Compilation Poem for February 19, 2015 by the Writers of SFYS

A little seed lay in the ground. Smooth, tart and luscious treat. Because I never cared for the blues they leave, they sometimes never come back. My sanity hangs by a thread, facing front on metal chairs, with ankles wrapped. Of course I should have known they were wowed by the candy. It's painful to make this confession, but it's with the devil I converse. Beauty is pain. Your serious song, there lies a woman her back pressing heavy into the valley, her skirt up around her hips. Not a specific destination or future. I saw God walking on I-15. Whose life was balanced on a wire. Life treats me like I just hit a dog and I realized there is more to be happy about than sad. Because Pudding Pops are only savored by the lonely and forlorn. Do what society tells you to. I am waiting for a rebirth of wonder. Hey, what's with the Pudding Pops. They lay tethered to a bed of fear while the joys of youth pass them by. Why the sky, why so high. Find me I am waiting. In order to avoid guilt by association. It takes 100 trees to build a house. When it comes to living authentically, starting here, starting now, I am not pretending. My key, my success in this life comes from the papers of my soul.

Compiled by Laura Smith