Whispers (a short story)

Whispers

Written March 15th, 2012

A hill of gray, white, black, pink, and purplish marbled stone slopes from the foot of a tall white guardian and down into the chill, foamy waters of Maine, painted now by a masterful artist in the sky who is currently traveling downward to the horizon.

            This hill of stone rolls and has slices taken from it, and there are holes and curves carved in its face from the gentle kisses of the sea that slowly make an influence over time. Some of the pock-marks are big as my fist, others have developed into cozy caves in which children hide and share secrets.

            The tinkling of children’s laughter holds hands with the cries of the gulls and the whispers of the water across the stones. While the children dance and play and explore, the adults sit quietly, listening, their eyes far away. Watching them, I know that they are thinking, trying to find the meaning in the whispers of the waves and foam. What is the water saying? And perhaps, I wonder, the adults are truly trying to find the meaning of their lives in those murmurings.

Music Hallway

Music Hallway

Written June 6th, 2011

The soft smell of old must

Hinted in the air

An aged and well-loved carpet

Tread on by generations of shoes

A troop of elderly pianos

With chipped keys from extensive use

A din of music resonates

Echoing lightly on the walls

Here, here we camp

Soaking it all in

The years of bygone memories

The traces of personalities past

Fragments of talent, left behind

Drifting in the air,

Clinging to the walls,

Sleeping in the shadows;

You just have to look with your heart

We rest here, absorbing

An escape from the fast-paced world

A time to rest, heal, and create

A second home to wandering young souls

Just trying to find a place

This is the Music Hallway.

---

A tribute to the music hallway at my high school, where so many teenagers, including me, just love to be. It's like a light to moths.... And this is where, I'm sure, Mikey's spirit wanders on occasion.  



Just Kiss Me (a poem)

Just Kiss Me

Written May 5th, 2011

Your face prevails in my mind

And my skin, it tingles

From memories of when we mingled

My hand; it itches

Full of emptiness and wishes

To be curled around your fingers

 

When you’re here next to me

I’m flustered and I tend to worry

Over all that I do

My only desire is to impress you

I can’t take my eyes from your face and figure

With inhuman beauty, you walk with graceful stature

And you have chosen me

Butterflies

Butterflies

Written April 22nd, 2011

Butterflies

I chased

As a tumble toddler

In the summer

When they fluttered by

Giggle and Stumble

Never caught one

But I always loved

To chase

Blissful Abandon

Butteflies

I miss

As an abandoned adolescent

In my abdomen

When he smiled-by

Blush and Stumble

He caught me

But it N'always lasts

In for the chase

Catch then release

Butterflies

I have

As a hopeful heartbreakee

In the air surrounding us

When he reaches out- a lie?

Flattered, I might Stumble

Will he catch me?

Possible-always last

Beyond the chase

Long Love

Ice Cold (a short story)

Ice Cold

            I remember that day being especially cold.

            It had been nice all week; we were having luck with the fall weather. So that morning I didn’t put on a coat, just a hoodie. As soon as I walked out of the house to wait for the bus, I knew it’d been a mistake. But I couldn’t turn back for fear of missing my ride. Mom would be madder than hell if I woke her up because I missed the bus. So I gritted my teeth and walked down the driveway.

            It was the type of cold that seeped right down into your bones and made them ache real bad. It was the type of cold that left your insides freezing long after your skin had warmed up again.

            The bus didn’t come right away, so I paced back and forth, like they say you’re supposed to in order to keep warm. AS my shoes crunched back and forth over the frost bitten pavement and I was shivering violently, I couldn’t help but think what a load of bullshit that was.

            I had never been happier when the long yellow vehicle finally came to halt in front of me, the sweet relief of the heater melting away my goose bumps.

            At the time I had just taken it as an indication that the winter season was staring to take over, and feeling angry about it. I could hardly stand the thought of pushing through another long New York winter, my sweet summer so far away.

            Looking back though, and knowing what I do now, the biting cold was almost like an omen.