Fall Night
I gaze at the fall night sky I lie down in the cold grass Close my eyes Breathing slowly I imagine I am a falling leaf I float in twirl in the slow breeze I...
Poems
Poetry and verse from young voices
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I gaze at the fall night sky
I lie down in the cold grass
Close my eyes
Breathing slowly
I imagine I am a falling leaf
I float in twirl in the slow breeze
I open my eyes stand up I look
Around and all I see are bare
Trees and fallen leaves
I lie back down and stare at the
Fall night sky
I see you in a bowl
Tantalizing me.
I pick you up
Your smoothness
Goes unnoticed
As I cut you into quarters
Eagerly trying to get to
Your ripeness.
You are a red jewel case
With red jewels inside you,
Shimmering
Like drops of blood.
I take one jewel
I put it to my lips
I smell nothing
But taste the
Heavenliness
Sweetness
Deliciousness
Of the
Red pomegranate.
I shut the door behind me
Exasperated and overwhelmed
And start walking briskly
As I walk
I hear crickets chirping like a marching band
I hear leaves crunching under me
Soothing me over my bad day at school
I feel the cool, fresh air across my face
As I walk forward
I smell the sweet smell of the nighttime dew
Just like after a rainy day
I slowly inch forward daydreaming
Feeling like I am on the t...
A carpet of sand melts into a sea of blue whipped cream
I inhale the golden scent of joy
Like syrup on my tongue
The seagulls’ voices are wind chimes in the warm
summer air
They call to the sea and the sky
I reach out my fingers to touch the sunset
And wrap it around my shoulders like a coat
Our last night was a joyful one
Yet dread waited, a heavy fog
As we both knew it had to end.
The next sight of each other
Would be like
Pixilated building blocks.
Seated under the rosy sky
Her laugh the flutter of a jay’s wings
The wind’s small sigh.
I look at him
My dog
Head on tiny white paws,
Breathing heavily.
He looks back at me
His eyes sad
As if to say, “Come to me,”
So I do.
Then I
Stroke his head quietly
And he closes his eyes,
His breathing deep
Raspy
And tired.
He is small, sick, and old
But right now he is with me.
So I give him a kiss
And let him snore.
I can capture
a bird’s flight,
a mountain’s splendor,
a tiger’s roar.
My pen
marks the crisp
white paper
like footprints
on a snowy trail.
My dreams
are alive,
and leaping
like sparks
in my hands.
To dream is to speak
a thousand words
and never speak at all.
In my dreams,
I fly
like a
new bird,
like the quiet
of the storm.
She left before the sun came up.
I didn’t have a chance to say goodbye.
Goodnight;
I love you.
The last words spoken between us
The suitcase had been packed that night.
Button-up shirts,
Silky and soft.
A warm embrace;
The smell of roses.
I’ll be back before Sunday, she had said.
It was a Friday morning.
A small road trip,
A six-hour drive,
A harmless once-in-a-life opportunity.
Under the gray sky
In a dreary meadow,
One with the trees and fallen leaves.
A raven flies overhead
And the cold north winds
Start to creep in.
But in between two oaks is where they lie.
Once flourishing and lush, just like this meadow.
Shriveled up, facing down
With a pile of petals
Upon the ground.
It is silent.
Skeletons of trees.
A lonely crow shrieks.
And is gone in a black smudge,
Erased from the sky.
The air is cold melted silver,
Each breath freezes and falls,
Then shatters on the ground.
Blades of grass cocooned in frost,
Crackle when you step on them.
The last leaf falls,
A drop of orange on the white sheet.
Winter is here.