Summer Belongs Here

The earth falls in me;

heavy pieces of rain-

spring, sneaking in

on silver tap shoes

through young skirts of mist.

A sea of cottons drowns

all but the shadow sky- and me-

who lies

with eyes to fly away,

on lashes the wings of moths,

a sweet, paper pair

rapping at my button cottage door.

A hollow of butterflies,

filled with the pulse of the sun-

it ripples in my ear, tell me to go

where they have been

on wings of gold lace, silver strings

faster than any sea.

A whole world of leaves-

through the dry window

on the wings of a lost fly-

a story made for empty air.

The heart of the earth is a broken star,

bare as the rare, unarmed evergreen

hiding behind yellow feather hands-

yet it coaxes a lullaby

into a body as open as the wind.

Legends of Hope

Transcending- but a glimpse
To the finest, behind the eye,
Behind the scattering
Of any light at all.

There, it waits, in the glory
So blind to see, shrouded-
The strong voice- echoing
That tangling, spidery song.

The true gods that run us,
They empty this little world,
Drown in tears at her feet,
Come washing back to us all.

Impossible

There is another globe,
Another universe
Waiting on the dawn,
Mismatched highways
Threading the earth.

Someday, we'll free ourselves;
Endless cycle, unattached
To a dream; the next one
Still unopened, yet
Pulled furthest from the sky.

First post

Hello, people. No one will probably read this in a while, but I need to do a first post. My blog is called "Thoughtfully Speechless" because I don't really talk much when you meet me in person, but I actually have a lot going on in my head that I'd like for you to know. I'll be leaving a lot of stuff here for the world to read, and I'd like to hear what you have to say. For now, I'll leave you with one of the first real poems that I wrote. Meaning, I wrote it for purposes other than school.

The Silver Lining

In a sea of endless cloud,
What’s a silver lining?
Such gray never sparkles
When the sun is shining!
Are your weeds emeralds,
With the sun’s mocking glow?
Are dew drops really pearls,
When weak dawn-lights show?

What’s a silver lining?
A struggle of light and dark?
If the storm were giving way,
A rainbow shows its arc.
Or perhaps it’s surrender
Of the little glow within?
Of the happy light of day,
Fading, fading and defeated.
To another hue of gray.
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Not my best work to date, but, to me, it was a start. Just like this blog is a start. Comment, please!