the verse belongs to her

hers is a verse
that will go unnoticed,
unheard of even if it screams
in a quiet forest

it blends into the night
comfortably cloaked in black,
stays out of the morning sun
avoiding the spotlight

hers is a verse
refusing to compete with the noise,
choosing to fold into
twilight’s golden slivers

it will never live
on the top of the world,
others have claimed the throne

but hers is a verse
that belongs only
to her own heart and mind–

and that is why she writes.

~~~

© annie scribes 2017
all rights reserved

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painting you

You’re a place that feels like home and smells like vanilla in the fall. A comfortably cold breeze as golden light first touches the ground on a new day. The crimson in a wine glass on the porch facing the sunset. The ripples in the river, flowing, carrying breaths, like blood in my veins.

~~~

© annie scribes 2017
all rights reserved

she stood me up (again)

tonight the moon stood me up again
crouched somewhere as darkness grew
I spent hours waiting in vain

did she think I had something to gain
slivers of light reminded me of you–
tonight the moon stood me up again

these bold emotions I do feign
she was to tell me which one is true
I spent hours waiting in vain

damn these colors that look like pain
shadows dancing in darkness too
tonight the moon stood me up again

this is crazy, I told her, we are insane
falling again, never learning, we never do
I spent hours waiting in vain

sunset hues on yesterday’s lane
painting you in shades anew–
tonight the moon stood me up again
I spent hours waiting in vain

~~~

A Villanelle.

© annie scribes 2017
all rights reserved

rain song

(a Rondeau)

pregnant drops escape from the sky
mistaken for tears angels cry
reflecting colors on their way
heavenly hues vowing to stay
even when doves refuse to fly

questions linger underneath: why
bitter truths— so they choose to lie
deep down as they’re learning to pray,
pregnant drops escape

say, how many times did they try
to keep their hopes flying up high?
morning turns to night turns to day
burdens they carry now do weigh
as much as they want to deny:
pregnant drops escape

~~~

© annie scribes 2017
all rights reserved

moonbathing

Moon drawing
mere mortals and all their flaws
reach out to the moon
silently soaking up her goodness
even if for just one night,
bathing in her light—
for once feeling stillness
seeping in

~~~

© annie scribes 2017
all rights reserved

on the choo-choo

she’d never seen trees run so fast
even her heartbeat could not compete
in her seat she sat, eyes set on the landscape
that looked different from a distance

around the hills they wrapped
long luscious string of cars admiring the valleys
raindrops knocking on her window
as if wanting to sing with the train,
“choo-choo, choo-choo”

soon the mountains would disappear
as concrete forest grew near
skyscrapers in place of the pines

the dream she’d been searching, maybe
it lived here

~~~
For #WhisperingNeds 111, ‘trains, railway, the railroad’.

© annie scribes 2017
all rights reserved

disguised

the sparkle they see
a beautiful distraction
from the pain within

~~~

© annie scribes 2017
all rights reserved

via Daily Prompt: Sparkle

agreeing with Ed

recently Ed has been telling me
of December clouds and promises
(I nod my head in agreement)

raindrops seem to come more often
gray dawn sees me burrowing
into remnants of night’s warmth
cruising into morning

maybe the last full moon of the year
two nights away
has the answer to our question
maybe its light can ease
the pain

~~~

Disclaimer: I don’t have copyrights to the video/song in the link.

© annie scribes 2017
all rights reserved