well for eleven days... i can't wait for the red rocks and the hours of hiking and walking through the tiny town i missed it last year after this, we didn't go back to school this year, we are i hope
probably not gonna be active until next week sorry :)
Stood by the window
in the heart of the glare, her feet bare on the cold floor, with a much colder stare, there she is. never out of words on days it's his breath taken away, what else is to expect from someone right out of a Shakespearean play, there she is. Dressed in blood red one day she'll wed, he hangs by a thread, the clocks may run out he'll never be done, every thousandth look is the same as the first one, there she is.
Her hair burned a radiant red
The curls wrapped around my heart
Stars always became tangled in her hair when she played in the sky.
They twinkled like glitter on her skin when she stood beneath the red, hot sun and glowed in the darkness of his shadow.
This isn't really a poem. It's more like a pretty thought. It was written in 2016.
I draw with silver 'till it turns red
Not on surface, but in depth I draw in time, in life, in motion I draw in pain and create art
The first verse is inspired form a tik tok lol
an icicle broke off from the gutter of my porch, stabbing my hydrangea bush right in the heart. i could reprimand the shattered remains of an icy spear, and then bandage the wound with a layer of snow– yet it occurs to me to maybe quarter an apple with a Swiss Army knife, this pooling of thoughts like pale blood seeping out of a painfully frozen morning— turning me white like heavy frost over so many early roses... s jones 2021 .
07 Feb 2021
Staid on the porch rail, Was forbidden in the parlor. First frost arrived, Enrobing petals in velvet, Crimson thick and skin softened, Bewildering. Those who stroll by Behold, But not take — Who could handle The scentless spectacle Spoiling inside? A private decay in a white blanket tomb, A fading in a deafened hollow. Next year the neighbor will plant New roses to surrender.
Flowers and pain, a down- pour of rain.
Coffee in a cup, far too hot. Reds and blues and greens, fields of flowers creating a colourful scene.