Pisces

Pisces is kind to the man with no home,
a friend to the one who betrays,
the inspiration to the woman that lost hope,
at times impatient
all alone
enjoys the quiet
she clings tight to the walls that surround her heart
while wishing for tumbling bricks to free her
forgiveness is a virtue in her life
though never to forget
the past is the key to who she is
relationships molded her life
she is the result of broken marriage
often contemplating youthful fears
through it all Pisces finds a few
a few to trust
a few to love
once loved by Pisces it is forever
pain cannot steal the feeling
trust is the issue
the inner struggle
these walls as high as any prison gate
the guards more stern and bold
quick to run
the sight of fear
moves her feet
she searches daily for that face
face of a familiar friend
at once the guards take break
confidence shines
inside her head
a story is written
a story of her life
unfinished
unpublished
unheard to an outside voice

My friend

Had Inspiration tonight, here goes.....

Bad news
Bad day
rain, emptiness in my bones
hair won't stay down, or dry
all from the falling rain thats now streaming from my face
That comment,
Those words
sending chills through my body
knives through my heart
hopes, dreams, aspirations feel crushed
One day
A day to change my mind
badness making me think its not possible
impossible
at the sight of the bad
the sound of the comment
the coolness from the wind
and the pain from my day
i run
run to him
my friend
not one i chat endlessly with
not one ive spent days with
known for a while
friend for not long
confidant
truly caring there you stand
i run
drenched in rain
chills cover my wet body
I search the crowds
faces and faces
to find you
my familiar friend
we both have pain
hurt
sorrow from unchangeable childhood memories
different worlds we were born into
different situations
yet we meet
we mend
you and me
me and you
trust
its been so long
but i trust you
I scan the streets
the homes
sidewalks
bridges
in my pain
in that sorrow
i search
search for you
my friend
with open arms
open heart
open ears
i spot you
standing out amoung the chatter
i run to you
to your arms
feeling spill out
to you
my confidant
safety is back
the rain begins to dry
tears retrace back to where they started
i feel true friendship
often
i search for you

Sci Fi

There he is across the room. His hair slightly covering his right eye as he conversating with friends over weekend plans. I continue to glance over, admiring his beauty- his perfection.
“Judy Anthony, Do you understand?” Mrs. Rice is standing at the chalkboard now glaring at me. She interrupted my daydream and gave the class a great opportunity to stare at me, the new girl.
“Yes mam,” I managed to utter while trying to gather my thoughts. I’m not sure what it is about him, but I know this has to stop. The constant thoughts of him, endless staring, and butterflies must stop, all of it. I must pull together my desires and remember the mission. I must keep in mind the reason I am at Stork High School in Salt Lake City. I remember sometimes of how my life was until I was “chosen.” Before that day I had been an average eighteen-year-old girl in New York City. My name was Scarlet Bennett and I lived alone in a stuffy, crowded apartment. I struggled working nights at a local café while trying to get noticed in the music industry. I wished to be discovered so badly, but not by them. Before the day I was chose I didn’t believe in the supernatural; I wasn’t superstitious at all. That night I become a believer. I was walking down that cool street back to my dingy apartment after a long shift at the café. I remember it was a cold December night. As I walked I could see my breath being released into the hair and frost nibbling the tips of my toes. I’ll never forget when I spotted him. There he stood a few feet in front of me. He told me to do exactly as he said. My initial reaction was that I was being robbed. I clung more tightly to my purse. I never imagined it was me he wanted, not my money. He stood about six feet tall and had on a black leather coat. His pale face was slightly lit up due to the street light overhead. His eyes were blue and his face looked angry. He reached for my hand and we were gone.
“Excuse me, Miss Anthony would you like to join the rest of the class and stop daydreaming?” Mrs. Rice is now positioned over my desk glaring down at me. I could feel the blood rush to my face as I look up at her in embarrassment. The bell rang shortly after that ending my misery. As I walked down the hall I heard my name. I turned to see him, Michael Gray, standing by my side as we make our way down the crowded hallway.
“I hate that class,” he said as we walked. I could smell his cologne fill the air I breathed. He stood about six one, which reminded me of the first time I met Shane, that night in the alley. Michael wore a pale blue polo shirt and blue jeans. As we walked people from all directions said hello to him. He was rather popular.
“So, any big plans for the weekend?” he asked.
“Not really,” I noted.
“Well some friends are going to come over to my place. Your welcome to come.”
“I’ll see if I can make it,” I answered.
I really wanted to go. I craved the feeling of being next to him. It had only been here a couple of months and every time we talked the butterflies returned. I loved being with him or even just talking to him. I knew I needed this opportunity I was supposed to “take” him soon.
Later that night I had to meet with my peers. They informed me that he had to become one of us in a month, prom night. He would become a stalker of the night, brainwashed by thoughts of war. I didn’t want to rob him of his human life or even take him but I had no other choice.
The next few weeks passed by and I grew closer to him after the party at his house- since the night we kissed. I had been avoiding my peers and the butterflies I got when I saw him had multiplied.
One day as we walked to Biology he asked the question I had been dreading, the moment I’d never forget. He looked down at me and said, “Will you go to prom with me?” Instinct took over. I tried to vanish the thoughts but I only heard Shane’s words.
“This boy Michael has what it takes. He can get people to join us by his charm. He can be the new taker. Scarlet, you must take him prom night! We met with the opposing forces a little over a month ago and we must go back to our home with a victory! We need Michael’s strength. We need him, or you know what happens.”
I trembled at the thought and stared at him. “So, Will you go?” he repeated.
“I’d love to,” I responded with a sick feeling deep within my gut. Truth is, I did want to go. I wanted to buy a beautiful dress and spend a whole night dancing with him. A whole night to pretend I was Scarlet Bennett again, to be his girl. But reality was what I knew I had to face. I was at Stork High pretending to be Judy Anthony just to steal the life of the boy I’d grown to love. I would be forced to convert him into a life of fighting, a life of battling with the enemy. I must take him… soon.

