Inspiration

Inspiration doesn't come with a kick, Nor does is it come like whip. Inspiration is nothing like A blow from a baseball bat... Rather it's like the most gentle of gifts. A quick "here you go"... A silent idea. No punching, no screaming, No yelling loud. Only a whisper, No dark, stormy clouds.

The Metaphor

It's like stretching your legs after a day stuck in the car.
It's like the light than shines through after a long night's rest.
It's the song of sound after waking up from being deaf.
It's what happens when you give life your best.

Stop giving up and let it begin.
Just come on, and let the light in.

Stay

All I need is just a word,

Hold me tight and say it soft;

Promise you won't let the wind

Carry me away. 

I'll take the sarcasm and the tears,

If you promise to take my fears.

We can stay together against the storm;

You just have to tell me now.

Now or never, let it out.

Will you be there through it all,

Or you already on your way out?

Living

Love.
Love lives.
Loves lives inside the brilliant sunrise
Created especially for
Us.
It lives in the grace;
That which we receive and never deserve,
And in the mercy;
That which we deserve but will not receive.
Love is found in sacrifice,
In trust,
In praise,
In celebration.
And love lives.

Banana Sunshine

It's the kind of soft yellow
Banana sunshine
That filters through the window
In the early dawn of summer
And sets everything inside
On golden sunshine fire,
Fiery but not hot, rather
A cool, misty fire
That warms the eyes.

Something Lacking

When something is lacking
is usually easy to tell.
A slip, a miss, a little less than bliss
Like a broken perfect spell.
It's easy to see when its missing,
The magic that used to be there;
Creativity, love, passion, hope,
All suddenly become something quite rare.
But more obvious than that is lacking,
Is when it has been given anew:
When the light once more shines in darkened eyes,
A a smile becomes one flashing of few.

What Do You Do?

What do you do when there's no time left?
No time to say goodbye,
No time to tell your heart
It's over, please don't cry.

How do you take a moment
When there are none left to take?
Can you ever command the clock
To stop a second, take break?

You can't, you can't stop time!
There is just no way.
So take a moment now to let it out,
And just go ahead and SAY

The Ups and Downs; Morning Night

Sometimes when the evening comes
And quiets all the world,
When trees drape themselves in shadow
And wind their hanging leaves had twirled,
When the sky is blooming with dark flowers
That seek to wrap up all the sky,
There seems to be a whisper riding
Upon the whirling winds up high,
A whisper of the morning secrets
That promise to come in time
But not many hear the future;
They only hear the climb.

Post-Sunset

The Man will try to wonder at every
Passing cloud. Give it meaning
Give it life, make it something that it's not.
Deliver it to the world with hidden messages
Piping hot. And then they want to twist the
Cloud to fit their point of view,
Without ever asking the cloud
What it wants to do, or even checking to see
If it has breath. Maybe one day the cloud
Will just rebel and stretch and morph
And rain down upon the world.

Books

Who said that books were monstrosities?!
Not I, oh no, not me!
Who said that words were a silly old waste
and that it's pointless to sit down and read?
You didn't hear this from me, oh no!,
Must have been someone else...
For I appreciate all that they are
And praise their trueness heart-felt.

Friday Nights

No one really knows each other
But when we gather round
We're a roaring crowd
A growling beast
Prowling all around.
With clapping hands
In ice cold wind
In frozen bleachers in the sky,
We raise our hands and raise our voice
Until our throats are dry.
Together we all join in
Even if we're strangers.
But here and now, as we cheer aloud
We're a family ready to fight until
The Victory.
So clap your hands
And stand up tall
And cheer away tonight.
The past four years of Friday nights
Have been something special.
But tonight the last
By far has passed
Them all and stands the greatest.

The Race

Hands are chapped and rosy red

as fingers slide across the keys

But there is no break, no respite, no rest

Rather a race through lettered-streets.

Time slows down and speeds back up,

Until there's no time at all.

Only the click click click of typing keys

When fingers start to fall.

