Here comes the night life.
Yellow lights spill all over main street,
But the dim, blue sky takes its sweet time to leave.

Hands delicately scale a piano
as the drum leads in it's sporadic fills.
The trumpets burst and pop
while a saxophone glides softly.

The people sit and chat
While their cups are emitting swirling steams.
The faces brightly lit
by store windows and neon open signs.

My poems hide in my morning cup of coffee.
In good hair days.
In nights without homework.
In the little victories of life.

My poems hide in board games while camping.

My poems hide in falling of a horse, but getting back on.

My poems hide in crazy and untraditional habits.
In rearranging and organizing my bedroom.
In summer trips to the emergency room.
In the dents, bruises, and scars that I seem to collect.

My poems hide in compliments from strangers.

My poems hide in the eyes of animals who have grown up alongside of me.

My poems hide in moments spent with my best friends.
In sleepovers in the motorhome outside my house.
In Tulip Time parades twirling my baton.

My poems hide in the embrace of a long-distance friend.

My poems hide in my parents, and in the times they are proud of me.

My poems hide in the memories I’ve made.
In mission trips where 9-Square and hacky-sack are the main pastimes.
In seashell hunting on a clean, white beach.
In being a queen in the eighth grade show.

My poems hide in the trips that I take.
In the adventures I have in ordinary settings.
In the twenty four hour ride to Florida.
In the states I have yet to visit.

My poems hide in my relationship with God.

My poems hide in all the beautiful, trivial things around me.

My poems are constantly hiding, waiting, begging to be discovered.

The wisdom is held tightly,
swaddled in opinion.
The trains of though race,
with a hot coal that burns.

Burns and pounds
and the weapon's locked away.
Writhing and screaming,
but a silence counts the seconds on the clock.

Clock's that move quickly,
but slowly runs the time.
The gunpowder finds the match:
Smithereens of impressions scattered on the floor.

The works that are spoken,
and meant to fix the broken,
are launched into a crowd.

Words upon heart,
but I’m drifting apart,
from an auditorium chair.

They say every verse that is read
goes in and out my head,
and I feel a dearth of knowledge.

But found by the trees,
are my words of ease,
spoken straight from His mouth.

A blue sky set before me,
the meadow of perfect grass,
I sit and wallow in a sweet wisdom.

It’s the thorn to a rose
the taste of vanilla
or an unripe apple

It’s a perfectly sharp pencil
crumbling
in the middle of a test

It’s the first jump into a cold lake
and the goosebumps
from the icy wind

Friends,
Think not of terror in the night
Of wayward wandering careless fright.
Think not of hatred in the morn,
Of owness lost and past left scorn.
Think not of guilts
Dead to the wind,
Think not of ills
You've beaten still.
Think not of the spectres of your mind,
Of days destroyed, of thought decline.
Think not of angels
Escort the dead.
Think not of challenges, haunt ahead.
Think not of blanket
Bleaching sorrow.
Think not of heartache soared tomorrow.
Think not of panic in the dark,
Of where your friends and foes reside,
Of what they say or what they mind,
Or whether they think you cruel or kind.
Think instead,
Of all you are.
Of where you've come from,
Crawled this far.
Think of your talents,
Of your shine,
Think of the world in terms of rhyme.
Think not of fear, of mindless dread, of panic ransacked
Quaking head.
Think all too clear of love itself.
Of simple life in raging health.
Never question what you are,
But freely count the fading scars.
Question malice, idle, stubborn, judging hearts,
Question tired cynics,
Mouthing barbs to better grow into themselves,
Question injustice, and condemn to swell
All those who'd dare
To make you shrink into a lesser, hardened shell.
Never wind your steps back over tread,
Already stepped.
Hold firm and fast
White knuckle raging burning grasp
Your fingers to the rail
And grimace menace
To all that failed


To break you.