Monday, November 1, 2010

Daisies by Victoria Overdorf

There is a house at the the end of the road with a hundred wilted daises; a thousand fallen leaves, and a sea of parched grass. The house has a tree. It has shriveled with age and inevitably became a memory of the times before the house was built. It's windy on this day, and the branches of the tree are bending in an unnatural way. A few of them snap off and fall to the ground and smash the fragile leaves. The balance has been disrupted. The branches of which are supposed to be part of the tree, have fallen. The leaves aren't the main focus of the yard anymore. All that can be thought about the house now is that it looks broken and unkempt. There isn't anyone to move the branches, so they remain where they fell. Over a year, more branches fall; some landing atop the roof, others continue to collect in the grass. The house has now been labeled "abandoned". If a person had lived there, they would have had the "decency" to remove the branches. The occupant had died silently long ago, and had left the house and the tree to the elements.

Morning Haiku by Victoria Kreyden

>
The dewdrops glisten
As the sweet sunshine peeks through--
The world is so still.

9 Through 5 by Sharla Steiman

This is seeing the world differently
This is to the in between of blue and pink
The purples with the punk gut cuts
And the silver battle wounds
With the big pupils and shaved eyebrows
We are the youth that watch the trees move