But this monotonous, monstrous turmoil

Is only bad in thought;

Sitting at the filling screen

Is never done for naught.

It's done for the last few seconds

As the words THE END appear,

And nothing ever can overcome the joy

That comes when the finish line is cleared.

november

the steam rising from the ceramic
mug on the kitchen counter
floats through the tepid air
and the sound of cars rushing by

fills the silence. the hum of lightbulbs
hides behind like music never-ending and
their dim glow fills the room on the
early morning. the windows are frosty

with the mist rising from the grass
and the bitter chill of the mornings that slide
between the late, dying fall and the winter
coming after. there is no season now

no season but the cold, but not the frozen
kind of cold that kills everything and takes
away every breath of heat; no, it is the
cold that is only dipping its toes in the water,

getting a glimpse of the power of its chill.
it is the cold that tugs on a heart and tugs
on the last, hanging leaves on the bare branches
and eats away at the last bit of green in the

misty grass. and the cold doesn't pervade through
everything yet. it merely seeps into the walls,
but not the house. the sky, but not the lungs.
the cold that is crisp, hesitant, but ready.

and soon this halfway weather will
with a whip of the wind, gain courage and
explode across the clouds, freezing over
all the air and letting the chill

embed itself in everything. and then winter
will be crossing our doorstep and the
mornings will no longer be slightly cold
and then the ceramic coffee mug will really steam.

Firecracker Fall Leaves

Fire-cracker fall leaves go
Exploding from the trees,
Bursting left and shooting right
As they spontaneously lose their green.
Red like fire, burning gold
As leaves go whipping through the air,
Branches pop with brightest color
Until they're all left bare.

Everybody

We can lend a hand,
lend our ears,
and lend our eyes;
turn a cheek or
turn up our nose;
watch our tongues
and watch our feet;
pull a leg or break a leg,
break some hearts,
hold our heart,
touch a heart,
and give out our heart's;
all in the sake of making someone's life,
no one's life,
your own life just a little better
for its trouble.

don't forget

don't even think about forgetting
that which makes us who we are
and continually hold tight to
the thread connecting thus far.
don't let go of that single string
that ties us to each other and
wraps around to tether our hearts
and pulls us hand in hand.
don't forget that single line
on which all our lives seem to hang
that keeps us close and is threaded with
our words, our moments, our secrets that we sang.

broken strings

way back when

when time was just a little longer

and days stretched out like taffy

i first laid eyes on you.

it was almost sunset when

the orange glow eclipsed us both

but i said nothing.

it was another six years before

we ever met again

and this time i decided to say

hi. and then you smiled

and i smiled back.

and when you cracked my shell

and exposed who i truly was

and we started to fall into that little

thing they call love,

that's exactly when you broke the news

that you couldn't stay forever.

you disappeared and never let

me really say goodbye. but that's okay

because i don't even know what i would 

say. because, you were my little

eclipse, my shining blip of heaven

and i should have followed you.

Late at Night

When it's really late
And your eyes begin to blur
When the darkness closes in
And nothing is for sure
That's when inspiration hits
That's when the best ideas come,
It's the time of night when your mind
Is working, brilliant, done.

Around Again

It's the kind of weather that makes you smile,
It's the kind of smile that makes you look twice,
It's the kind of double take that makes you notice,
That the weather's kind of nice.

The Cold

The frozen air carries

No sound through the hills

Through the trees

Through the snow.

It is empty, silent, dead, grey.

Without an utterance of anything

But the sound of solitude.

Until a low pitched hum 

And a higher ring

Lights up the air with a beautiful melody.

It chimes and it sings

And echoes and rings

A puts rhythm and music to the cold.

Catch Me!

Oh no!
      It's seems that I've
                         been carried off
                                         down the stairs
                                   far away
                   around the bend
            over the hills
around the world
           Oh no! Catch me
                      Before I go drifting...
                                             Completely...
                         
                                                             Off...

                                                                                             the map...

