"The desert bears only a scathing sun, and nothing more."
"What about mirages?"

Saturday, June 12, 2010

WildFire Falling.

I fell for you
so hard and fast
that hitting the concrete
almost hurt.
I don't know
if I can pick myself
up again.
I guess I'm afraid that
as quickly as you appeared,
you'll fade away.
And like the forest
that held a feast
for the wildfire
I'll have nothing

- - -

Hopefully this will keep some of you dingbats satiated for a little while. The deadline for the Young Writer's Award is rapidly approaching, so it shouldn't be too long until I am regularily posting again. I've chosen two poems to enter, and from what people have said about them, I'd like to say that they've got a least a running chance. Of course, people are sometimes too nice.

A few comments of WildFire Falling. The first three lines I actually came up with just as I was about to drift into sleep. I guess I was just thinking about some stuff that I'd really like to say, but I keep thinking to myself that I'm not ready for that yet. Maybe this poem was my way of communication without really trying or feeling like I'd fail to elaborate on my emotions. Poetry is good that way.

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"Write with our backs to the wind and our faces to the hard, bleaching sun."