Happy Monday Everyone! I wrote two poems in the past few days that I was kinda pumped about. So looks like there may have to be two progress updates this week! As always, I hope you enjoy! and any feedback is always appreciated!
A Giant Named Paul
Just how it started
no magic or beans
no crunching on children
or munching on spleens
but a walk in the woods
only to find
a monstrous log cabin
covered in vines
I peeked through the window
and the things that I saw
all seemed so little
next to a giant named Paul
Curious I was
so I knocked on the door
his footsteps like thunder
shattering the floor
I stood in the entrance
my head at his shins
he extended an arm
and said, “won’t you come in?”
“what are you doing
in this neck of the woods?
your not trembling in terror
like other men would”
“I’m sorry to bother
I’m sure you’re busy and all
but I have so many questions
for a man ten feet tall”
He chuckled and grinned
then reclined in his chair
“I can answer few questions
I think that that’s fair”
Before I could inquire
or part my thin lips
he opened his mouth
and said, “but let me say this”
“We giants are humble
not like in your books
we enjoy simple treasures
despite how we look
We don’t feed on children
that’s all in bad taste
we don’t smash or mash bones
into glue, goo, or paste
but come in for tea
and we’ll serve you some hot
and let you decide
whether you like us or not
You may leave as you please
but we hope that you stay for a while
for every guest we receive
we return with a smile
So tell me,” he said
“What more can I say
to answer your questions
on this fine day?”
But I stood on my feet
and he grinned back at me
“No more questions” I said
but I’d love that cup of tea.
Untitled
Color glides down a canvas square
not enough time to dry
fingertips trace the translucent moon
She paints a castle in the sky
her tears turn purples to murky dark blue
her lips spread pinks and gold
a silhouette stains the breath of warm air
before the summer sands turn cold
her pores flow forth a stream of fair luster
encasing amber brown skin
the clouds, she parts with the tip of her tongue
as the chill of dusk slowly creeps in
fingernails leave trails of ash and black
as she outlines the barren hills
against a water colored horizon
a shutter from nerve rippling chills
Wind rushes its palms against the heavens
the dye clings to the morning heat
she brushes off her knees and stands to depart
her masterpiece is complete
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