A Window

'Good morning' said the window pane,
Greeting the newly risen sun
As sunlight filtered through the glass
Shedding light on all that's done.
The palesweet glass set in wood,
Shone earnestly through the hours,
Reflecting light and clouds and trees,
Ringed with climbing, growing flowers.
But alas the window felt alone,
As the world just looked on through.
The never admired the window's beauty alone,
Only amazed by the wonderful view.

The Future

We cling to the future

Because it is inevitable.

Good or bad,

Desired or scorned,

Peaceful

Tragic

Scary

But existing all the same.

No matter what decision is made,

It is made.

The truth we can't escape,

Whether we want to or not.

And so we trust in a future

That will be there...

That will always surprise us.

It draws us forward with

The hope of a chance.

But sometimes we forget

That even though the future is coming,

We already have today.

So think what you will about what's coming,

But don't forget to live in the moment of what's here.

Submerged

Come up for air and take a look.

Before another wave comes crashing down.

Submerging you with all the worry,

That keeps floating all around.

Keep swimming or you'll surely be

Caught up in the current and waves.

What pond, what lake, what ocean vast

Surrounds you through the days?

Maybe you will catch a ride,

With a nearby passing boat.

But just remember to keep trying,

Even if you don't.

Inspired

Let loose the sails

And pray that the wind will blow.

Don't forget to lift the anchor,

And get ready to go.

Inspiration brews above

In the cloudy, gray blue sky.

Let the wind of creativity,

Whip up and blow on by.

Cut through the icy waters,

Of words and ink and pen.

It's no longer a question of if there will be a story...

It's only a question of when.

The First Sip of Coffee

Just a sip of coffee
Is sometimes all I need.
All I need to take a step,
Take a moment,
Take a leap.
To get going and go on up.
To fly away and soar.
To shoot for the sun,
Not knowing what's in store.
To be wrapped up in the rays of light
And all ready to shine.
Sometimes all I need is
A first sip to put me back in line.

Dance Along the Shore

Nothing quite compares to
Walking barefoot on the beach.
Letting the water wash over your toes
And the sand curl around your feet.
And breathing in the salty air
That reminds you of something long ago.
A trip, a moment, a memory.
While you let the fierce wind blow
Away all of the details,
Like the water smooths the sands.
And as you dance along the shore
And let the trouble slip from your hands.

Separated

It is the Sun that's seen it all.
The days of ages, rise and fall.
But it's the moon that peers into
The starlit night's view.

Never jealous of the other,

Content in where they reign.

The Sun guides the light blue sky,

Before the moon rises again.

But why not cross the invisible wall,

That stands between the two?

Both are aware that the impossible stands,

And there's nothing they can do.

Still, the sun wonders 

Who lights the world when he's away.

While the moon looks all around him,

Catching only glimpses of the day.

Left Behind

It's like we never left.
Left behind all the messes
All the problems
All the strangers
All the lifetimes.
It's like we never
Left them all behind...
But we did.
And now we have to move on,
Face tomorrow without the familiarity
That we had in yesterdays.
But we are ready.

What if...?

What if I never loved you?
My heart would slowly melt
Until it washed up and drowned me,
If I never knew how it felt.
What if we never laid our eyes
upon the other's face?
Would I be standing here before the world,
Or in a different place?
What if my heart never wanted,
Nothing more than only you?
I think it's harder than I imagined,
If only I never knew.

What...?

What kind of poetry makes you smile?

What kind of weather makes you laugh?

What is that makes you wander,

Away from the beaten path? 

What kind of sunshine makes you warmer?

What kind of rainbows remind you of rain?

What kind of smile makes you fuzzy,

And forget about the pain?

The Illusion

Starry constellations,

Passing overhead,

Sparkling brilliant, bright, and blue.

Amidst the blackest bed

Of thick velvet, nighttime sky

Streaking gold, flying by.

When summer goes and winter rolls

Into the season's here,

The stars, they shine with brilliant light

The heavens' golden tear.

The sunshine yawns and stretches arms

Of golden light to erase the stars.

