Poet
Novelist
Linguist & Aspiring Polyglot
Bibliophile
I was twenty-three When the pandemic began... I’m still twenty-three
By Lucia B.about a year ago in Poets
Seconds tick away Even when I wish they’d stay They do not turn back
"We’ll talk tomorrow" My problem’s always the same I think there’s more time
The gentle crunch of snow beneath feet It is an icy tundra all around The whole Earth is blanketed white And there is not a soul to make a sound
Humans are very odd indeed. I’ve seen many, and my observations can be summarized exactly that way: Humans are very odd. They make things overly complicated. They try to hide what should be exposed. They build walls. I do not understand why.
By Lucia B.about a year ago in Fiction
Have you not seen the bewilderment That is a soul finding another soul Which, in an instant, Both paralyzes and consumes it whole?
Why do we say “I miss you”? Why does the phrase exist? Well, today I breathed a heavy sigh And I wondered why it passed my lips
Flames rage and consume Kissing the heavens from Earth Opposite the sun From the heavens comes The hungry growl of storm clouds
Raging flames consume Storm winds stoke them but rains pound Embers into ash
The outside world was unknown to her, but she could see a glimpse of it through the window in his room. It was a large, panoramic window, sealed on the edges. She could see for miles the sweeping landscape of arid mountains. It was beautiful, but it was also dead.
Sea, eyes, blossoms, skies All are blue- like peace, like you Someday like me too
"Hold fast, storms don't last" Will the storm outlast the crew? Blue waves fill our boat.
