Costumes

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.

The Pencil

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!

Woosh

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

Burn.

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.

Pencil Marks

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

Jupiter

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.

Candle Bliss

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.

Chairs

You see them on porches and on lawns
down by the lakeside,
usually arranged in pairs implying a couple
could sit there and look out
at the water or the big shade trees.
The trouble is you never see anyone
sitting in these forlorn chairs
though at one time it must have seemed
a good place to stop and do nothing for a while.
Sometimes there is a little table
between the chairs where no one
is resting a glass or placing a book facedown.
It might be none of my business,
but it might be a good idea one day
for everyone who placed those vacant chairs
on a veranda or a dock to sit down in them
for the sake of remembering
whatever it was they thought deserved
to be viewed from two chairs
side by side with a table in between.
The clouds are high and massive that day.
The woman looks up from her book.
The man takes a sip of his drink.
Then there is nothing but the sound of their looking,
the lapping of lake water, and a call of one bird
then another, cries of joy or warning—
it passes the time to wonder which.