Paperweight Poetry

Spring comes, and suddenly I am born Summer and I am burning with all the life I still have ahead  Autumn's here and I am slowly becoming worn But by winter's cold, I am inevitably dead.   -anna sluder 

I want to feel the world bursting inside of my chest, I want to be the burnt embers of summer and the leaves of the fall, I want to be a hurricane never put to rest, I want to be everything and nothing at all.  -anna sluder 

I hear the world rattle, the sky cracking it's face Lightning tails onto each growl of thunder Thunder hoping that lightning will blunder As I wonder whose winning in the sky's stormy race.  -anna sluder 

******************** I drink her in like the drizzling rain , The kind that comes before a mighty thunderstorm , For even though she sparks the unwanted thunder , She always pours herself out just to keep me warm.  ******************** -anna sluder 

Everywhere that she went Flowers chased her through the air  As if the dancing wind had sent The petals to be laced into her hair And as they intertwined with her locks She sat and watched them waltz on the breeze  But her father was in rage and in shock That this insolent girl wouldn't think of the bees!  So the flower petals never again frolicked in her hair But soon the butterflies took their place  Flitting and skipping with her everywhere  So that she'd remember she wasn't a alone or a disgrace  And as she pranced along with the butterflies In the same meadow where she once watched the flowers  He couldn't find anything wrong, an excuse, or any why To drag her from the meadow, besides exerting his own power  So the girl left forever, but didn't understand why She must leave a place of only beautiful entities, For would her father ever lie?  So all she could think, was the problem must be me  As her father's rage grew

I love the way the clouds move As if they are swaying in a prance  Like the sun is their spotlight And the wind is the music to their dance.  -anna sluder 

I wonder who I am When I place a thin, birdlike palm to the mirror Am I fettered like a dam? Or are my wings not confined by any fear?  I wish not to be afraid of the ground below my feet Perhaps if anything it should be my wings That are quite too meager and petite Too haul the weight of all these things The bonds of fear that shackle me to the mirror  Turn out to be nothing, when I do not care if I fall  Since I have wings to catch myself when my time appears  And then I will find  that there is no fear that existed at all.  -anna sluder