Stars & freckles

The sprinkle of stars across the sky was an inverse of the scatter of freckles across her nose, her shoulders; as the one constellation grew brighter by night, its echo, too, became more prominent, but in darkening the longer it was exposed to day, to the sun.

The stalks of wheat in the mid-August evening light were an imitation of the strands she kept loosely woven down her back; they whispered and whisked in the wind, dancing like the fair flyaways that framed her face.

The languid blooms of yellow trumpets taking their midday nap were like so many miniatures of her in that saffron sundress, flitting around in the summery warmth, teasing him with twists and turns.

The morning storm clouds, gathering heavy and angry in the damp grey sky, patterned those slate shaded irises of hers; the lightning flashes mirrored the blaze of her gaze, and the nimbus nebulosities spilling their tears replicated her own precipitation.

No, he could not escape her.


A Reading of A Flawless Fabrication

Lately I’ve been quite interested in hearing poetry spoken rather than just reading it, so I figured I would give reading my own poems aloud a shot. In addition to the reading I uploaded of Frozen Ponderings, I’ve made one for A Flawless Fabrication.

A Flawless Fabrication

We were lying in the grass together,
Gazing up at the spill of stars across the obsidian sky
With our fingers carelessly intertwined
And our hearts engaged in a modest foxtrot,
No sense of time passing,
Only the melody of the moon:
Thousands of insects harmonizing under the crescent glow;
Light languidly dripping from the heavens
Landed on the earth around us as fireflies,
And the cool summer breeze
Encouraged us to seek warmth from each other.

The only way it could have been more perfect,
Is if it had actually happened.

A Reading of Frozen Ponderings

Frozen Ponderings

Smoky grey tendrils of warmth creep from
deep within my lungs and escape
into the surrounding frost until
they are lost, swirling away into the icy air
as my hair is misted with crystals.

Is this breath the only distinction
between the biting cold death that awaits
in nature’s frozen château
and the flow of hot blood indubitably
indicating my life?

Naked silhouetted tree limbs sway
in the moon’s silvery light, and as the wind dances
the cold fingers on their branches reach out
imploringly, to touch my cheek
with whispered queries of their own.

Throwback Poetry

Okay, it’s about time I posted something… even if it is ridiculously embarrassing. I’ve decided to share some very old poems I wrote way back when I was a little baby sophomore in high school. Four years ago, during the 2008/2009 school year, we did a segment on poetry in my English class. Here is the, admittedly awful, result.


Looking out over the edge,
Like the autumn leaves in the wind
Thoughts swirling in my head,
Toes gripping the rocky sand,
Remembering the initial urge,
Forgetting nervous fears,
A rush of adrenaline takes over,
My thoughts are silenced
As my heartbeat fills my ears,
Like the pounding of a drum,
Steady and strong until
The release,
Anxious skips replace the beat,
As I freefall down,
Down into nothingness,
Only empty space and cool air
Rushing over my body,
A shiver builds up,
And it’s finished with a splash,
Suddenly submerged
Into the icy wet landing,
And I am human again.

Blue Flames

Blue flames dance behind his eyes,
Green light blazes behind hers,
Colors collide to make a screaming eruption,
Their eyes meet for the first time,
Two heartbeats speed up,
Hers throbbing perfectly in time with his,
His trying to keep a steady pace,
In their secret unknown rhythm.
Streams of crimson rush,
Racing to accentuate her cheeks,
His insides twist and flutter,
She melts at his smile,
And a need is formed within both,
Creating a dilemma.
Her fingers are longing to struggle free,
Wishing to be released
From the hand she is already holding,
An emptiness forms in her heart,
A space only blue flames could fill,
And she walks on,
Leaving what would complete her behind.

Sand Songs

You were sand slipping through my fingers,
There for a moment
But always disappearing,
I was leaves on a tree,
Forever returning to your grasp,
I sat idle and waiting,
While you disposed of many hearts,
Searching for one to make yours sing,
To add harmony to your melody.
But your heart was always singing too loudly
To hear a quiet harmony,
Perfectly in tune
With your everything,
I was the unknown partner to your beautiful duet.
Sifting sands turned still
And a tree sprouted up,
Now you are the leaves of this tree,
Forever requiring nourishment
From my sunlight,
But I am sand slipping through your fingers,
No longer returning to your grasp,
Searching for a new harmony
For my melody,
To complete my duet.

Capricious Concord

Cold sky leaked in through frosted panes,
Gently pouring its glow into the empty chamber.

A crow moaned inharmoniously,
Severing the soft hush of the atmosphere’s breath.

Her uncovered toes flirted with the shingled edge,
Shimmering strands dancing about her face.

Dark eyes watched from within the willow,
Whose pale jade limbs flickered nervously in the wind.

The air begged for companions as a distant clock sounded,
Persuading two dissimilar creatures to take flight.

Leafy fingers flittered in discreet protest;
Crumbs of asphalt littered the earth below.

Black feathered sails floated along the cloudy current,
Hovering high above a fragile and broken doll.