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.
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.
A poem by Isabelle Sorrells
Why would I look at the sky,
When the stars in his eyes are so breath-takingly bright?
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.
A poem by Isabelle Sorrells
I want to come down,
But my mind resists.
I remember what the ground is like,
But I don’t weigh enough anymore to descend.
A poem by Isabelle Sorrells
Unforgiveness,
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
A man with a van
Is a family man.
Or, a homicidal pedophile.
Its a fine line.
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.
