Listen.

* Inspired by the little things *
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

To the whispers of the swaying trees,
To the prick of a dew drop clinging to a leaf,
To the laugh of the crackling wall,
To the wail of the newborn bird,
To the pounding of two hearts entwined,
To the static of an untuned radio,
To the mumur of isolated voices,
To the twang of a string on a guitar,
To the dance of the plastic bag in the street,
To the whirling thoughts inside one's head,
To the cough of a worn-down car,
To the growl of distant thunder,
To the patter of falling rain,
To the licks of a cleaning cat,
To the faint hum of technology,
To the scratching of a pen against paper,
To the gossip of the bees,
To the roar of a beaming fire,
To the sigh when everything falls into place,
Just listen.

* Photo by me *

The Caterpillar

"Spread your wings on a warm summer's day and wave us all goodbye..."

* Inspired by the beauty in small things *

Dearest little caterpillar,
Tiptoe graciously across the battered leaf.

Oh, how small you are, little caterpillar,
Compared to the grand, cruel world.

People take advantage of you, little caterpillar,
They do not realise how unique you are.

It is only a matter of time, little caterpillar,
Until you blossom and shed light on the corrupted space.

Let your whimsical self guide the fallen,
And shed light on those with lost hope.

So go forth, little caterpillar,
And find beauty in negative spaces.

* Original Image is not mine. I merely cropped it. *
* Image source: http://browse.deviantart.com/qh?=&section=&q=caterpillar#/daw863 *

Falling Petals

* A poem inspired by roses *

The flowers - they are in full bloom,
Though beautiful now, I know well enough that they shall soon wilt and fall.
Such a quick and glorious end - one of which I cannot help but hope for,
For it is "the impermanence of things that makes them truly beautiful".

Although. . .I had heard this saying before,
Regardless of this, the falling petals hurt me to my soul.
I found myself praying that they would always stay in bloom,
Even though I knew it was impossible.

* Original image is my own *

The Little Things

* An original poem, based on bonding with another person *

The little things always mattered to her,
The warmth of the embrace,

That comforting look in the eye.

It was the reassurance that everything was going to be alright in the end.

It was her bubbly presence that he enjoyed,

The way he lost his fingers in the forest of her hair.

His arms are the walls to her sanctuary,

The only place he knows she's safe in there.

* Original image is not mine *

* Image Source: http://wifflelevertofull.files.wordpress.com/2009/07/sunnyfield.jpg *

Thoughts From The Heart

* A collection of phrases, or images that I write down to help stimulate some creative activity. These can often be used to describe made up 'scenes' or can be used as titles for creative writing pieces *
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

1: Black bird kissed the clouds.
2: Smoke in a summer sky.
3: Rain on a moss garden.
4: The nervous smile.
5: The gorgeous strawberry kiss.
6: To enjoy the silence.
7: Crisp leaves of Autumn.
8: Pup in a cup.
9: Lipstick stained cigarettes. *
10: Stick a needle in the eye.
11: The warmth of an embrace.
12: Snow in summer.
13: Mountain ash.

* Provided by Nat Sy

* Original image is not mine *
* Image Source: http://m3ntalysan3.deviantart.com/art/black-and-white-butterfly-15205197 *

Haiku

* Decided to take a new approach to poetry. This is my attempt at a Haiku *

Weeping, heaving heart
Stitches becoming unseamed

Wants needle and thread.

* Image Source: http://media.photobucket.com/image/stitched%20heart/babygirl-jaeda/heart.jpg *
* The original image does not belong to me *

Lolita

* An original poem, inspired by a song *

Dearest little Lolita,
The water of life, the water of torrential lovers.
Known as Lo or Lola. . .
Although different, it's all the same to her.

Often called malicious,
My hot-tempered doll - wrapped up in shrink wrap.
Half cotton wool, the other half stainless steel.
Innocent as a lamb, yet with razor sharp edges.

Pure and untainted,
Yet corrupt and cruel.
When at night she dreams of wolves,
It's poor Lola who bleeds.

They say "Whatever Lola wants, Lola gets",
And when your tongue slips, you shriek your wild belly laugh.
As wild as a phenomenon - like a banshee's scream,
And you'll surrender yourself when you see them all.

With detrimental emerald eyes,
You'll pull on your stockings of a red disintegrated hue.
My femme fatale - Although a goddess to many,
Poor Lolita is merely my porcelain treasure.

Lo or Lolita, be it different or the same,
I'll cradle her like a Christmas bauble - as something fragile.
Because whatever Lola wants, Lola gets,
She's my dearest little Lolita. . .

* Original image is mine. I created and Photoshopped it *