A poem by Isabelle Sorrells

The berth of my death

Is warm

And cerulean

With light cast down into its depths in beams.

It would’ve been an amazing place

Had it not also been my grave.

The surface too far away,

My strength gone,

I start to give in to the peace under the air.

But you swim to my rescue,

And we burst through the surface together.

If not for your bubbles,

I would’ve been lost

To those warm, blue waters.

Bubbling Laughter

A poem by Isabelle Sorrells

Everything tinted blue

Suspended in a liquid anti-gravity.

Limited air,

Pressure of the silence ambient.

You float above me

And we blow into each other’s faces,

Breaking the silence.

Bubbles surround us

Leaving a cushion of white balloons in our wake,

All slowly rising to the top.

When the clouds clear,

Our smiles are seen

And the rest of our precious air floats out

As muffled laughter pounds at our ears

And we burst through the surface again

To laugh and to breathe.

Summer Nights

A poem by Isabelle Sorrells

There is no better feeling than sitting around the fire with friends on a cool summer’s eve.

Laughter in the air, smiles on all our faces as we lift the slick glass bottles of pop to our lips.

Lounging in chairs of all shapes and sizes, some sitting much too low to be comfortable, spraying bug spray and cooking Nathan’s over the flames.

The only light provided by the stars in the sky and the fire in the middle of our circle.

My mind focused on the here and now, blissfully content with the people I love.

Nothing is better than this.

All Fall Down

A poem by Isabelle Sorrells


It burns like a fire.

Warming the bones,

Scorching those close enough to touch.

Fueled by righteous fury and the kindling of a hurt disposition,

The bearer too enticed and justified by the flame

To realize their very soul was being reduced

To Ashes.


A poem by Isabelle Sorrells

A never-ending ocean of white lights,

But at a closer examination

Galaxies of possibilities are born in our imagination,

Kindling an emotion the human-race is best known for,

Curiosity urging us to search, to find, to learn.

Its an environment that taunts us with its beauty as it looms above,

Daring even the earliest of mankind

To go forth into that unknown oblivion

And explore.


A poem by Isabelle Sorrells

I love the airport.

Busy ones – of course.

The faces,

The stories,

The feeling of community

With the shared discomfort of travel

Among so many strangers.

I love

watching the people go by

And seeing the differences,

And trying to guess

Their story.

Where that running man in uniform could be going

Or why that girl is crying so hard.

Sometimes I wish

I could sit in an airport all day

And capture the unique faces

In a drawing,

In a non-creepy way – of course.

I could do without the flying though.