My goal is to build my storytelling skills and explore depth in poetry
It's a terrible thing to be cold Coldhearted Cold mannered I didn't smile at you when our eyes chanced to meet I didn't speak the kind word that could have broken the ice lying between us
By Misty Rumsley4 months ago in Poets
I was alive once a seed in the darkness of the dirt hidden away from daylight A blade of grass seems such an insignificant creation
By Misty Rumsley7 months ago in Poets
I saw a blackbird sitting on a reflector post by a lonely road. His feathers were black and shiny, a downy layer over his plump breast. Those who knew him knew his foolish tendencies. Even so, he had acquired a maturity of sorts by his years.
Yesterday I saw these daisies had pink tips Today they do not
By Misty Rumsley9 months ago in Poets
Every flower has a voice It loves all bright and beautiful It stands in perfection Gripped by the heart of earth Framed forever in the hope of a new sunrise
Young Maddy shivered though the presence Of others kept her warm Her lips did quiver, her being shake As the ship sailed on through the storm
The pilot slips into his seat He hears the door shut for the last time The co-pilot beside him does greet So shall the war bird go flying
I was folding your shirts today Ones you saw fit to leave behind Found myself standing there Clutching at the material until it wrinkled again
Hallie poked her head around the last aisle of books in one corner of the library where a few high school students were sitting on the floor, giggling about who-knows-what.
By Misty Rumsley9 months ago in Fiction
Dancing in a shower of dust In a room that hasn't seen the light of day for years Dancing around piles of furniture Pieces of a life coated in spider webs and disappointment
Floating who-knows-how-high above the treetops Gliding across a clear surface Ever changing Always moving A replica of the strangest objects in the observer's mind
By Misty Rumsley10 months ago in Poets
If I were a flower I would soak up the sunshine without wasting a thought for all the pain in the world. Who knows where I would be?