Trembling wheat in the sun-baked winds look like wild waves of gold, skillfully swaying in the glittering day—the fields are an endless and open invitation that calls the free wanderers, the dreamers, and anyone needing a change of pace into its splendor, into its sense of comfortability, into a world separate from the concrete and gray—we may tremble with it—with the wheat spun from the blazing sun, with the carefree visions that may be out of reach for many, including ourselves. The rat race dies here and the unwavering winds bury it in soil while we dance as free as the wheat does.
About the Creator
Andi Leigh
Poet • Novelist • Short Story Writer • Photographer • Cartoonist
Hello! I'm Andi. I enjoy writing poetry, horror stories, and general fiction.
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My Tolerated Self
I'd like to think I'd escape for better days. Even though the needles pricking into my skin may urge me to stay put, we are not meant for boxes and contraptions that will keep us inside. The needles aren't real, they are like bugs crawling on my skin—those feelings will fade with clarity, but some days I am unwilling to step outside of my tolerated self; my bones crumble at the idea of a future uncertain. I'm used to the boxes that keep me in place even though I know I can walk right through them and I'd be fine.
By Andi Leigh22 days ago in Poets
Springtime Treasures
Peering out the window hearing, praying, sleeping to the teatime hymn of goldfinch birds. Thank you for taking the time to read another one of my poems. If you enjoyed this poem, please give it a ❤️, share it with others, comment, and please feel free to send me a tip/pledge to show your appreciation and support. To find and read more exciting content, please consider subscribing and visiting my public profile. Stay tuned for more poetry, recipes, stories, and much more!
By Talia Devora7 days ago in Poets
Vale Perficientur
"My tears need a minute to find the edges of my face. If you'll please excuse me." The sarcasm stabbed into Juliana’s heart. Antonia glared at her from the pit of the Lyceum as her student fought to hold back tears that had nothing to do with the pain in her fingers. “You’re better than this, again.”
By Matthew Fromm7 days ago in Fiction
Comments (1)
"the wheat spun from the blazing sun" - wonderful writing!