The Ballad of Pinal CountyIn the dusty, arid desertThe Ballad of Pinal County2 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Was a wooden, battered home
Where a dozen mares and stallions
Used to live and used to roam
As the sun was going down
A roaring rent the land
As a little ute sped by the farm
And kicked up rocks and sand
The kitchen it was empty
The paint was left to flake
And then the sun came up again
And dawn began to break.
Came many days and many nights,
And dwindling water sources
The land was empty lifeless but for
12 abandoned horses
The paddock once a haven
Where the horses used to lope
Now more like a prison
Brown and wilting, without hope.
In a little, nearby village
The word had spread around
IroningI have a crinkled shirtIroning2 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
It really needs a press
I think that I'm too lazy
I don't want to, I confess.
Is it for the lack of
An internal, driving force?
Or do my will and feelings
Take another, separate course?
Think of the little wrinkles
So innocent and sweet
Could I really burn them?
Or crush them with my feet?
They live a happy, peaceful life
They're generous, not rough
Could I really kill them
For a boring, seemly cuff?
And if the wrinkles go away
If they really want to leave,
I have many plans
Up my often-folded sleeve.
I could shove my clothing in my bag
Or throw my garment down the stairs
And if it lands on someo
SnowThe gentlest layer of crystal whiteSnow2 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Nurturing hills and shaping the land
The moon shone on that perfect night
With fingers of light from its ancient hand
No sound could be made to spoil that eve
The layers of white stretch on still
The snow knew not how to grieve
The snow was hard, the snow could kill
It hid the darkest, deepest fears
That could only be from winter brought
The dark, the hate of all the years
A ring, ugly and iron-wrought.
What could lie under the layer of snow?
A loving friend, a deadly foe?
Spy storySteven stood up and pushed his brown hair out of his darker eyes. The square was balmy, although it was late at night. A man innocently turned sausages in a corner, hoping that maybe a late-night customer might breeze by for a snack. Steven eyed the spot he needed to reach. It was the opposite side to where he stood, but he knew he couldn't cross without handing himself over. He would have to walk around. Any other time, any other place, any other task and Steven knew he would have been fine. But sweat trickled down his brow and the hairs on the back of his neck prickled. He knew what he had to do. Tonight would be the night he would sabotageSpy story2 years ago in Sketches More Like This
Good ByeGood Bye2 years ago in Emotional More Like This
Good-Bye, my wonderful magical childhood.
The Harry Potter Series raised me. It took me from a child, to a teen.
I was seven or eight years old when the first movie came out, and now, about seven years later... the final movie is coming out. It's more emotional than I thought it would be.
Those books, those movies... they were my childhood, my life.
It's finally sinking in, that I will never walk a new story again with Harry, Ron, and Hermione- whether it be in Hogwarts, fighting to survive the year, or somewhere in the wild, fighting Voldemort.
"It all ends" Haunting, heart breaking... It's the end of an era, and end of many childh