Category: 07th

When I fall, the feathers fly
When I reach, they drift away
Calm, quiet, a summer breeze
Lifts the feathers higher.

When I fall, the feathers fly
When I call, they turn away
Soft, gentle, they look up
Though I scream from below.

When I fall, the feathers fly
When I reach, call, cry
They look to the stars, the sun, the sky
And stand by as I suffer.

They pity me
Unable to float, to soar
The one who falls while they fly

But when I fall, the feathers fly
So when I fall they let me cry
Because when I fall
They glide higher
So why would they stop me from falling?

I’m looking out over the jagged edge.
Eyes glazed over.
Retreated into my head.
Absorbing the scene into my mind.

The trees that bend and sway, snapping at each other with their branches.
The water that writhes and runs over the rocks with relentless ease.
The gray swarming sky splits apart to hurl the frigid droplets of water at me.
It runs down my face, my arms, my back, and legs.

It’s smooth and calming paired with the searing pain of the chill.
An icy knife cutting me slowly to shreds.
The wind tosses and turns.
Always restless, always searching.

A force bound to the beauty of nature.
Left alone to wonder the Earth,
But never afraid.
Detached from the world.

A churning mass in my chest.
Waiting.
Wanting.
Watching.

An endless need to find…
Something.
And it can be free.
I can be free.

We both wait and watch and roam,
Always looking,
For that something.
That will set us free.

I start to wonder to myself.
Is the wind I’ve always known just the souls of people like me,
Who were born to wonder,
That have finally been set free?

the Stage is where i feel safe.
Yes, this is my place,
with all that spotlight on my face.

my dirty feet on the hard marley floor,
oh Yes, i want even more.

it know its not a phase,
I Know This because all it does is amaze.

Yes, the stage is no phase.
i feel safe.
the spotlight,
the floor,
all of it.
the Stage.

My favorite food is really yummy,
My favorite food is as sweet as sugar.
I love my favorite food when it is in my tummy.
Some don’t like it, I think they are a booger.

The flakey dough
melts in my mouth.
But wait! It’s too hot! You have to blow,
It’s as hot as the old south.

My favorite food is Sopapillas.
I love the soft white powder,
I wish I could have them every día.
Although, I would probably start chewing louder.

I love Sopapillas through and through,
If you love them too, come join my crew.

The soft glow,
always walking beside you
being the light.
brightens your day.

A scent,
like a blooming flower
on a warm spring day.
being the light.
Brightens your day.

You watch the wick,
slowly withering away.
Unlike your memories,
from that old spring day.
Being the light.
Brightens your day.

Since the beginning,
We’ve set out to explore
Curiosity drives us
To achieve so much more

We’ve traversed the Earth
Conquered the globe
No longer pursuing four corners
Instead, voyaging with space probes

Fought with Nature
Pushed Her back
Built up defenses
Lit up the night black

We’ve invented and tinkered
The wheel and cars, oh wow!
And, there’s genetic coding!
But minds are stuck in iPhones, somehow

Despite these accomplishments
We are always and still striving
Moving and craving for more, more, more
As soon as we’re arriving
We decide:
There’s always more to look for.

Nighthawks soar in the gloom of the night, gazing intently at the nearby fauna of savannas
Amaryllis flowers possess the utmost beauty everyone desires
Trees wilt from the gust and breeze, which lurks about at a tip-toeing pace in the air
Ulysses butterflies hover in the lush and scintillating light fluttering from flower to flower
Ribbiting frogs inhabit the undergrowth of the rainforest, whipping their tongue out at nearby nutriment
Everything is a crafted and evolved creation, but not anything is perfect

I stand in front of the apartment after a long airplane fight
I have waited so long to be here again
With the cute kitchen and the bedrooms with tiny beds

But most of all the living room,
I love the smell of the paintings,
And how her collection of sorts sits on the coffee table
With a flower patterned sofa right next to it
The curtains block the window

She stands right next to it everyday
Looking through the window
Watching all the cars and bikes go by

She seems so tall compared to the sofa
I can barely even look out the window
But soon I’ll be taller than her
Next time I visit, I’ll be so tall she won’t even recognize me

Who knew I would have to wait so long
I still wait to this day
The place I look forward to visiting is empty
The place looks the same, but she’s not there
Not right by the window, watching the cars go by
She’s not standing right next to the couch
Or walking by her coffee table

Who knew a pandemic would come
Who knew it would keep us apart
Apart until it was too late
To say good bye.

A baby in a crib
With only one dirty bib

Living with his mother
And with his grandmother

They’re moving around sluggish
The room feeling muggish

Hungry baby in a crib
Only getting a bite or a nibble

A baby crying
The mother hitting

Alone in the apartment
Food not in the compartment

Mother taking drugs
Shes feeling smug

Gone again and left alone
Another of the baby’s groan

Taken by the government to be protected
A Baby finally being respected

Taken in by a family that is the best
I am no guest

Finally happy at last
All of that is in the past

You wake up.
You look around your cramped, wooden room in your house.
You’re still tired, despite just waking up.
The morning sun shines through your window, onto your face.
You sit up.
The autumn air flows through your abode.
It smells sweet to you.
Fills you with joy.
You turn around and put one foot on the floor.
Then the other.
Stars fill your head as you get overtaken by vertigo.
You sat up too quickly.
You lie back down on your comforter.
You watch the ceiling spin in slow circles.
You watch as the feeling of falling never slows down.
You watch as the world goes on without you,
For another day.