Poetry by: Gage Thompson | Clayton Watsworth | Ashley Quast | Cody Kessler

Poetry By Ashley Quast

Eye of the Storm

A churning sea
Trapped within glass in the heat of me,
waves crash against the mirror like walls,
And as my blood flows through my soul
The clear vile cracks
Releasing a liquid sotrm
Rising in my eyes.
Tears fall down my cold cheek.
They are not tears of vanquish or despair,
but rather an escape seen only by myself.
My heart pounds, and I feel no blood in my hands.
My finger tips bush across my lips.
Somehow, I miss the sea,
the tides changing inside.
It was the waters, with whom I could confide,
and my skin feels col, frigid and blue.
I know my ocean has frozen.
The deep waters, now snow and ice.
At last I have found happiness.
Bare feet walking on the frost bitten shore.
The tear drop from my eyes land on the sea of ice and melts once more.
It pierced the surface.
I fall.
My hands are cold and white.
My lips are warm.
My blood flows freely.
At last, i am the eye of the storm.

The Bird

Snow won’t wake me
from my poppy seed spell,
for the song bird who sung
is caged within all of my reason.
It awaits not, true loves first kiss...
For a kiss is a kiss
and saves birds not from their prison,
And the crystal
I wore about my neck
Shattered into a thousand pieces
and grew as seeds,
Through and against the ivy and Ceder trees,
high and far into the bows
where a wicker cage hangs
and hold the bird who ne’er sings.
And though a snow falls
I lie undistrubed in a field of poppies.
Perhaps the key is closer than I think
and will break the lock
which contains my spirit, unfree.
Alas, I know not where to look,
save the breast of the black bird in the cage,
And so I climb through the briars and the vines,
reaching the coop where my song bird dwells,
Once seeing no key awaits,
my bird flutters and flies through the bars, as if they are fog,
and I fall to the cushioned earth,
only to wake up and hear my song bird singing.