Some poems

It's Different Here

The sun beats heavy on my back,

Its daggers pricking pain on every inch of skin.

All I can feel is the heat in my shirt

Burning the skin where it touched.

My shoulders aching, pinched with pain.

My brother always said it was stupid to wear black

In the heat of the summer.

The water laps at my feet,

Little touches of ice grazing

My toes ever so carefully

Ever so gracefully, brushing the

Sand off my aching feet.

The water that seems to always

be colder than the breeze.

The rush of water in my ears.

The noisiest sound of peace.

A dangerous beauty.

Waves crashing against the smoothest of seashells

Hit over and over and over again

Never bringing more pain than beauty,

They strike with more force than the water

In the lakes back home.

The water here is not the same.

Back home it doesn't make the same sounds,

The swish and the crash of the ocean

Is something I've only found

here.

I walk along the smooth sandy ground,

Avoiding little crabs that scuttle about my feet.

And the rocks that sneak their way beneath my bare heels,

Trying to scratch and poke and prod at my

Delicate breakable human skin.

The noise here isn't like back home either,

The incessant caws

Of hungry birds, who just look

For the next thing to eat.

The breeze that seems to make just enough noise

To be noticeable.

The people you hear

Laughing, singing, calling out to friends.

Picnics, volleyball, somebody over there is singing

melodies, beautiful songs I can't seem to make out the words to.

It's different here. It's happy, it's

Dazzling. Blue skies of paint dumped right out of the can

It's, the perfect shade of glass.

This one's kinda cool