Over the hill life is a place far from here,
Where there is no sadness and darkness within.
Over the hill is a magical place,
With nymphs and fairies
All and divine.
Over the hill beauty is apparent.
Big brilliant sky’s,
And meadows of green.
Flowers in bloom
And ones in between.
Big trees
And rivers that flow,
Right between the bushes and forests.
Over the hill there is solitude.
No...
Find me down the garden path,
By boiling sand,
Where there is not a hair
Of loss or despair.
Find me by the blossoms
With tulips so bright
Like fireflies,
Filling up the night.
Bring me your secrets
And I’ll keep them safe.
No one will know,
But me and this place.
The wind won’t whisper it,
Not even a breath,
Because In the garden path,
My heart lives in fire.
Singing songs of dire...
If wishes fell like rain, then certainly I am a storm.
Fulfillment runs like streams,
With the hope of any dream.
The wind whispers things,
The even I know cannot be seen.
But if I didn’t know any better I would say
Even the puddles have no secrets what am I
If not okay.
Thunder booms the beginning of a bloom,
Full of ice and flowers.
Lighting shining,
Creating dashes that are blinding....
I stretch in the grass,
My hands lay flat,
Flowers smell like sweet perfume,
And even the wind blows away my fume.
My fingers stretch apart,
They slide without fault upon the grass,
Curling up and falling down.
My arms curve above my head
Like a I’m holding up the land.
My legs stretch down,
And my neck curves around,
Around at the sky and
Around as I lie.
The land stretches on fart...
Wind through the woods,
Empty and full as I breath,
In and out creating a breeze.
I feel empty and giddy,
And full and weighted.
But with every light that goes out,
Darkness hisses and wells,
But does not overcome.
My thoughts spread but my feet don’t fled.
My fear and bravery are one,
That is who I become.
That is what it is.
Wind through the woods is my hope.
My love and my losses. ...
Tall grass wavers
As I pave the way through a long long field
On a bike.
Wildflowers smell,
Of rain and grass.
Down a hill to a stream,
That comes from a small waterfall.
Trees grow their long limbs,
And stretch out like reaching arms.
Metal overrun my grass is rusted and
Warn out.
Logs and leaves litter the ground,
As I scramble back up the hill.
Again I ride, back the way I came,
Bu...
My Mary janes click on the cement as I walk through a misty path. The mist smells good. It smells fresh and like rain.
The big abandoned house sits tall. A light flickers in one of the windows.
I open the door and it creaks loudly. The floor creaks to as I set my foot on it. Creaking steps come from upstairs.
Slowly I walk up the stairs and into the room where the candle was. The...
the memories of longing reached for her under a cloudless sky
a sky she now chased but was once a guy
a guy who didn’t miss her
who didn’t cherish her
a guy who could never love her the way she loved him
but now that was over
the pain started to wane into only a memory
far away and hard to reach
but sometimes she still felt the longing for the chase
for the pain, love, and heartbreak
of l...
December 20, 1992
Dear friend,
I know I haven’t written to you a while because I have been trying to participate more. I’ve met more friends and have been trying to be as social as I can.
Last night two of my new friends came over for dinner. My mom cooked and we all sat around the dinner table. After we ate we watched a movie.
Even though she had been gone for a while, it stil...
