Rhythm and Rhyme, Kelsey Schrag [brene brown rising strong .TXT] 📗

I look at a blank piece of paper,

Nothing comes to mind.

My head is blank and no ideas come out.

It’s like I’m looking at a painting with no detail.

This is bad for a writer.

The great American novel couldn’t be written.

Nothing could have been done without ideas.

It doesn’t take a genius to figure that much out.

But not all pieces of art come from ideas.

They come from the heart.

The heart that puts everything into perspective.

The heart that visualizes the hurt,

The pain,

The suffering,

And the loss but more importantly, love.

The heart expresses love more deeply than any book or movie can.

"Love is patient, love is kind; it is never jealous." - 1st Corinthians 13:4-8.

Love can help you through the bad times,

Rejoice with you in the joyous times,

And grieve with you in loss of a loved one.

 

The heart contains so many feelings that you may have to let out all at once.

Anger,

Hate,

Jealousy,

Even compassion.

But another ultimate is love for family.

Family can come in all shapes and sizes.

Family doesn’t have to be the one you live with.

Family can be your best friend, team, and community.

It all depends on who you love.

I guess that’s what the world depends on.

Love.

 

Light of Darkness

Tucked under lock and key,

She began to wonder out the window. 

Cass stared, 

Waiting.

Wind rushing loud and clear around the house,

Causing her fluttering heart.

She did not hear the clacking of the horses hooves on the cobble stone streets,

Nor the batting of wheels over bumps.

Faintly, Cass could hear her mother's sobs.

Mrs. Hamilton protecting her daughter behind closed doors. 

Anxiously awaiting the sound,

An oil lamp in Cass' hand.

Trying to make the creaking of the stairs unheard.

Cass crossed the threshold into crisp air,

Turning and gazing both ways. 

No sign of life.

Cass's light flickering made her shiver more than the cold.

She once glowed,

 

 

 

But quivered to darkness once she knew;

The phantom smell of gunpowder,

Like a ripple in the ocean.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Imprint

Publication Date: 07-16-2016

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