There is an elephant sitting on my windowsill
Trunk poised toward the rising sun
Its stance, ready for movement
yet frozen in place.
Pride emanating from the recycled paper that shapes it
Strength breathing in and out of its material lungs
How simple, how easy, how apathetic
Yet how intricate, how detailed, how steadfast
Its empty eyes have seen rain and snow
Storm and still
Its ears lacking the parts to hear the whispers and shouts
But ready anyways, waiting for the bits of noise to trickle through
The elephant on my windowsill
So peaceful and so calm
From a lifeless shell, it bursts with vitality.
Jun 19, 2014
Jun 19, 2014 at 10:28 PM UTC
I want to grow old
Surrounded by the yellowing pages of my favorite stories
Kept company by the histories of the epics
And the imaginations of the classics
I want to trade pieces of the newspaper
With an older version of a summer love
As we sit in matching, worn out chairs
With a sleeping lab at our feet
I want to write poems on the porch
Encased by nothing but wooden slats below and stars above
Penning down the thoughts
Inspired by the curves of the mountains
I want to grow old
Gazing out at the world
I've lived a life to see and experience
Reminding myself of the memories
Through the literature I've collected
May 18, 2014
May 18, 2014 at 11:10 PM UTC
Top of the mountain
legs a little weaker than at the bottom
but they burn with a deep understanding of the cracks,
the crevices,
the rocks
you had to climb to get here.
Dad said when you hit the top you could see the heavens
but there is no God here
save for the tranquility,
the peacefulness,
the absolute stillness
of an ancient and graceful piece of rising rock and land.
Built by the winds and a deep understanding of the globe,
well before a piece of omnipotent divinity could find it,
standing the test of time,
the test of faith,
this peak remains for your feet to climb.
To discover the greater resiliences of the world
unrestricted by humanity's prayers.
May 16, 2014
May 16, 2014 at 2:17 PM UTC
The high I have when you're near
I need no substance to feel a kick
The butterflies have got me floating with sobriety
Yet you have no mercy as you barrel through my feelings
The territory we fight over is no land, no Texas
It is a heart, one I am not willing to give up
Yet you are so eager to claim
Your guns are your gazes, your smiles, your whispers
I am outnumbered
My heart has little protection
I am a prisoner with my Goliad heart
So now that you've got it,
Now that you're holding my vulnerability in your hands
Please don't order an execution
Please don't order massacre now that you've won
We remember the Alamo
We remember Goliad
But who will remember my heart if you break it?
Apr 29, 2014
Apr 29, 2014 at 5:51 PM UTC
It is cold in this car
Your breath makes firework shaped gaps
on the ice encrusted on the inner windshield
We wait for the heat to kick in
I'm already buckled up, nested between strap and seat
You're not though
You instead wait until you've eased out the clutch
Hand leaving first gear
Gliding it into second
Only then does the seat belt go on
The buckle only clicking between gears
between stall or movement
between possibilities
Jan 24, 2014
Jan 24, 2014 at 6:54 PM UTC
The ceiling is not completely flat
and the walls crack where the earth shows signs of life
old paint is seldom seen
but hidden at the edges of cabinets
the doors creek
the oven swells
the windows let too much air in during winter
and too much sun in during summer
But its bones
the very being of this home
they are beautiful
they've seen life and death
they've seen flood and snow storm
the inner workings of a home filled with memories
no matter how cold or how hot
no matter how much they creak
these bones hold together a home
a home which i love
a home which stands the test of time
Jan 7, 2014
Jan 7, 2014 at 11:12 PM UTC
1 year
11 months
10 days
that which separates you from me
that which connects us to each other
oh little brother
how you've grown
we've run and screamed
and scraped our knees
shedding similar blood on the grass
which grows green with every new summer
i've protected you
and you've comforted me
when the dog died
when the parents fought
superheroes, not one greater than the other
invincible little boy and girl
facing the world with bright, hopeful eyes
it's come to a point where my cape of youth
must be shed
but don't lose yours just yet
there are greater things separating us now than just age
remember
do not let my fickle worries cause you haste
do not let my growing up cause you to,
not yet
live for me in youth
dawn your cape another day
and i'll pave a path for you to walk
when it's time
oh little brother,
don't grow up quite yet
with love,
your sister.
Jan 7, 2014
Jan 7, 2014 at 10:54 PM UTC
An old friend with a greying beard.
His eyes gaze over his spectacles
at the watch too big for his aging wrists.
Always knowing when and where
but still waiting with a clever air of unknowing.
Nov 28, 2012
Nov 28, 2012 at 2:52 PM UTC
Would it be simpler to be frozen? Forever in a state of solidarity.
Like a painting, finding rest on the comfort of a canvas, blanketed by the colors of the universe.
Or eternally hanging in the sky, twinkling among brethren.
Perhaps a colder version of frozen, like a piece of Alps gazing over the world. Never needing to shiver.
Worries would subsist with the movements of life. I suppose it would be simpler.
But what would be the fun in that?
Nov 28, 2012
Nov 28, 2012 at 2:29 PM UTC
There will be times when the storms in the ocean seem to swell;
When the skies above darken and the whispers start to yell
When you feel like the only soul left in this world,
And the corner is refuge to your weakened body curled
I'll tell you now, sweet child of the early and free years,
Those rosy cheeks of yours will become home to many tears.
And the sad times will seem too big for your little eyes.
But whenever you feel lost, just look to the skies.
Broken hearts will come and go like the seasons
And troubles will come on occasion, lacking reasons.
But we come from a long line of strong hearts,
And these bad times and sad times are all beautiful parts
Of the astounding and wonderful life you've yet to live.
So don't cry now, but think of what you have now to give
In a world that sometimes seems a little dark and a little grim,
Fill it will love, and hope: happiness stuffed to the brim.
So little girl of the past:
This world is so vast,
And filled with little time
So please, remember this rhyme
And wipe your tears little child
And I'll look back on this day, as one when you smiled.
Love Always,
Meghan
Nov 27, 2012
Nov 27, 2012 at 11:15 PM UTC