Upward

It is as if the sky has spoken

And commanded all the world

To rise up and reach for it

Like a child reaching up for more

Like trees traveling upward

And twisting into the clouds

Like whispers floating into the air

Until they're all aloud.

Like a heart beat speeding up,

Up, up, and away.

Everything it goes upward,

So remember that today.

The Sun

There is something rather intriguing
Would you not say--
About the way the sun comes up
The same way everyday?

What plots its course and draws it near
To shine down upon the Earth?
Does it wish to see us every morn,
Or does it measure what we're worth?

Wondering Wandering

If I let my mind wander,

just a few steps off the path,

my thoughts are sent plummeting,

spiraling on past death.

Thinking of what could be,

what is, what's not...and why?

They threaten to engulf me,

Always, always they try.

If I let my mind wander,

like a dog on the run,

It's a wonder when it wanders,

That I'm not completely done.

The Creator

It reveals itself in the world around,
And in everything is heard.
The force that created all the world,
The beautiful, Holy, written Word.
Its evidence lies in everything,
And sings praises to He who made
All living creatures and earth, and sky;
The One who remains when all else fades.
The Highest of Highest and King of all Kings,
Who watches and nurtures all life.
The world is a masterpiece of His creation,
He who conquers all death, sickness, and strife.

Lazy Days

It's not everyday
That you don't get out of bed on time
That you skip the cereal for cold pizza
That you don't answer calls,
Texts,
Emails
And you just spend time with yourself.
That you drink hot tea
And stay in your pajamas til noon
And forget,
If for only a moment,
That there is work to be done.
There aren't many days
Spent like this.
So when they come
Enjoy them.

Evanescence

Made in a myriad of color,

With a beauty quite unknown,

The simple, evanescent bubble,

Floats through the air alone.

Carrying with it deep inside,

The breath of a secret passed along,

Floating, drifting, wafting,

Ready to sing out its secret song.

Its rainbow sphere slides through the air,

Not itself knowing where to stop,

But all that is captured within,

Comes spilling out with a muted-POP!

The Falling of the Sun

When the sun was slowly setting,

It arrived at quite a thought.

It let go of the sky, for just a moment,

And down through the air it fought.

It raced among the greenest trees,

Setting them all ablaze.

Their softest leaves turn crimson red, 

And erupted into different shades.

The forest was on fire, 

As leaves crinkled out and dried.

And the chill set in that was left behind,

After the sun raced back to the sky. 

Different

Silent in the loudest crowd

And short against the tall.

Feeling just a tad too warm

As the leaves begin to fall.

Dancing when the rain falls down,

And letting loose happy tears.

Bold and brilliant when all fades,

Standing strong despite all fears.

After the Rain

It passes overhead,
Threading among the clouds.
A promise of a promise,
Like a prayer said aloud.
Colors ever-changing,
Shifting like the seasons.
Blinking red, and into blue,
Shining yellow without reasons.
Encompassing the entire world,
Yet just a sliver of the sky.
Stretching far for just a glimpse,
The rainbow passing by.

What Falls Between

Love is an old pair of shoes

Sitting in the corner.

Laces untied, unused for years now,

Because they've become too small

For older feet;

Yet still shined to perfection

Every morning.

Love is the early morning risers

Whose hands held tight

Hold each other up

Even when the very line they walk

Becomes too thin

To navigate alone.

Love is what draws near

The darkest and the light

And allows a sliver

Of messy, ugly, mindless,

Twisting, turning

Beautiful Gray,

To fall between.




-Jenna Mosier

A Dream of a Dream

A mysterious phantom

floating just out of reach,

dancing behind heavy lids

Taunting, teasing each.

There, but not quite.

Desired, but not held.

The urgent need to have

All fears and worries quelled.

Just for a moment, 

To slip into the peace.

Rest, respite, relaxation,

Just to fall to these.

But, alas! How it evades us,

Like fog upon the ground.

Coming closer, sliding away,

Never quite to be found.

