“It’s loud…”

“What?”

“Too loud.”

“What is, Vivian?”

“My head. It’s too loud here.”

“What makes you say so, sweetie?”

“The thoughts say so. They very loud.”

“Do the thoughts have any idea how to stop the loudness?”

“No, they just says it is too loud. “

“They?”

“Yes. They says it makes them hurt all over.”

“How can we help them?”

“I don’t want to talk anymore. They are fighting now. I want to go back. Bye.”

“Okay, goodbye. Who is this now?”

“Hello? My name is Justin.”

“Hi, Justin how are you?”

“Fine, I guess. Everyone is arguing.”

“How are you feeling regarding what is happening?”

“It’s loud.”

“What?”

“Too Loud.”

“What is, Justin?”

Specks appear in evenings cotton candy sky:

Brilliant blues like the ocean serene,

But blues turn to gray and fear erupts.

Deep scents of lavender and rain follow thunderous nights;

Lavender soft and rain soaking your tongue.

Lying in a field as night turns to day;

Sadness entwines sky and soul:

Almost as if a loved one was lost on a stormy day, and together we mourn.

A calm drive home turned treacherous.

Spirit of horse under moons freedom;

Anger, Fear, and Adrenaline pushing you through the pain.

Until loss is imminent and life passes without you following…

A trumpet of fire beckoning the lone wolves;

Pounding pavement from steady feet, love hidden in grasping hands,

Running from danger of being found.

No more shall I run from sweet confrontation:

With truest radiance by my side, we stand strong and proud.

Gray fades to unleash vibrant hues of pink and blue.

Red becomes the brisk blush 

across hidden faces. Orange finds

natures true beauty. Yellow 

all alone under the sun.

Green and Blue forming the radiant

souls reflection. Violet

stands tall with pride and love. And

no: white, gray, and black are not colours; they are shades.

Contribution from Natalie Fischer, Makayla Gertken, Kjersti Halvorson

Evening mist surrounds

solemn red blossoms stand proud

against summers moon.

Protruding greens sit and wait

for one to bloom into pink.

Waiting for a chance

this season shall bring new rain

changing as they grow.

When that change finally comes

everything is beautiful.

Waiting for a chance

bloom brighter than ever perceived

a love for the new.

Silent nights and silent days

but they are not lonesome, nay.

Hoping for a sign

waiting for the signal, peace

never comes; unfound.

But the solemn pink blossoms

forever remain the same.

I.

The trees,

Echoing lost songs,

All for those who listen.

A forest,

Like a young gossip troupe,

Sharing secrets.

II.

Alone,

I wander a forest

Dreaming of fickle things:

Love-

In all forms- must be

Beautiful, I’d like to think.

III.

I asked.

You weren’t one to listen,

But you heard.

My pleas

Of newfound hope and love

Deep within me were filled.

IV.

Alone, yes,

But lonesome, nay…

I have the trees and hope to guide me lest I stray.

Steady,

doth eyes wander;

Looking for signs above,

dreaming of days to come and go,

Alone.

Steal a smile at your acquaintance.

Memorise the every movement they make:

From their posture to the crinkle of the eye.

Ask from your heart, save to your mind.

Remember their voice: melancholy, angry, joyous.

Spend time walking to nowhere and anywhere.

Think of their favourite things;

Store every second you have together in your fondest memories.

Now realise how utterly in love you have become…

Smile away your fears and doubts.

You are worth as much as they are:

Never forget.

Clear and bright on a solemn night

Long overdo. Where mystery

Awaits to those who ask.

In silent moonlight, surrounding the

Radiant faces of those hidden in love;

Envelope the young and old alike in deep mist.

If I dont believe in love, what should I believe?

Looking around, nothing we can’t see.

You will learn to love: never fret.

The trees lush hues of blue and green; The stars brighter that ever perceived.

Looking around, nothing we can’t see.

How beautiful it must be: to believe.

The trees lush hues of blue and green; The stars brighter than ever perceived.

What is it like? To love?

To give as the trees above do in hopes we flourish together.

How beautiful it must be: to believe.

What is it like? To love?

Imagine holding a star in your hands and never wanting to let go.

If I don’t believe in love, what should I believe?

To give as the trees above to in hopes we flourish together.

Imagine holding a star in your hands and never wanting to let go.

You will learn to love: never fret.

Hello!

My name is Claire Risler and this is my poetry blog. I will post new poems I have written- all of my own creation. I write poetry to inspire others and myself to look around us in the world and give back to it. I hope to spread some creativity and inspiration around to the general populace. Enjoy!