A poem by Isabelle Sorrells
I look at my likeness
And wonder what its like on the other side.
What does that version of me see?
Does she see me on the outside, or the in?
I raise my finger to the glass
And she does the same.
We touch
And I am underwhelmed
But then
Am overcome by a sense
Of vertigo.
Everything that was once right is left
And what was once up is down.
Am I the originial,
Or the reflection?
A poem by Isabelle Sorrells
Sometimes I find myself
Forgetting
I am not alone.
And I have control over the lies
In my head
With His help.
And I forget
That God isn’t just enough,
He’s more than enough.
His love abounds and
He has set me free,
So its up to me to live it out.
A poem by Isabelle Sorrells
Different is hard.
Very hard.
And its,
Well,
Different.
But you know what?
Its better than being the same as everyone else.
The tide pulling against you is strong
When you go against the crowd.
At least when you are different
You know how to think.
And despite of the difficulty
And social shame
Its a heck of a lot more fun.
Dare to be different.
.
. “Whenever you find yourself on the side of the majority, its time to pause and reflect.” – Mark Twain
.
A poem by Isabelle Sorrells
I have heard and read,
What I believe to be a lie.
“Show, don’t tell.”
A piece of advice given to searching writers.
However,
I know,
Hemingway would be
Deeply offended.
A poem by Isabelle Sorrells
We can be infinite.
But we don’t have to be infinite forever in time,
Just for forever now.
A poem by Isabelle Sorrells
It is a wonderful thing
When you make that choice,
That change in lifestyle.
You are granted a beautiful freedom
When you stop living for yourself –
Trying to gain “self-love” through the world, and, well, yourself.
When you decide to do life for the sake
Of God
And others.
His burden replaces all others,
And wow,
It is amazing
Just how light it is!
A poem by Isabelle Sorrells
The letter B,
The sky,
Forget-me-nots,
The ocean,
Sadness,
Your mother’s china,
Cobalt,
And a firetruck in Texas?
With white?
Why?
A poem by Isabelle Sorrells
They are a celebration of many things;
Of how many years we have survived on this earth,
Or, more darkly for some, how many years closer we are to death.
A reminder of the glorious day we were brought into this world.
But I also think it should be a celebration,
At least an appreciation,
Of the incredible work, pain, and love our mothers gave to bring us here.
Thank you, mom.
Happy birthday!
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.
A poem by Isabelle Sorrells
When the sun hits those eyes of yours,
Everything I am doing,
Everything I am thinking
Stops.
I am caught unawares
At the glitter
In those beautiful
Blue
Sun-lit eyes.
