Just a Purple Soul Surviving a Colorless World
A Peek at my Unique Soul
My soul spends endless hours swimming deep in thought,
Like a lilac sea star on the ocean floor,
A perfect balance of my mother’s strength and my father’s integrity,
Just like lavender I’ll calm your emotions,
Selfless kindness poured onto undeserving others,
I’m a soul that seeps unconditional love,
Like amethyst crystal I sparkle when lit up,
As gentle as a violet or deadly as nightshade is up to you,
This world wasn’t made for a soul as purple as me,
So sensitive that I hide behind words,
Written words express my imagination,
My creations move *Zijin Shan,
If I weren’t purple this colorless world would swallow my soul too
*Zijin Shan means purple mountain. It’s located in China about 448 meters high. The peaks are usually covered in purple and golden clouds around dusk and dawn, giving it the name.
About the Creator
Kristen Renee
Kristen Renee
Writer of poems, short stories, and soon a novel.
Six "Editor's Choice Awards" (1997-2011)
Published in the Library of Congress
Bachelor's Degree in English
Master's Degree in Business Administration
Collector of Books
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More stories from Kristen Renee and writers in Poets and other communities.
Inking my Emotions
Writing has been my passion since 1995. It all began with my 8th grade English teacher wanting all her students to write something for the “Young Author’s” contest. I decided to write a poetry book full of acrostic poems because I had never heard of them before. Acrostic poems are poems in which the first letter of each line of the poem is the first letter of the title word or words. I spent the weekend thinking of words that were simple, yet could make an impact.
By Kristen Renee3 years ago in Poets
I Can Be Scary Too
That little shit has messed with my garden for the last time. The way he wreaks havoc on my strawberry plants is a crime. I’ve had enough of watching him through the glass window. Sauntering around with his cassette while I wait for his sabotage to explode. He thinks my time and resources are so disposable. Well, I find his arrogance opposable. If I ever catch him in my garden again, I’ll be serving up my brand of sabotage. Then be tossing him in my disposable bin behind the garage. Maybe even bury him and cover it in a small patch of grass. Then admire his grave from behind my window’s glass. I’ll listen to his cassette while I tend to my plants of strawberry. After that, no one will doubt that I can be scary.
By Donna Fox (HKB)about 5 hours ago in Poets
The Business of Nature
Dew drops reflected the light of the sun. The inhabitants of Whispering Woods woke up to the golden droplets of water on the leaves of the flora. The oaks particularly enjoyed the light and the maples did, too. Happiness enveloped all who lived there, even the rocks that cried out in the night delighted in the morning.
By Skyler Saundersa day ago in Fiction
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