A Roaring Madness

It's like a roaring madness
That is taking over all.
Ripping, raving, gnashing teeth,
Yet gentle despite it all.
Carefully intertwining
Into the hands of fate.
Never underestimating
The power of its state.
It envelops everything
And seeks to closely knit,
Together all the odds and ends;
Love. It is the love that's hit.

A New Pet

One day a thought came stumbling
In, landing within my brain.
I decided I quite liked it,
And tied it down with a chain.
I let it simmer but nothing came through,
Until one day he broke free.
He tugged my strings and scratched the walls,
But there was no door to see.
No exit, no, there was nothing there,
So around and around he flew.
I realized I must nurture the thought,
Take care of it and tame it, too.
I'll have to make sure he's got enough food,
And water to last him the day.
That way my lovely new thought,
Won't try to get away.

The Trouble

There came a day when Mr. Fish
Was ripped from his watery home.
He was stuck upon land,
But not able to stand,
While around him the land-creatures roamed.

He flopped all around til he came to a puddle,
And there he flipped and he breathed.
But the puddle was small,
And no rain would fall,
And soon he desired to leave.

"Oh, Mr. Bird!" he cried up to the sky,
"I'd like to make you a deal!"
The feathered one dropped,
Upon land he stopped,
While the fish looked up with zeal.

"I'm stuck in this puddle, oh, can't you see?
And I'd much like to get out.
But I can't climb ashore,
Or I won't live anymore!
Can't you help me on my route?"

Mr. Bird cocked his head, and said with a squawk,
"Why of course I'd help if I could!
But what can I do?
There's my feet, I've got two,
But they're far too small to do any good!"

So he left Mr. Fish, upset and lost,
Alone in his tiny, new abode.
But someone new came along,
Croaking out his old song,
And Mr. Fish locked his eyes on a Toad!

"Oh, Mr. Toad!" he cried out with glee,
"Do you have a moment to spare?
I'm stuck alone here,
I can't get home, I fear!
Is there anyway you could help me get there?"

But Toad too was puzzled,
And had nothing to say,
So away he hopped,
He barely even stopped!
And Mr. Fish cried out in dismay.

Then along came a human, kicking at rocks,
Until he suddenly looked straight down.
He saw Mr. Fish,
And then stretched his lips,
Into a huge, horrified frown.

"Poor little guy! Let's get you home!
There's no way you'll survive here!
So scooping him up,
In his hands like a cup,
He carried him to the pond that was near.

"Thank you, oh thank you!" Mr. Fish bubbled,
But the human was walking away.
Yet Mr. Fish never forgot,
Who helped him with his lot,
And carried him back the whole way.

The Guardian

But you say to yourself

What is this place?

As you turn your head and look

Around. You are lost in this space.

You lost in this world where

The roses wither away

And leaves drop by the dozen.

Time captures all, you say.

You say it's overwhelming

And you can't handle it all.

But I'll tell you a secret my dear:

There's someone there when you fall.

The Moon

It's simple when the moon

Lights the path you trod

And gives the breath 

To the night that

Without it crushes

Everything.

The lunar candle that

Let's the nocturnal see

All that is around,

All that lives and breathes:

The moon! Ah, the moon,

That simple sphere upon the 

Canvas of the sky.

With gentle white light,

Pure, cleansing light

That helps the day to start

Anew.

With the Fish

I rode along the ocean top
And drifted among the waves.
'Twas not a soul in sight to see,
Not a word for days.
But while the waves crashed and roared,
A bird showed in the sky.
He landed swift atop my boat,
And looked me in the eye.
I loved my bird, he was my roots,
And tied me back to land.
His feathers smelled of fresh earth,
The trees, the rocks, the sand.
But then one day my feathered friend,
Took flight and sailed away.
But his ride was not on waves,
Rather on the sunshine's ray.
So into the depths I finally dove
To escape the salty spray.
And was suddenly blinded with the deepest blue,
From the swirling, twirling waves.
The creatures that I saw down there,
Were different from my bird.
The laughed and giggled but all in bubbles,
Without ever speaking a word.

the search

I swam down to the ocean depths
to try and find it there.
I looked and looked and could not find
and soon came up for air.

