The StoneThe StoneThe Stone
She stood in front of the Stone, sizing it up, judging its worth. It looked like a stone, instead of the Stone it truly was. It wasn't sparkling, as Stones are meant to do. It semed empty, hollow somehow, like it was missing a part of itself. Maybe that was why it didn't glitter in the rays of the sun that filtered through the leaves. But, it was a Stone. It wasn't very pretty, but it was sturdy, strong, and it had a good hold on the earth. It wasn't the best, no, but it was still a good Stone.
Sadly, one day, she misstepped, a careless mistake, and the Stone detached itself, just a little, from the ground.
CollegeBubblegum and lollipops.College
Mountains and midgets and trees.
Long detours and silent bus stops.
Anime and Japanese.
Spanglish and procrastination.
Quarters and sneaky snack machines. Conflict and confrontation.
Another scoop of ice cream? Yes please.
Recycled paper, a million sheets.
And empty ballpoint pens.
Afternoon naps and lack of sleep.
Writing poems at four a.m.
Invisible lesbians and free food.
Laughter and inside jokes.
Facebook and YouTube.
“Hokay, so” and post-it notes.
Football games in freezing cold.
In the Branches WIPNayria yanked open the heavy wooden door and peered out into the storm before he’d even the chance to knock. She found on her doorstep a shivering young man, his grey cloak completely saturated with water. He squinted at the dark figure in the doorway in front of him, backlit by a very warm and inviting fire.In the Branches WIP
“Could you spare a room, miss?” his teeth chattered together, his blue eyes flitted about in darkness. Water dripped down his face and arms where the cloak had failed to do its job. He could make out her face better now, and could just see the petite girl, whose chaotic brown hair was barely kept in check by t
Dimensions WIPA young man stood silhouetted in an open window, his shadow faint from the weak moon, his features hidden. The chilly autumn air drifted lazily in as he peered about the room. Even in darkness his eyes were keen, catching every detail of the tiny living space. Books were everywhere, piled in teetering stacks on the desk and dresser, splayed across the floor and by the sink. Organic chemistry and biology had been tossed next to Tolkien and Shakespeare in front of the vanity; microbiology and Spanish lay next to the computer chair, keeping an open journal company. Plastic bottles were scattered about the room, stuckDimensions WIP
emmmbllarrrg.
Tired
--
Last night I lay in bed looking up at the stars and thought...
'Where the HELL is my ceiling?!'
--
Poetry is truly boundless. It is my passion, writing to you, that is. I am the canvas.
--
my poetry, lemon
both bitter and tart
you decide the taste of my art
©iampoetry
ღ
--
Why run 10 miles when you can run 100? Moderation bores me. -Dean Karnazes
--
Poetry is truly boundless. It is my passion, writing to you, that is. I am the canvas.
--
my poetry, lemon
both bitter and tart
you decide the taste of my art
©iampoetry
ღ
--
It was a dark and stormy [ nightmare ] …
--
Why run 10 miles when you can run 100? Moderation bores me. -Dean Karnazes
--
one fish, two fish, red fish, blue fish
--
Why run 10 miles when you can run 100? Moderation bores me. -Dean Karnazes
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