Month: March 2021

My bed soft and squishy
I bury myself into the colorful depths of my comforter,
that comforts
me time to time.
My pillows firm and soft just the right way they flop on the bed,
as i hear the non stop sounds from the TV downstairs.
my canopy
above my bed keeps out the demons that like to pick on me in my dreams.
My bed is my charger and i never like unplug

Notebooks are empty

at the beginning of the year.

Pages blank, not a single word.

Over the year they fill up.

Pages littered with problems,

covers worn and torn.

Our most common tool,

they help us to remember

the things we learned

over the year.

Notebooks are knowledge

at the end of year.

Costumes

Its come around that time again for me to put you on scary, sweet, cute or kind anything could be my costume,
My something to hide behind.
Spooky and scary skeletons running down the block,
i still don’t know what to be
It becomes five o’clock, almost time to collect candy.
My sisters costume is looking pretty
dandy.
My costume looks homemade but i really love it i don’t need a mask to hide behind because for halloween
i am myself.

I am simple
It’s true
I wear a thin yellow skirt
One rubber boot
And a number 2 tattoo

I am made out of wood
Don’t put me in your mouth,
I don’t taste that good

You can doodle with me,
Scribble or print
If you make a mistake,
I can take it…
And you can erase it

I am simple
it’s true
I am here…
simply
to help you!

The winter slowly starting
Snow is slowly falling
WOOSHH
The wind creeping aloung your leg
Kids playing outside with
Little rudoff noses
Laughing and joy though all the little houses
Hot chocolate being shared
Like how santa gives out presents
The winters slowly starting
Snow is slowly falling
WOOSHH
Time to go to bed

As the buildings burn the figure stood from a distance,
The fire illuminated all the fleeing citizens of the city.
Oil containers littered the floor like corpses. A lighter
In the arsonist’s hand, as they stood from a distance
Watching the city burn.

On the gridiron
I make the sack
That poor quarteback
That O-lineman
Is afraid of me
The running back
Can’t hold me back
I’m going after
That quarterback

Pencil Marks-

The pencil marks
Leaving our thoughts
On each page;
Leaving only our
Deepest feelings
To drown in the words;
Leaving our understandings
Of the world
In the hands of a notebook;
In which we savor memories
That we will later treasure;
The pencil is tired
From moving across the page;
One day I’ll look back,
At the pages real close,
And I’ll remember the pencil
That noted the memories,
That mattered the most

In his long tunnel
The hamster peeks out,
His little pink
Nose, twitching,
His tiny paws carry
Him into
His wheel;
He takes a few steps,
Then runs away,
Chittering;
He climbs into
His perfect, round, burrow:
He shifts around,
Finding the
Perfect position;
Then falls asleep,
Dreams of running.

I walk across my room,
Lighting my candle,
That smells like perfume,
The flame rises up,
And then back down,
It’s going side to side,
Giving me the opposite of a frown.
It looks so pretty,
Like the stars in the night,
I started to walk away,
But I heard a whisper,
It feels like I’m talking,
To a long lost sister.