                   I climbed the mountains 'cross the land,

                  dreaming of what could be.

                  But the misty fog of such great heights

                  blocked out all to see.

Into a tree I rose and stayed,

gazing at the star-encrusted sky.

It was there that I found my home;

a place where I can fly.

Hiding

Search the corners,
Check the walls!
Pull up the floorboards,
Check them all!
Keep on looking,
It's got to be somewhere!
Open the windows,
Look over there!
What are we doing?
We just keep on looking,
Like we're all lost.
Searching at all costs.
We can't quit our quest,
Where could it be?
There's something we're missing...
Things we can't see.
It's time
(that we're missing)
It's time
(that we search).
It's time
(that we seek out)
It's time
(and it's worth).
There's so much to do,
But so little time for it.
So keep sweeping the corners,
And don't stop, search for it!

Behind Closed Doors

There is no such thing
as a poem
completed.
There is no such thing
as a dead poem, a finished poem,
a poem that ends when
the book closes.
They don't end,
they get embedded in the now
and the present,
wrapped up and beautiful
ready to be gifted again
and reborn.
There is no such thing
as a poem that doesn't breathe
and morph into
what becomes of everything.
Poetry is a color
that has no set pigment
that changes as dramatically as
the sky at sunset.
Poetry threads into
everything we do.
It latches on to
the empty places in our hearts
and the fuller ones, too.
It whispers to us
of the dreams we wish we had,
of the dreams we do have.
It tugs at those parts of us
that want to embellish the world
with our stories.
A poem dies when you close the book
much like a room disappears when you turn out
the light.
It is still there.
It is still living.
It is still a memory
we can not forget.
It is the secret, the proclamation, the underlying desire
That is put into words
That aren't words.
They are magic.
Immortal.
Unfinished.
Alive.

Jenna Mosier

The Sea

You and I.

We sail far across the sea,

Where waves rise and

crash upon,

But these two words,

Keep us holding on.

You and I.

Me and you.

What a pair we are,

Escaping on roaring blue flight,

Steering our ship far away,

Til we disappear almost out of sight.

Me and you.

The both of us.

Off we go and slip away,

Through the realms of the washing sea,

Where birds don't fly, and the sun is high,

And we are whatever we want to be.

The both of us.

You.

You like the life raft,

Amidst all the swirling salt,

Like the ray of sunshine

That I've finally caught.

You.

But them.

They don't have to find us,

Our ship can disappear,

The shadows of night can overtake us,

And we won't live in fear

Of them.

Together.

Together we'll be captains,

And swim with the stars.

There's no one to stop us.

We've flown too far.

Together.

Eclipse

The crickets have stopped chirping,

Silence settles in.

The deepest scarlet fills the sky,

The Eclipse begin.

A shadow covers the burning sun,

And casts darkness throughout the sky.

A glow softly rims the sphere,

As the moon passes by.

But only for a moment,

The Eclipse is purely seen,

Before it begins to fade away,

Like a forgotten dream.

ABC...

A Book Carried

Down Every Far, Gray Highway

In Just Kingdoms

Lies Meekly Now

Opened, Placed Quietly,

Revealing Spectacular Tales, Unbelievable!,

With X-citement, Yielding Zeal.

-----------------------------------

Comment your own 26-word poem that uses each letter of the alphabet! 

The Disease

Wadded paper fills the floor,

Dead pens lie scattered, too.

Endless scribbles have killed them all,

And scrawls along lines of blue.

Lamplight streams across the desk,

But nothing is coming to mind.

It's the deadly disease that takes us all,

It's like a creative death wish signed.

Writer's Block, it comes for days,

For weeks and months at a time.

No ideas, it's like blindness!

No plot lines, no rhyme.

Another notebook torn to shreds,

As everything comes out wrong.

Why me? The Writer calls,

But nothing comes along.

And then there's the silence,

No struggle is left,

The disease is winning,

Ideas bereft.

What's the cure, you dare to ask?

It's that which is still being sought.

