A color for every day of the week.
                                            
                                                From Monday to Sunday,
                                                It's different all the time
                                                Yesterday I was blue,
                                                 No day is quite the same shade,
                                                In fact, its different minute to minute,

                                                I'm red now, that's my driving forward color,
                                                Oops! Nevermind, blue again,
                                                Red and blue are often at war,

                                               Tommorow morning I may end up gray,
                                               Gray like cement blocks crushing me,
                                               Then red like hot blood,
                                                Blue like ice,
                                               Thats it! Peace between them at last!
                                                It's official, I am purple,
                                               Unforgiving red fire blazing my trail and
                                               Blue, wet fog steadying me.
     
                                              Yes, this color I get a lot,
                                              Whenever I pour my soul out on paper
                                              I am purple.

                                                                                             Emily Norris.

New Poem:




                                                         What is friendship?
                                                            
                                                     More than, "Talk to ya later."
                                                     More than, "Hey, how've you been?"
                                                     Frienship is listening more then you talk,
                                                     Frienship is letting the other lean,
                                                     Yet not being too proud to be held up.

                                                     Freindship is patients through seasons,
                                                     Spring and medows as well as sleet and thunder,
                                                    It is being there when those dead leaves are falling away,
                                                    And letting the other hold the basket to catch yours.

                                                   Friendship is laughing even when you've heard it before,
                                                   Making days special,
                                                   Exploring comanalities and differences,
                                                   And ALWAYS catching them in trust falls.
                                                   Remembering cotton candy and pin wheels
                                                   And any games of pretend,

                                                   More than Facebook, twitter, or texting,
                                                   It's a connection that's part of being human,
                                                   Like a flock of birds,
                                                   Together we're flying. 

                                                                                                              Emily Norris. 




                          

What it's all about.
I am a writer and the purpose of this really cool blog is to display poetry and short stories. Prepare to be dazzled by these fantastic phrases. Any comments are welcome.

 
                            
                                                             I am.
                                                  
                                                       What you see:
                                                       The lone wolf in a corner,
                                                       Silent, odd, not cool, the blend in person,
                                                       I laugh, you fools!
                                                       You see not my secret, true identity.

                                                       I am servant of God,
                                                       A winged thing with powers, a world builder,
                                              While others are lost in technology I fly to my secret places,
                                                       Mountains, valleys, rivers, and seas,
                                                      All lovingly sewn by the needle and thread of my mind.

                                                      What you see:
                                                      A passive, quirky weirdo,
                                                      But this is only the front door of me,
                                                      Behind it, frustration, red fires of rage, sorrow, ambition
                                                      And obsession of purpose linger,
                                                    Locked away are they by walls called manners, logic,
                                                     Restraint and shy,
                                                     In the meantime people pass by and I let them,
                                                     I am content as I wait,
                                                    Wait eagerly to unleash the lands and people caged
                                                     Behind my eyes.

                                                                                                             Emily Norris.