Dead Leaves Pull Harder

Trees have leaves; obviously. Though have you ever noticed that sometimes it’s just as hard, if not harder to pull a dead leaf off than a fresh one?
This is sort of how life works; newer things in your life are easier to separate yourself from, whereas something that’s been in your life for awhile is harder to detach from. I thought to myself that all these leaves, are attached to trees that give the leaves life; even still, leaves die. It reminded me, that not all things that appear to benefit you, truly do or will in the long haul. As far as people go, we sometimes cling to what we want or what we need; in the most harsh of cases we lose our morals, our minds, our hearts, or our life. Sometimes it’s not even our choice to be a leaf on a certain tree.

There is an upside though.. While leaves die, and crunch under your feet during the Fall, don’t they also come back in the Spring? You may lose your color and be a detached leaf on the ground, but there’s a new bloom just around the corner. Maybe you’re meant to be knocked down to be picked up.

Truth be told, you can crumble like a leaf many times attached to your tree of life. You just have to decide whether or not to bloom again.


What You Put Out, Must Be You.. Yes?


It’s a harsh reality we live in where the only depth of a person we know is what they choose to dish out to the world; for an example, I post some sad things, some gloomy things, some have even put it as, “a bit serious for my age.” The truth is yes, at a fundamental level I do believe the things I put into the world, and sometimes I do drown in a puddle of bitter-sweetness called emotions; and if you want to consider me a one-dimensional person you may think I’m completely burdened by my life. The truth is that -as a dimensional human being like everyone else that rests on this planet- I’m not all doom and gloom; it’s human nature to rant about your day, and drawing and writing are both therapeutic ways for me to vent. I’m sorry that I find it difficult to write about how luminous the red flowers were in my garden today, and instead I wrote about how I burned my feet on asphalt; but pain has to come out somehow. On another personal note, I prefer to keep my happy memories to myself; those are cherished moments of my life, and I’d rather have them in my memory than be plastered all over the world; then that brings up, “Well, why would you only want your negativity broadcasted to the world?” Because it’s completely covered up through prose and poetic words. At least I can pretty up my wrongs with colors and words; you can’t cover up when the greatest moments of your life crumble beneath your very feet. Yes, this is a ramble, this is a rant; no pretty words or poetic prose.

It just needs to be said that the surface of everything is not where the greatest things lie or where the best is really revealed; the surface of the ocean can be indigo and flat, but it is the bright creatures underneath that tell the story.

Needing Myself

It’s funny how easy it can be for someone to tune out the world; to just breath in air that only gets filtered through their lungs.

I’ve always needed that.
To walk outside and feel a cleansing air, filled with the smells of freshly damp grass, blooming flowers; to hear the hum of bark around a tree, or the whistling song of leaves.

I’ve always needed that.
To feel the brisk short strokes of pencil across a paper, to hear the soft flick of paint against a canvas, to see the splash of water as I clean the bristles.

I’ve always needed that.
To get entranced in pages, reading a story that isn’t mine, realizing my life is a subtle story compared to these masquerading characters.

I’ve always needed that.
To have the minuscule moment in time where the only person in my world is me, and I feel the grand flush of red across my cheeks as my energy refills. To know that I’ve come back revitalized, filled with jovial aura once more.

I’ve always needed that.
To be my best self for the good of others, I must focus on being my best; by myself.

NPWM Twenty-Four: Me

Unkempt hair flies all around me,
a somber golden color mimicking the summer day.
Freckles on shoulders of prominent collarbones,
Making up the constellations on the surface.
Soft, rich brown eyes scour the forest,
I’m surrounded in fields of green.
Music dances in my head to the rhythm of the breeze,
I am one with the universe, and I wish to please.

NaPoWriMo Twelve: Palms

She lived in a world where she could hideaway.
Shielding yourself from the world was easy when you’re prey,
Shedding not a morsel of her guard, to come out and play.

Today the glory of a screen holds more attention,
The bright lights in her eyes don’t shine as bright as the power in her hand.
Tumultuous coming of age stories are embedded in the palms of the young.

Under the dazzling sparkle of a group you won’t find her,
Underachiever high scores are what make the night shine.

Very little can be done in this day and age.
Venomous companies latch on to the prey,
Very little is accomplished, when sucked into the palm of your hand.

(Going to include some of my pictures with my poems now)

NaPoWriMo Eleven: Bitten

Let’s get Lost,

In this Hidden City of Glass,

Where if I Stay,

The Fang of The Burned, will Bite me.



  • I’ve yet to explain my poetry in the past 11 days of this challenge, but I thought this one -being so simple- maybe a little explanation would take it to the next level.
  • “Lets get lost,” I am referring to two people. “The hidden city of glass,” refers to love; love while very romanticized and lovely, is still an easy thing to shatter. “Where if I stay, the fang of the burned, will bite me.” is to create the image that if these two people choose to fall in love -especially the female in this case, which in my imagination is me- she will fall in love with him despite his darkness (burned), and will endure the pain of being with him (bite).


  • I would also like to say this challenge was inspired by the lovelies participating in the month of poetry along-side me (And of course everyone else doing the challenge!)