Puddles of leaves weaved between trees,

Blue bird rushes between paintbrushes,

Creeping thyme altered time,

American pop,

Time to stop.

Powder

Photography by Charlotte Summers who is aspiring to be a contemporary dancer

There lies my blood,
There is those drugs,
Blurs of vision,
The Sounds of collision,
My mouth so numb, I know I'm under my thumb,
I guess, I'm dumb.
The Lump won't go away, It hurts.
Here comes the questions,
Always the questions?
Weak,limbless,dark and skinny.
She is Fading,
She is no-one,
She is no longer a personality,
She is a dependant powder;
lost- lost in a place that is non-existent.
She is a walking question,
'Where are you?',

'Who did you become?',

'How did it get this bad?'.
There is no explanation,
There are no eyes,
The colour vacuumed,
The hum extinct,
Just a drink of relief dripping from her already dead face.

Coin

I hold your face now,
But who held you before?
Coated in gold,
That's what I was told,
Through ancient scents,
You were sent,
Living Patriotic and Proud,
On my hand.

The Nuns

There was something about that obscure band
That stayed with me forever.
They were so aggressive,
Yet relieving.
Red painted lips and nostalgic hair,
Through rare trees,
She was there,
Ghostly and pristine, resembling China,
Shadowed smoke coloured clouds,
Washing her from a jar.

The Moral of These pictures-

Hey! People are different

PEOPLE are regularly out of sync with the world in Rockwell's pictures, but it's not the end of the world.

It's Half

Shell

She was not a little lost, for a moment she felt like Dorothy being transported from Oz.

She had come a long way, from far away lands, well travelled and cultured.

Enduring small moments of beauty she found her own peace.

Why did she sit here? , what was she thinking?

She waited in silent fusions of colour.

Time passed by,her shadow completed, yet she remained motionless.

Outside the window

I sat in my shadowed room, looking out at the new morning, I stared at the brick filled house across the street, I glazed at the clinging ivory, rising above the house roof. Birds had taken up residence among it's dark green roof. They squawked and flickered in the sunshine.

Aware of my own breathing- aware, as well, that I had been listening to the same track for over an hour.
Aware of his beautiful breath.