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News: I moved the keyboard to my room and now I feel strongly inclined to tell the world that I adore Phantom of the Opera. Everything is perfectly normal and no, I don't have access to any secret underground labyrinth...yet.

--12 August 2017 --

Quote: Words are pale shadows of forgotten names. As names have power, words have power. Words can light fires in the minds of men. Words can wring tears from the hardest of hearts. --Patrick Rothfuss, The Name of the Wind

The Fellowship

May 25, 2011

"Little Things" by Squeaks

I wanted to share a poem I wrote with you folks before I get into the topic of writers being emotional creatures :P It's called "Little Things"; I wrote it with a friend in mind who simply makes those little things in life become all the more appreciated :)

Google Images



Little Things

By Squeaks. Dedicated to Night Owl.
25 March, 2011

Green.
Glistening green leaves, swaying back and forth. 
Heavily sagging off of branches.
The smell of wet, crushed dirt,
Mixed with morning sunshine
And rainfall. 
The joy of little things. 

Little things are special jewels
Shroud in mystery. 
Only thieves and only fools
Would cut them out from history. 

Burnt amber.
Eager glow of fire, caressing wooden boughs. 
Archaically snapping & twisting in circles. 
The smell of rusty metal, soft flame,
Curdling with the winter fog
And snowflakes. 
The joy of little things. 

Little things are found in friends
In cheerful smiles and laughter. 
Even if our friendship ends, 
Sweet mem'rys stay thereafter. 

Charcoal.
Calmly rolled like chalk, along the silky face of rocks. 
Silently meandering like Egyptian hieroglyphics. 
The smell of cold
And bruised water. 
The joy of little things. 

Little things are found in pain
In tears and heavy sighs. 
Yet even when our love's restrained, 
A simple touch can ease the cries. 

Cream. 
White clouds, plodding across the expansive sky.
Bumbling by like morning soup.
The smell of fragrant rose-petalled water. 
And the haunting friendly clasp. 
The joy of little things. 

Little things are found in ghosts,
In all the gone have-beens. 
The sweet embrace, the joyful toasts,
The bashful smile, rain dancing spins. 

Blue. 
Oceans pounding, never ceasing--pull and push against the coastline. 
Crashing waves, foaming crests; little puddles. 
The smell of salt and humidity,
The spritz of water against skin. 
The joy of little things. 

Little things are found in eyes,
In gazes soft and kind. 
The blues, the browns; the fool, the wise,
Each beckon, break, define. 

Little things. 
Crisp paper, splattered in ink, destined for you. 
New sunrise: red, orange & pink, rising to view. 
Warm heart beats, scattering graphs, monitors blipping.
Soft embrace, small joyful laughs, puddle skipping.

Little things are found every day
One's the smallest, yet sweetest, delight. 
A hearty grin, brine...ocean spray,
Hope flickers in warm glow of candlelight. 


From the blue beyond,

Squeaks.

3 comments:

  1. I love all the amazing word pictures there! And all together, they make a beautiful poem. :)

    love it.

    ReplyDelete
  2. Cool poem! I love the subject about enjoying the little things.

    ReplyDelete
  3. Fantastic. :) I need to work on imagery. I can rhyme, but imagery comes harder.

    I love this poem. *nod* Always ready to read some descriptive stuff, wot!

    ReplyDelete

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