linnea-dee
Whisper
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Dry Lightning (In Progress)
This poem took three weeks to write. / Actually, this poem took three weeks to begin. Three weeks of picking up my pen and waiting, thoughts swirling, for something to become ink on the anxious page in front of me. / And when it finally did begin, it didn't grow like a seedling, reaching wide-eyed towards the sun, vibrant and lush and increasingly more green.
26
Jun 22, 2013
Untitled, 23 February 2013
Among dust bunnies collecting on the carpet of her bedroom are lullabies, matted into the seashell shaped ridges by eager toes. / Other mothers sing Rockabye Baby, but hers crooned the crash of ocean waves and the ballads of mermaids. / Memories like those sent shivers down her spine, cold fingered fairies dispatched to walk the tightrope of each nerve, triggering flashbacks of moment after moment.
16
Jun 20, 2013
Out of Character
It's easy to write about warm people. It's simple to just let their love and compassion flow effortlessly out into the world. They stumble upon the perfect one, THE one, and fall in love even if they don't know it. And for a while they don't, because that's the beauty of it. They don't know, and then suddenly they do and they realize that they're complete and whole now, that they've found someone who fills the cracks in their soul. / It would not be so easy to write about someone who flat out refuses to admit that they are not already complete. Then he appeared. I couldn't see him, but I knew he was there. Oh, this is a game then, I thought. I'll see what I can figure out about you. / I'm Isaac.
9
Jun 20, 2013
Respect the Writer
Let your mind flow. / Let the thoughts swirl. / Let your words come out of nowhere.
13
Jun 20, 2013
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