So far there's only one prescription,

But alas, it cannot be bought.

Inspiration, my dear!

To be inspired is key.

It protects and defends the blankest of minds,

And allows the Writer to see.

A Birthday Cake

A fire,
A flaming raging fire,
Above a snowy hill.
A fire atop skinny trees,
Never standing still.
Glowing softly on a starry night,
Each tiny fire sways.
They burn away but do not spread,
Each tiny orange blaze.
The forest begins to melt away,
When suddenly a giant wind whips through.
Each fire is dimmed within a second,
And a wish is made anew.

The Artist

The artist

Strikes his pose

And strikes the painting

With a dab of color.

He backs away

And tilts his head

Ready to spread another.

Another burst of vibrant color,

Or maybe one paled away.

Ready to slash

To splash

To paint.

The artist

Has seized the day.

His canvas deepens

And becomes more than flat.

It transforms

It explodes

And becomes something new.

Something fresh, artistic.

A painting, dear viewer, for you.

The Day

The sun makes its greeting,
And rises into the sky.
It brightly waves good morning,
And the moon says goodbye.
The sun rises higher,
As it soars along its path,
Ever moving, all so slowly,
A point of light in a giant blue bath.
Up until its highest arc,
It shines upon the grasses,
It shines upon the sea, the hills,
And clouds glimmer as it passes.
Then it travels farther down,
And sinks close to the ground.
In a wave of exploding color,
It goes to bed without a sound.

The Staircase

One, two. One, two. 

Feet plodding on in time.

Up, up, up, up.

A rhythm without rhyme.

Stepping up, moving onwards,

The stairs continue on.

One, two. One, two.

The feet fall upon,

Upon the ancient, creaking wood.

Climb up, one two.

Who can measure upon these stairs,

How many feet came through?

Hold on to the railings.

Be careful and don't fall!

Watch your step, one, two.

Go up and climb them all.

Up the stairwell leading high,

A doorway to the clouds.

Climb the stairs, take a leap!

And shout your dreams aloud...

Chasing Ghosts

Their paws tread against the ground
And claws trace the earth.
They're running, bounding, through the trees
Leaping for all they're worth.

Over rocks and logs and dirt,
With howls upon their lips,
they run beneath the starry sky,
And the earth beneath them rips.

They're chasing, hunting, never stopping,
They seem to nearly catch it, almost.
These leaping dogs, they're on the prowl,
But they're only chasing ghosts.

Rose Petal Springtime

Dressed in their finest, 

Blooming for all to see.

Flirting with the butterflies,

Dancing with the bee.

They wave to the friendly wind,

And laugh among the breeze,

Climbing up to the sky,

Leaning against the trees.

It's rose petal springtime,

Their downy soft skin grows.

Folding in upon themselves,

Lined in overflowing, growing rows.

The rosebushes are laughing,

Their colors like a song,

Singing of the rose petal springtime,

Telling summer to sing along.

What Rhymes With Go?

What's keeping you from beginning,

From setting out to change it all?

What words are keeping you here,

Instead of out standing tall?

What keeps you hiding out,

While the world is yours to take?

Step out into the vast ocean,

Create all that you can make.

Think of all the beauty,

That you alone can spread.

Like the perfect painting,

Paint it yellow, blue, and red.

Like a perfect ballad,

Keep all your notes in tune.

Let your symphony sing above the noises,

Rising far up to the moon.

Like the perfect story,

Tell them all your words.

Show them how your thinking.

Let your ideas take wing like birds.

Like the perfect poem,

Use all the rhythm and rhyme you know.

Feel free to be perfectly unperfect.

So tell me, what rhymes with go?

listening to the leaves

The drifting wind whispers through
the rustling, weathered leaves.
It whips them up and throws them high
swimming through the trees.

           It's autumn now, they seem to say
           as the sound of them fills the air.
           It's time for apples and time for red,
           and time to pick the ripened pears.

Autumn with it's winds of frost,
and autumn with its colors.
Brilliant gold and vivid red
Deep orange and many others.

