Poem: Storm Secrets

Swirling
Between raindrops--
the Sodden speeches of the clouds--
The wind weaves
Secrets; whispering
A stuttering soliloquy
Unwritten, wordless
Monologue
murmmured
In the pitter-patter voice--
Footstep-heartbeats--
Drumming in your ears
With wind swept rain

Poem: These things I wish for you_for my cousin's 16th.

These things I wish for you:
Rainbows and butterflies
Dragons and Vampires
Knee-high toes socks and bow ties
Long, flowy cloaks and other attire
A kingdom--a world!--just for you
With you as it's queen
With you as it's muse
Just imagine any scene...
These things I wish for you

Anti-Inspired

Oh where, oh where, did my inspiration go?
Someone once said that you can't wait around for inspiration, that you have to "go after it with a club." But how do you propose I do that? Where do you go looking for it?

I miss writing. But I can't find inspiration. It taunts me sometimes, hovering close by, like slippery cobwebs. They slip through my fingers or break completely. I'll start writing and then ...nothing... And what I have isn't all that great either.

Question

Do emotions have to make sense?

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Poem: Alone_for a character

Alone in the wilderness inside my head,
Bearing the marks of sleepless nights,
Disjointed harmonies beating in my heart,
As the long hours tick past during scalding hot days.
Bone white memories crumbling to dust,
Haunting my every shadowed step
To the tune of harsh, ear-splitting screams
Torn from the throats of nightmares.
And frozen fingertips trip over my vertebrae,
Banishing hope and joy a easily as falling down,
Keeping me from dreams and peace and healing.
The Future and the Past crowd in close
Until all that is left is a shell
Broken and withering, more fragile than cobwebs
WIth only fear, and pain, and doubt for company.
And in he wilderness inside my head,
Bearing the marks of sleepless nights,
Disjointed harmonies beating in my heart,
I cling to the hope that I'm not alone.

Poem. Untitled. Goddess

Like a poem, or a song, or a photo
The mountains, the ocean, and the sky,
Instilling the senses
With Beauty, awe, and meaning;
She's the butterfly and the storm
The cherry-blossom tree and the earthquake
The smile and the tear.
She can dance on the fingertips of pygmy shrews,
Smaller than a drop of rain.
She can use whole meadows as stepping stones,
Larger than the greatest trees.
She lives within everyone and everything: Web, Knot
Yet stands separate and apart: Guardian, Watcher
Like a poem, a song, or a photo
She is immortal
Imprinted on us all.