I am, and always have been, obsessed with names, swords, and everything relating to ancient Greece and Rome.
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The first time I rubbed on the old, golden lamp, a genie appeared with a great white beard. "Do tell me, my lad, what would you like this year
By Isla Griswaldabout a year ago in Poets
I washed upon a rocky shore, my edges worn and rough. My colored stripes were bright no more, my countenance was tough.
A wreath on the door, but no cheer in the heart, the one who was jolly did sadly depart. All I ask for Christmas, Santa,
I wander, I wander, I wander through the night, watching new souls rise to meet me. In the evening dusk, I brush against you,
The leaves have all left, abandoning the branches that fed and housed them. They warm the roots of the trees now, insulating them against frost and snow.
A bead of water slowly slides down a glistening icicle, melting in the sunshine after a frosty night. Drip, drip, drip go the gutters.
Don't look back, Emily, you did what you had to. I broke your heart, and you broke mine. That makes us even, or maybe it just makes us broken.
A single raindrop splatters on the center of my forehead. I watch others startle, then slowly realize that a deluge is imminent.
Rain dripping down a lampost. No passersby think to look up and ask if he would like an umbrella. Cold, wet, lonely - he stands
Parrish isn't a word that's meant to be a name. I told my mom that creative names were okay for girls, but not for boys. She laughed and shrugged and shook her head.
Clouds had settled over the tops of the skyscrapers as if to keep the city enclosed in a grey bubble. The gleam of the glass windows was dull
My coach wore me down like a pencil sharpener to hone me to my best self.
