When I describe the air in the current season I never have the words to Articulate This feeling
A Season To Be Thankful
ready to be cut
Or perhaps molded into a maze for the little ones
Full of spice and flavor for you to smell
Or maybe just to be severed for your porch
Is crisp, refreshing
When you say “it’s nice outside,” this is to what you refer
Is nippy, full
On the edge of Sweaters
On days I have time I like to lay in the center of the field after practice and breathe
The air restores my soul, my hope
If nothing else, I love
IF NOTHING ELSE I LOVE
and maybe you:)
Extension of my last poem
The dormancy of my linguistics,
doesn't mean I'm ignorant.
But I jest at the wastefulness
To expel the fortitude of such.
Anger is to give me weakness
of character, and you undue
I may seem like the sheep,
but do not take my
muteness, as a respite of no validation.
For one is most aware when all is smothered
And then you are like a crumpled leaf,
silent and calm....
I didn't utter a word, I just walked away.
letting you take in the view
of me not caring that you were in my shadow.
Not uttering your worth, but I showed you
that silence can knock down the
The leaf spreads
lungs of the earth
cloaking summer skies
from squinting eyes
but does it live for
that one gentle flight
of autumn, floating
to the ground
a few brief moments
Though time is rather fleeting
I don't know why I'm sleeping
the days away.
And can you see the sunrise
above the horizon?
I find myself swaying.
Away with the breeze.
Flowing with the leaves.
I find myself traveling across the sea
just a discarded leaf
with no destiny.
It has been a hot minute since I posted here. I've had a rough September so far. I suffered an allergic reaction to some food and I have never had food allergies before. That put me out of it for a little bit. I'm also just struggling with my mental health again. I'm trying to do my job, keep up with everyday tasks but I feel it all slipping away from me.
The sun burns and so do I
What use in complaining is there?
Leaves turn to dust
Stone will become mud
If I would be born again
I'd be a humble leaf.
Leaves, when they fall in time,
do not break.
And there wouldn't be too much sadness,
but just peace.
maybe if we would really look, even the silent falling of the leaves might show us something deeper than how deep they fall unto