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