Writing

There is nothing like the
Scritch-scratch
Of pencil on paper
Furiously scribbling the ramblings
Of a crazed poet
As in a moment of genius
She puts her thoughts to words.

Growing Up

The blows across my face,
Carrying with it the tantalizing smell of freedom.
The heartache of a caged bird
Pulses in my chest.
And I yearn for the liberty
Morning with it brings,
As it is one less day
That stand between me
And the wisdom
Od adulthood.
So I cherish my pained moments
Caged by ignorance.
Because with them come the lessons
I must learn to be free.

Light

I figured out why I love big cities.
It is the lights,
The sparkling gems
Shining out into the darkness of night.
I care not about smog,
Or traffic,
But give me tall buildings
Gleaming like stars in the night
Full of poetic power.

And give me such light,
Reflecting off the rims of your glasses
Straight to my heart.

In Love with a City

Listening to Snow Patrol's
"Take Back the City,"
I thought of two cities.
One I know,
One I've barely met.
Neither one I live in now.

I love her sprawling glory,
Stretching from mountain feet
To the edge of the seas.
Her crazed traffic,
Filled with hidden sense.
I could live with out her smog,
But it's a part of makes her
Real,
Those imperfections.

This is Why I Should Call You

Ah, cher,
This is why I should call you.
I get to hear your voice,
Your life.
And you get to hear mine.
We are totally ourselves
Because it's hard for me to hide
When my sister constantly
Opens me up.

And it's rather fun,
Almost falling asleep,
Happy in the easy silence.

This is Why I don't Call You

Oh, cher,
This is why I don't call you.
We're both quiet
(Sometimes),
Flustered,
And you seem to be the bane
Of technology's existence,
At least today.

I'm laughing,
And I can't stop.
Because you're cute.
We're cute,
I suppose.

Ah,
This is why I don't call you,
Because it's hard to type with one hand.
And to talk.

Why are You Bored?

There is so much to do,
So much to see.
So many adventures outside
Are waiting for you.
Why are sitting bored
On the computer?

Mountain Stream

I went wading in stream so fair
To fill my lungs with mountain air
And remind myself of the things I'll miss
When I'm again a Nebraska miss.

In in that babbling brook I found
Stones so smooth and several round
Contrasted with the ones so sharp
Small but with a lot of heart.

And in the end I now believe
To be at home you first must leave.

Lessons from the Ocean

Joy
Dolphins must be able to know joy.
Otherwise,
Why would they leap into the air
For no discernable reason?
If they can breathe merely
By rising from the waters,
Why propel themselves
From the waves?
Their graceful arcs
Spell joy to me,
Pure joy in life.
And to have joy
When your life is a constant
Life-or-death struggle
Is something to be copied.

Resiliance
The waves are strong.
Stronger than you.
They move fast.
if you fall,
You simply get back up again.
The waves can keep going
for eternity.
So can you.

Help
When you fall down
In the ocean,
When you get wet,
You'll be covered in sand
In grime.
And you can't get clean by yourself.
You need the help
Of other people and,
Most helpful,
A shower.
You just need to ask for it.

It Still is Home

Remember when I said
I ached for a place that
Isn't home anymore?

I was wrong.

I am home!
Amid smog,
Traffic,
Smokers,
And danger,
I am home
Amid palm trees
Mountains,
The ocean,
And a big city.

The dry air
Is stirred by a cooling wind
That chills to the heart.
It gives a rush,
A thrill,
A feeling being on the edge,
Of unpredicatability.

And as the waves lap against
Your toes,
Cold,
The land of heat is one of chill...