Fire Engine Red

Dedicated to my father and his encouragement, love, and friendship.

"Whatcha doing?" I asked as I walked bare foot through the yard. It was a warm day and my dad was knelt down beside the old tractor in our backyard. He reached down and grabbed his tools to begin painting the tractor.
"Let me try that," I said as I knelt down beside him to mock his position. He had worked on the tractor for weeks preparing to paint it. He got the rusty tractor from a friend and worked night after night to make this old tractor look new again.
There were many nights I can remember getting ready for bed and running outside with my wet hair swinging as I ran. I would run out and see Dad sanding under the light from a small lantern that he sat at the top of the tractor. I would say goodnight and do the same the next night. He spent lots of time in that yard preparing to paint.
Everyone has a memory from their childhood that they cherish. This is mine. While other little girls my age were inside playing with barbies,having tea parties, or playing dress up in their mother's heels and lipstick. You could find me barefoot in the yard next to my daddy in shorts and a t shirt watching him work. He worked on tons of things. I used to frequently say,"My daddy can do anything!" That day my short knotted hair was pushed back and my bold freckles were gleaming due to the afternoon sun.
"Please dad," I urged on. I never thought my dad would let me try such a challenging task at eight years old. However, my father looked over at me and handed me the shiny silver paint can and cord. He had worked countless nights to get this tractor ready to paint, yet he handed over the tool like I was a pro. He gave no directions, just continued to sit next to me and watch.
As I pressed down the cool metal button the paint sprayed. The color was red --fire engine red. As I painted my father repeated," Don't stop. Keep your hand moving slowly. Whatever you do keep painting. Your doing great, keep moving. Don't be nervous." I felt like I could do anything in the world. I was in control. He believed in me. Now ten years later, the relationship between my father and I has continued to grow. I often refer back to that day and replay my father's words.
When days are too long and times get real tough, I remember. "Keep going. Your doing great, whatever you do keep moving." The words remind me to keep going and soon my storm will pass. My father has always been and always will be my encouragement and strength-my rock. I'll never forget the day I painted- fire engine red.