Window Light

A poem by Isabelle Sorrells

The sun shines down

On the average mahogany floors

And bathes the wood in a square of light

On this sunny afternoon.

The cat lounges

Where the sun touches,

Eyes closed and purring in content,

Fur vibrant under the glare.

In joining her,

To understand the source of her contentment,

I am gladly rewarded

With the pleasant burning of the window’s refraction –

So different from the cold of the dark floor

That I hadn’t noticed before.


A poem by Isabelle Sorrells

All I see

Are shades of gray

All around me.

Dancing in a black and white picture

No sound is heard.

So I pick up a brush

And I paint the world

Shades of rainbow

Never seen before

In this silent film of mine.

Some have come to love the colors I’ve found,

Spreading other colors and even sound

I couldn’t have dreamed of

With their own tools.

But others are doomed to color blindness.

Ready for Change

A poem by Isabelle Sorrells

I’m ready.

Ready for the heat to turn cool,

The sun to become kinder,

The water colder.

I’m ready to replace shorts with pants

And t-shirts with comfy sweaters.

I’m ready for the leaves to turn fiery shades and fall to the ground

And for all the pumpkin flavored things.

I love the summer,

Season of play and swim,

But I’m ready for Autumn,

The season of change.


A poem by Isabelle Sorrells

She scans the shelves

And reads her select few

In the chair in the corner;

Legs draped over the edge and long hair touching the floor,

All sound lost to her ears,

Her chosen selection of words

Hastily written in smudged ink on her arms.


He sits in a wooden chair

Creaky and uncomfortable by the window,

Pedestrians passing by

The smell of coffee and bread in the air

But he notices none of it.

He finds a comfortable position,

Though uncomfortable from the other perspective,

And delves deep into the knowledge and lives of another,

All at his fingertips.


They are lovers

Of the same kind.

Strangers on the street

Who see through the paper

And hear through the ink,

Forever in love

With the written word.


A poem by Isabelle Sorrells

You see them together and look away.

Anything is more interesting

Than that cheesy love,

That romantic infatuation that annoys

Because it never ends

And you’ve moved on from being excited for them.

You roll your eyes

In what has become a reflex

During their displays of affection.

But I also see

That look in your eyes

Those few seconds you are watching.

What is that emotion?

That thought inside your head?

I may be inclined

To call it longing.

My Brief Encounter With Armageddon

A poem by Isabelle Sorrells

I thought I saw Jesus yesterday.

Or maybe even Peter.

He stood on the water as if it were solid ground.

And I was terrified.

This could only mean one thing.

Apocalypse is here!

And I would never get to eat those cookies on my counter.


Much to my relief,

It was just a kid standing on a rock.

And I did get to eat those cookies after all –

An endeavor that I approached with exceeding fervor.


A poem by Isabelle Sorrells

I know its illegal,

And technically,

You don’t know how to skate.

But would you hitch a ride with me

On some unsuspecting truck

Or maybe the bumper of a car?

Preferably vintage,

But no promises.

Oh wait!

You don’t have to skate.

You can bike or roller blade

and skitch too.

You down

For channeling your inner McFly?

Too much for you?

Or not enough?

Cause either way,

I’m full of bad ideas.