Pandora’ s Box

She had a box

She kept inside,

Of wishes,


And magical things,

Of things she longed for

and things she thought

would never happen,

But she kept them anyway,

knowing them,

like a list on the back of her hand,

never really believing

That any would come true,

But hoping for them anyway.



Trust Fall

It wasn’t that she trusted herself

To fly,

it was that she trusted

Him enough to fall into His arms,

knowing that regardless

Of how far she fell,

He would always catch her.


Sidewalk Soul

The cracks inside her soul went deep,

some going further than they seemed,

but each time it rained

the flowers grew

between the lines

of her sidewalk soul,

making her smile

at the seeds

that planted them there.




Photo Credit: <a href=””>Kenny_lex</a&gt; Flickr via <a href=””>Compfight</a&gt; <a href=””>cc</a&gt;

Light Years Away

The fire in her eyes burned bright,

But like the stars

The light took time

To reach the eyes of those

Who looked at her,

And it often went unnoticed

By those who only gazed,

Without getting to know

The constellations.


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Same Mountains as You

Broken at His Feet

I wish I could take it all away

And bottle it up in jars of clay,

All the tears And all the pain,

Stored away on the top shelf,

Out of reach from human hands,

Or felt by human hearts,

But what these jars contain

Is much more than what we think,

And would be wasted If left sitting on the shelf,

We carry them with us,

We carry them in us,

Always for a higher purpose

Than what our teary eyes can see,

Broken before a King,

All the content falling apart Before

His feet.


If a Tree Lands in the Forest…

Silent? No.

She wasn’t silent,

She was a thousand trees,

falling in a thousand forests,

With her head in the clouds,

just waiting to come down.

With no one around

To hear her land.


Autumn Sighs

I wander if Autumn ever gets scared,

Knowing it will soon

Loose it’s splendor

In submission to the changing

Breathe of Winter,

Or if it welcomes it with open arms,

In surrender of the change,

Knowing that it’s time has passed

And that it must move on,

Delivering itself to the desolate

Wonder that lies ahead.

Or if it sighs not wanting to give in

To the beauty that it knows is waiting,

Because it would mean losing

Something first.


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Sleep Among Thorns

I want to hide among the thorns

Like a wildflower,

With no expectation,

Kissing the sky,

So desperate for only

One’s attention.


People Are Poetry

I want to be poetic,

Not in the sense that I want to

Write poetry.

I want to sit by a fog filled window,

With a cup of coffee,

Staring out into the rainy afternoon

Or the morning sunrise.

Not moving nor doing anything

Of consequence,

Just existing,

Breathing quietly as if I did so any

Louder I would wake the world

From its eternal slumber.

My lips,

sipping the hot liquid wrapped

Around my finger tips,

Watching the world as if it almost

Refuses to exist,

As if I am not my own,

As if I am looking at me from

The outside in,

Like a little piece of poetry.