Bringing a penumbra on white
like trees on winter snow
my shadow lends the nature
not physical, but seen
...
There is a veil I can now see,
It blinds my way
To the place
My heart lies in.
...
Mercy, how heaven holds the hopeful at bay
Granting entrance to warblers with pending invitation.
Though holders are less worthy than most;
The golden aura bathes their sins in blinding
...
drowned in a pool of violet
the windows pour forth invisible echos
the leaking panes - my decrepit house-
leaking against a flooding ocean.
...
Contrary, this mark I make
To write is error, I bid -
Mistake! Keeping on hand a
Feeling, neigh? Give others
...
The spirit swims in
shallow beds made
by torrents of tides
whetting rocks, swirled inland.
...
I know what madness is.
When I am up and
You are up but to each other down.
When ceiling walls and
...
Perched on pads, against
azure velvet swaying
with universal song,
firey saphire brilliance
...
Often I wonder when you will
see how ignorant you are
when you try to push your
way over my will
...
Where the water marks
Bury our souls in trance
Laying wishes to beds
Sowed in line, never
...
Somewhere between the snow
that blankets fields
surrounding vacant sections
we were put;
...
I witnessed a mockingbird one morning,
Warming his cockles in my window's sill,
And when I called his attention
He turned as to fly away,
...
When do shades become midnight?
After noises settle and floods
...
Clouds shade the fields of eternal sunshine;
Grains of skepticism fall from pillars bending -
...
Urged by English and Creative Writing professors and friends to reach beyond the classroom, Crystal began to find the inner voice to put her thoughts to paper for the purpose of expression and fulfillment. Presently residing in Utah, Crystal has recently been published in a scholarship literary anthology and is in the throws of submitting a children's book to various publishers. Crystal's previous publications have been in online Gearhead magazine, and local news letters. blog. Crystal presently resides and studies in Utah. http: //profiles.yahoo.com/ttfiend2003 Writer for www.heralddeparis.com)
Blank Canvas
Bringing a penumbra on white
like trees on winter snow
my shadow lends the nature
not physical, but seen
my words do not possess
like my hands bent and contorted
until inked on the crisp vanilla
staining the purity of thought
the pen's blood - black
like its shadow creator
comes forth…