There is crimson and blue on the floors,

Where the players shoot, shoot, shoot, and score,

In the stands the crowd cheers,

For all of Lawrence to hear,

Basketball is in our DNA,

Ever since James Nai,

When I look into the lonely night sky,

I am reminded of yesterday’s passion.

Didn’t the stars fill the sky last night?

Didn’t your face reflect

The radiance of the moon?

We made music in the air, dancing

Under heaven’s light.

Give me an unagitated evening,

where I could sleep-walk

under a light rose-petal sky,

and arrive at your door,

40 miles away,

just in time for dinner.

Have you seen her? You must have seen her,

she’s one of the trees, with all the rain

that she can bear:

Eye color? Colorado green.

Hair color? The evening sun.

Don’t mistake her voice

for the hidden opal stream.

A star-studded with nothing but dreams,

Walking the path she had laid.

Big things would come they say,

Nothing but lies through the door way.

Sometimes all it takes is

A lyric of a song 

A fragment of a conversation 

A moment captured in a photograph 

Then suddenly there you are 

Using whatever you can 

Napkins, paper, your own skin 

I believe that I am tasty Hershey Bar.

I’m 4'11" and, I think I’m as tall at the great big Redwood tree.

I’m as handsome as a daisy.

When fall comes it brings multi-colored leaves that are the best to look at.

I believe that I’m a great big shiny star.

I am in love with a girl… who is afraid of breakfast,

who brews coffee in the morning like gasoline feeding a starving engine.

Her fingers dance around the machinery of her waist out of step with reality.

Not all passion is love or an action, 

it is a feeling and can be full of hatred.

The enemies of which we seek,

the monsters that we associate in our dreams are stuck within our heads.

The fans knew it was the end

Their championship hopes were looking as bleak as a stormy night

As the star player fell down in fear

There was a crack that was clear

For his leg bone was fractured with an ambulance near

I can hear the loud silence

coming from the 100s of seats.

The pristine Steinway grand sits right in front of me.

I touch the black bench and feel its leathery surface.

I sit down and realize

Things I know to be true:

I have black hair and brown eyes.

I love cashews and reading.

Being around people makes me happy.

I have a mom, dad, and one sister.

I am happy.

Some days I’m not quite so happy.

But that’s okay.

the moment that i lost him/i threw my belongings into my backpack/grabbed my hiking boots, and headed/to the great appalachian trail/where each step i took/over the dusty earth/reminded me/of growing up//i heard my dad/in my best memories/speaking/breathing/as he walked tall beside me/and constan

Chicago, my beauty;

Chicago, my heart. 

Chicago, the deep breath of 

Every morning I start.

Chicago, my summer;

Chicago, my light.

Chicago, the way her buildings

Shine in the night.

It’s fire

It’s ice

It’s steam

It’s crowded

It’s lonesome

It’s good

It’s life

It’s death

It’s purgatory

It’s yours

It’s mine

It’s ours

The diver and the coach as still as a rock

Because the diver failed her dive because she balked

The coach’s eyes were filled disappointment and fear

But do not worry she will better next year

She will be better next year

Sometimes things happen

It is a part of life

But no one said it would be this hard

Take her back to the start

In the beginning it was all fun and games

The dictionary defines a “friend” as “a person attached to another by feelings of affection or personal regard.”

So are they homework answers?

Project partners?

A list of names?

None of the above.

New definition:

I know you tell me to write about myself

But I am not the one who deserves to have his ego coaxed

My mom, Maritza Paul is the one

The greatest woman that has ever been

Starting off with almost nothing

And rising to be the queen

It is the spirit that fuels the body.

It awakens fires long burned cold.

It restores the broken heart.

It heals the scars cut long ago.

my fingers rest above the piano

and their shadows trace my presence

upon its ivory white keys. i

inhale, my fingers rising gently, and i

exhale, pushing into the keys,

ringing several notes at a time.

The initial absolute of "black"

fizzes out; reds and blues and shapes pulse

with every beat of your racing heart.

You can feel her hands, see the basic outline of them,

of her shoulders, her curved collarbone.

As you reach for her -

I grow from a place

where emerald rain

pounds against the

land, painting the

hills bright green. I

paint, too, hoping to

leave my mark on the

world.

Passion: A word I can’t even say because of my lisp.

Inspire: Another word I can’t say because of my lisp.

Things like this are the reasons many people lose hope.

We go in with a mindset of: “They are going to laugh at me”

Or

Today, I am the only song you’ve ever known all the words to.  I am the first person who ever meant it and the last thought you can manage before you close your eyes. You look at me, and all you see is light. You look at me, blinded, and you tell me you’re the happiest person alive.

The world of song is like a gentle stroke of a paint brush on a canvas creating what ever beautiful creation you desire.  

I awaken you from your slumber,

as I slide you out of your safe, velvet bed.

I ask you to help me play the tunes

that dance around in my head.

I taste the sweet cleanser that resides on your reed,

as I dampen it, 

he wouldn’t meet her eyes

when he told her that he met someone,

suggesting they take a break to figure themselves out.

“but I love you,” she said over the lump in her throat,

eyes burning with unshed tears.

“there’s nothing for me to figure out.”

my laughter quieted 

when she looked at me.

there hasn't been anyone else in the world

who makes me as still as she does,

because her eyes sparkle even when

she's frowning,

and she I know she can see