top of page
  • Writer's pictureLaine G

Snapping fingers for poetry.

Dear reader,

Alriiiight, I promise this is the last time! I actually can't promise that, BUT who are we to deny some poetry sharing, hm?

How has your writing been? Have you been writing a poem? Or on your journal? A story?

Well, let me show you some of the poems I wrote while in school. Believe it or not, that Creative Writing poems class wasn't the last one I took. I believe I had... three or four poems class. The last one wasn't much option, mostly because I needed the credits, and there wasn't any other class I could take. But, oh well.

Anyway, enjoy!

Heads up: 99% of my poems are untitled. So, I'll write instead the theme of the poems.

Theme: Shadow.

Like the sun and moon. Bright as the sun but quiet like the moon.

The shadow that enjoys socializing and silence. The shadow that enjoys a cup of coffee in the morning but hot chocolate at night. Does it has feelings?

Is it sincere?

Like the yin and Yang. White and black.

The shadow that enjoys movies with popcorn but a glass of wine with a good book. The shadow that’s looks lonely but is always surrounded. The shadow cannot hide movements but it is said you can see emotions—if you look hard enough. Could it be? Can’t this shadow have feelings? A name?

A voice?

Theme: Green

The trees are green, as bright as my teapot,

with the brown handle on the side to match the trunk.

The wooden touch gentle against my palm, gentle as I hug the wooden trunk.

The color green created by the sun against the grass.

Surrounding our large blanket.

Surrounding the brown basket filled with pastries,

and those small sandwiches that you enjoy.

Green is the color we combine as we touch.

Green is everywhere.

As long and as far as the eye can reach.

From where our fingers can touch.

Where our feet can step

the wet grass from the gentle rain.

The small moss growing on the rock nearby. Green. Humid.


Green is there, by day and night

as bright or dark as it can get by the sun and moon

The yellow fireflies surrounding us. Flying. Singing.

The stars surrounding the bright moon. Big and small.

As our emotions grow and diminish.

Hold my hand.

Let’s paint the world green.

Theme: Prose Poem

The clear sky with the shining stars, fill her heart with joy. The gentle breeze hitting against her skin, she felt no cold. With the moon high enough to love and reflect again the lake, she walked in the quiet woods. It was a routine. She wasn’t hard to miss. Her white hair dancing against the breeze. Her hands gently touching the cold lake, and yet no movement had passed. Though she was alone, she seemed happy. Smiling. Her lips pressed together, as if she were humming a song that I cannot hear. Her dancing feet against the grass with droplets. Had it rain that evening? Her white gown moved in different waves, swaying with her hips instead of the wind.

I cannot touch her. Why can’t I reach her? Those movements seem familiar. Her hair. Her hands. It all seemed familiar. I cannot see her eyes.

But it wasn’t until the morning was starting to rise that she had stopped to watch it. With her hands laced behind her, shoulders loose. Stress free. The silence was no more as birds started to chirp. The sun rays were starting to show and shine across the lake, across the grass. She turned her gaze at me. A wide smile spread over her face as she disappeared slowly from her feet to her eyes. Light brown with a hint of green. As I opened my eyes, I felt a tear that had fallen down my cheek, I bring myself to life, to reality. Looking forward to seeing my ghost tonight once more.

Well, dear reader, I hope you enjoyed this poem streak. Next time, will be more into writing. Fiction to be more exact. My area of expertise.


Recent Posts

See All


bottom of page