            Autumn where the nights grow long
            and the moon carries a chill.
            Autumn where the trees transform
            and leaves just can't sit still.

There is a cracking, rustling noise
of crunching, drying leaves.
Chilly wind whips them up,
and tosses them through the trees.

Summer Storms

It's early.

But the storm doesn't know that.

Only the sun, and only the sky,

But storm clouds still,

Build nearby.

It's early.

But the rain starts off anyway.

It blocks the vivid golds and pinks,

The morning sunrise is well-hidden,

And heavy winds begin to sink.

Rain.

It pours and pours in pounding sheets

And floods the grassy ground.

The sky begins to shiver,

And suddenly thunder sounds.

BOOM!

It's like a giant drum,

Exploding far above it all.

Through the drifting, shifting shadows,

Rain continues to fall.

Silence.

It's quiet for only a moment,

Until a resounding crack fills the air.

A flash of white, hot bright light

Illuminates rain everywhere.

It's early.

The heat is being set aside,

By the rainy front of storms.

Thunder drifts ominously,

And scares away the warm.

Rain.

The storming just continues,

And waters the summer grass.

How long will it thunder?

How long will our summer storm last?

The Dolphin's Song

roaring waves crash to sand

and sink their foamy teeth

into the shore and all the shells

that line the twilight beach.

from the tide that washes over,

broken shells remain

like a scattered graveyard

beneath a constant rain.

moonlight gleams atop the water

and sprinkles the misty shore

while waves crash and ebb away; 

always they ask for more.

they come back to taste the land

but are quickly wrenched away;

back to the watery depths,

they crash and foam til day.

before dawn spreads across the sky

and sets the water ablaze,

dolphins jump and skim the surface

through an unseen maze.

all the way to the shore

they swim and race away.

their smooth gray bodies all burst forth

to greet the sunlit day.

The Garden

Long ago there was a desert,

Parched and dry as a bone.

Empty, lifeless, silent

Overworked by the sun.

But then came the monstrous wind

Carrying seeds from across the sea.

Leaving behind in the desert
A grassy plain-to-be.
After the wind came the rains
That doused the land with wet.
The grass took root and peeked its head;
Life in the desert was met.
For many years the desert grew
Into a life-filled land,
With rolling hills and grassy knolls
To replace the orange sand.
Then came the wave of birds,
With flowers looking for room.
They let them fall to the earth,
And the desert burst into bloom.
Over the course of all these years,
The desert had transformed.
But nothing could have ever grown,
Had there never been the storm.

what time is it?

what time is it?

wondered the baby at play.

Just the beginning,

Your very first day.

what time is it?

cried the boy running wild.

Still quite early;

You're only a child.

what time is it?

asked the busy young man.

Not too soon,

But enjoy what you can.

what time is it?

begged the aging adult.

Not over yet,

But it comes to a close.

i know what time it is

smiled the elderly one.

my time is up,

i'm almost done.

Relax, said the Father.

You're coming with me.

You aren't through yet.

You're merely free.

An Adventure

They were the Adventurers

Saving the world each day.

They were all the heroes,

Chasing their problems away.

They rode their fiery dragons,

Everyday from dusk to dawn.

Facing all the rest of the world,

With their bright swords drawn.

Never to be sidetracked

With worldly worries or fear.

They were the Adventurers,

Traveling far and near.

But never journeying too far

From the realm of the backyard,

Where castles grew like flowers,

And kingdoms spread like stars.

They were blessed beyond belief, these Adventurers,

Many quests awaited like an overflowing cup.

But these days the adventures are silent,

For the Adventurers all grew up.

Blueberry Weather

It's hot, blueberry weather  

Where the winds fade away.   

Where clouds dance from the sun  

And never want to stay.  

Weather where the days grow long,  

And dawn is redefined. 

When crickets sing and shout aloud  

And fireflies blink and shine. 

But alas, what is that there on the porch  

Floating by at the end of the day?  

A simple red leaf, riding the wind,  

Sweeping our blueberry weather away.

-Jenna Mosier