Composed 4/2/16
Description: Today the wind was absolutely crazy. For NaPoWriMo Day 2.
wind
Voices in the Rain
Composed 6/8/15
Description: n/a
The howls of the lonely call to me
They groan in the thunder
They sigh in the sea
They tap at my window and long for me
As if I could ever set them free
The Song
Composed 5/27/15
Description: For now at least it is a beautiful day, and I am sitting out on my deck enjoying the sun and the ceaseless sound of wind rushing through the trees… resulting in this poem. Fun fact: this is my first time posting to my blog from my phone!
The wind roars
It sings to me
The most beautiful of songs
Uplifting melodies of hope
Drowning out all thought
I can only marvel
At its whispers, its crescendos
It sings of running, adventures, sunlight
It pushes me to dreams unknown
I’m a child of the wind
I long to hear its voice
So when it calls I escape
To a quiet place
And listen
It’s a Different Place at Night
Composed 1/6/15
Description: n/a
There’s something about the cold
The howling of relentless wind
Through the silhouette of trees in the openness
And the gray blue mist of night
Of listening and watching while trapped huddling inside
That makes me feel as if
I’ve travelled across the ocean to a place I’ve never been
A new lonely adventure
April is Full of Contradictions
Alternative Title: What is it About April?
Composed: 4/16/13
Description: A light-hearted little poem today, which, though written a few days ago, perfectly describes today: stereotypically springtime gorgeous, but with a chance of severe thunderstorms tonight. This poem also describes a strange phenomenon: I always tend to pump out a LOT of writing in April. Disproportionally more so than the rest of the year. What is it about April…?
Cold wind
Warm Sun
A slave to school
But almost done
Dawn your flip flops
But pack your boots
Eighty degrees
But downpours soon
And barricade
The library doors
So you can raise
Your final scores
And on your breaks
Plan your fun
For books and papers
Are almost done
Betwixt the sun
And rain and wind
And mounds of tests
Almost at end
Words fall
Disproportionately
From my fingers
Easily
What is it about
April
The month of contradictions
Scraps of Paper 