Jessi

Joined November 2020

0 stories

Bio

Writer on the Oregon coast. Lover of nature, poetry, and coffee! I love to write about my travels, lovers + mental health. Thanks for your support! Feel free to browse, share, and comment away. :)

Stories (59/0)

golden hues fall slow
Before The Sun took her rest on Saturday evening I heard two wood thrushes singing a melody Whilst waiting for my tea to steep I watched
By Jessi7 months ago in Poets
To my Orson:
To my Orson: There are so many things I wish to say And you know why it pains me so not to Boarding that train was like stepping on shattered glass
By Jessi8 months ago in Poets
for Iris, with love
For Iris, with love: The overcast skies are your tearful eyes Misty as the ocean tide But when the sun is out, I hide away
By Jessi8 months ago in Poets
Daisy Dares
Daisy dares to make a couple of bucks shoveling up mud, dirt, and yucky muck a couple of days a week or so in the rain, sun, or snow
By Jessi9 months ago in Poets
The March of The Bells
Every night at midnight, the purple clouds came out to dance with the blushing sky. Like the strike of a match, the sky lit up brilliantly with violet—Her most cherished color. Of course, it was Ginger Lee's favorite time of day—especially in Lindsonton during the March of The Bells. The bells on her shoes would tap through the blue herb garden leading to the mossy stairs of the Brown House. The moon glowed yellow as it was full today and she let the light guide her. The smell of damp wood fueled her journey up the stairs until she reached the golden knob of the Brown Door. She knocked, and the door opened quietly. No questions asked—never at midnight during the March!
By Jessi9 months ago in Fiction
pause.
throughout time and space only one thing remains the same we cannot press pause
By Jessi10 months ago in Poets
bottling time
the more that time flies the more we try to hold it bottle it up tight
By Jessi10 months ago in Poets
and where does Time go
and where does Time go with just a bat of the eye it passes us by
By Jessi10 months ago in Poets
yesterday's adieu
Every morning when the coffee is brewed I open the blinds to take in the view Will there be Pink? Purple? Blue? Many shades of orange or only a few?
By Jessi10 months ago in Poets
the barber
From time to time When the moon is just right Full Bright With a bone-chilling fright A dream comes sneakily in the night
By Jessi11 months ago in Poets
harvest moon dreams
I searched through the thick, tall rows of the wheat fields From the roots to the heads, I trolled endlessly until every grass was peeled
By Jessi11 months ago in Poets
doesn't it make you mad?
Doesn't it make you mad? Doesn't it really aggravate your nerves knowing that you can't look at the sun when it's so breathtaking at this time in the morning? I want to stare. I want to longingly gaze at the sunrise-- watch the colors change and swirl around the sky. I want to watch the magic show and stand in awe as the clouds vanish in the blink of an eye. I want to watch the whole thing. I don't want to miss any part of the story. But I can't watch it because it hurts too much. Doesn't it make you mad that the sun blinds you?
By Jessi12 months ago in Poets

Jessi

Bio

Stories .css-19zxm0z-Text{display:inline-block;color:var(--text-default-mute);}(59/0)

golden hues fall slow

To my Orson:

for Iris, with love

Daisy Dares

The March of The Bells

pause.

bottling time

and where does Time go

yesterday's adieu

the barber

harvest moon dreams

doesn't it make you mad?

Stories (59/0)