An avid reader who also loves writing about all sorts of things (Life, love, family, books, poetry, the world around us).
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In the days when I was singing along to Hilty and McPhee, Hoping against hope that you “Don’t Forget Me,” I never would’ve thought that someday
By Danielle Elizabeth Andrews3 months ago in Poets
Today marks five years since that awful day. The day they called and told me, “She’s gone…away.” Confusion rocked us all.
This is your Jar of Dreams, And it is not what it seems: You’ll jot down your hopes for the future, All that you want to come true.
‘Welcome, my wordsmithing friend, to the River of Song! These silty shores are where you’ll soon find that you belong. Come, take my hand.
Every day is the same, Monotonous. Will I ever be free to flex my brain? Spontaneity, Does it still exist inside of me?
In a poem by Bradley J. Nordell, he said, “The creak of an old house isn’t just wood settling, but the tiredness of being.” I felt those words so deep down it wasn’t just bone-deep, it was soul-deep.
Exposed. Every petal was torn away from the rose. Suspicions constantly arose. Sense of self they try to erode. . Unwavering,
Violet Are the veins that illuminate the sky. The ground rumbles ominously underfoot. Blue-gray storm clouds provide a backdrop,
Instinctively, I look over my shoulder. Tonight is All Hallows Eve, after all. Surely, spirits and ghouls are lurking about.
By Danielle Elizabeth Andrews6 months ago in Poets
It is the Dark of the Moon. The wind is howling through the trees. The coyotes will begin their nightly howling soon. Gravel and crispy, colorful leaves crunch under my boots.
Has the USB cord become the new umbilical? We’re all plugged into one device or another. Constantly connected to a virtual life,
Tall, strong, steady, and true Unwaveringly stable, That’s how I’d describe you. In my darkest moments, you’ve been my light.
