Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
May 2013 · 494
Haiku, The First
Avery Ballotta May 2013
The smiling faces

are getting me through this life,

full of sleepless nights.
Avery Ballotta Sep 2012
The time has come,

Night must fall.

A softened chill,

Sweeps over all.

The stars come out,

And start to glisten.

Silence rings,

For those who listen.

The Flower sits calmly,

Closing to rest.

Just as the Moon,

Reveals its crest.

An uncanny connection,

The feeling of Love.

‘tween the Flower below,

And the Moon up above.

With beams of light,

The Moon does proclaim.

It’s love for this being,

Fragile and tame.

But no matter how thin, 

The petals may seem.

To this sweet Flower, 

‘Tis but a dream.

I can tell you however,

though the Sun offers kisses.

It is the Moon, dear friends,

The Flower truly misses.
Aug 2012 · 834
On A Summer Afternoon
Avery Ballotta Aug 2012
In the park
sits the Man
with his box
in his hand

The Woman
draped gracefully
next to him

Frail they may be
his fingers
sing three

Of the songs
from within
his heart.

The Woman wriggles
and dances
and calls out with glee

To the passers
she says
"Have you heard such a thing?"

The Man hears
her sighs
with a gleam
in his eyes

He plays
his three songs
for She.
Jul 2012 · 1.0k
OpenSpaces
Avery Ballotta Jul 2012
Nothing.

Blank.

Unwritten.

For now.

All that is seen is unreal. Or perhaps unrealized.

Shadows in the forefront of my forged habitat do not reflect the foreshadowing of my future.

Being so heavy on my heart, like an elevator car hanging wildly from my bruised shoulders.

Home.

The serene canvas that cradles the impetus of all my sudden impulses of comfort.

Now.

Trusted by the heart to hold itself, the frigid sound in the air surrounding, grips tighter than imagined.

Unable to catch a breath, but unable to fall out of reach.

Pushing up with hands, so much my own, they are hardly recognizable.

The world trembles while I stand.

On my knees, and as always, on my toes.

Balancing on the cracks in the Pavement as if I was but a child.

Alas.

For now, a child but I am.

Unwritten, a man.

Blank, a new canvas to count time.

Nothing, will stop me.

-A.B.

— The End —