soccer

Grass
stains
my shirt
that represents
my team and who we are
people huddle the ball
trying to kick it
some were
that is not
in the huddle.
Peoples breath
steam
through the air.
My chest hurts
from running
in the cold
at night
without water.
my team yells
for each others names.
Coaches
on the benches
their chins
cupped in their hands
the referee
blows
the whistle
as loud as unnecessary
its time to go.

waiting....

Smells
of cinnamon
lumber down my street.
red, green
and gold
coat the lighted houses
Christmas trees
gleam in the windows
decorated with holly.
Ornaments decorate
 the bushes outside
like scattered, polished
marbles.
bells shake
and ring
in the back of your mind.
hot chocolate
rests in my cold, numb hands.
But spirit still surounds me
my family.
 The moon sets over
glowing houses near by.

ANOTHER RIDDLE AHA

Four men were in a boat on the lake. The boat turns over, and all four men sink to the bottom of the lake, yet not a single man got wet! Why?









ANSWER- post your gueses on my blog and i will tell you guys the answer!

cold

Frosted
leaves shatter
under my gray shoes
keeping me from freezing.
Gentle sounds of birds
cooing
there evening songs
ring in my ears
a wild
Christmas carol
Brittle winter
wind cracks
in my face
making my
squinting eyes
water and water.
The brown and
 gray leaves loosing
their rich color
to the harsh winter.
the soft chitter of squirrels,
collecting their harvest
for the frigged days to come,
click in harmony
with the birds.
The forest around me alive
with wind shutters and creeks
the sun falls over the trees
I think I should go in.

FYI

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RIDDLE

What can run but never walks, has a mouth but never talks, has a head but never weeps, has a bed but never sleeps?
















-ANSWER- A RIVER

Winter

I wake up
in the dark
that is so far
away from summer.
I pull my heavy clothes
on over my stuffed up head
that is supposed
to get me
through the day.
Brittle winds
shatters into my face
scraping and chapping
my lips.
the sound of birds
long gone
gives me nothing
to listen to.

Candle

Smells
of pumpkin pie
spice
linger through
the air.
Wax coats
the sides
of the glass
that cradles
the candle.
A
flame
as big
as
the tip of a autumn leave
springs up
in the middle
persevering to
survive.
The burning
wick
shrinks
and shrivels
wearing away.

My perfect place

The wooden
bench under me
creeks
in the breeze.
Moths
cling
to the light
in our windows
cicadas
buzz
and the crickets
chirp
the tune of night.
cold stones
under my feet
send a chill
up my neck
and down my arms.
Fireflies
flicker
on and off
the occasional shuffle
in the brush
widens my eyes
even though all I
can see
is the
stars
and the moon
shining over me
and my family
as if it meant something.
I yawn
and lean back onto
the old
rickety bench
making it creek.
my eyes shut.
I breath in the air
it smells
of moist
dirt
ceder
and the calorado
river.
this is my world
my ranch

fire

Bolts of fire
blast
out of the pit
crackling
red hot ash
flies
away from the fire
the dieing
then drifting off
the wood
screeches
as the fire
gobbles it up
and spits it out.