Seeds… By: Lucy Urdahl

You can see where the seeds have been planted,
They are hollow, empty, desolate beings,
Tears are hidden under the blanket of eyelids,
A fake smile has been painted on their mouths.

Now the seeds begin to grow, not sprouting,
just slowly rising through the confinement of the “soil”,
It’s creating a bigger hole, tearing them from the inside out,
They still push on, hoping it’ll die off without love and nourishment.

It keeps growing -growing and growing- it’s at that flimsy film now,
It pushes, then you can hear a faint pop,
It’s broken through, it’s finally ripped.

The tears now escape,
They ask why, why, why, why,
They refuse to be comforted,
because to be comforted will set new seeds,
And that is not a good thing.

It’s growing now,
Making the rip larger,
so large that it looks almost as if it’ll break in two,
They wish it would, because they can then go numb.

It ripped, it tore, it broke,
It’s just a broken thing now,
Sure it still pumps blood,
But that’s the only purpose now.

Broken in two,
Broken from sorrow,
Broken from love,
Broken hearts always cause pain…


One, one life to live
Two, two eyes that can only see so much
Three, three years till I’ll drive
Four, four limbs that will bring me where I have to go
Five, five fingers on each hand to help me keep track
Six, six types of music to calm down too
Seven, seven the worst number but comes up every day, making me get through it
Eight, eight times to try something before you give up
Nine, nine pairs of shoes that cradle my feet
Ten, ten toes that keep me balanced even if life is dizzy

I Am From…


I am from scattered paper,
From cold sprite on a hot day and worn down pencils.
I am from the tall cream house with columns and glass double doors,
Smooth hard wood floors that let you skate in socks.
I am from the large oak tree with a “deck” in it,
Which I helped build during my summers.
The forest that was torn down for Seven Oaks,
The views that will forever be painted in my memory.
I’m from Black Eyed Peas on New Years and the love of action movies,
From Scott and Marlo Urdahl.
I’m from naturally loud voices and the ability to easily lose things,
And from hard work ethics.
I’m from “Don’t smack when eating!” And Dr.Seuss bedtime stories,
And “A,B,C’s”.
I’m from early Christmas mornings,
I’m from Austin Texas and the south.
Talerine casserole and Fritos corn dip,
From wondering into neighbor’s yards.
Being forced to put up a fence,
To keep the curious kids from angering the neighbor.
With floppy hats and swim suits,
In the sunny heat of Florida on our fridge.
All of these are paintings that cover those scattered papers,
and those scattered papers are what I thrive for each and every day.

Letter to Thanksgiving

Dear thanksgiving,
I guess you would be a “forgotten” holiday,
Everyone is already getting ready for Christmas.
People don’t see how amazing you are,
You give us pumpkin pie and family time,
You allow us a time to give thanks to anything.
You’re a tradition as old as America itself almost,
Plus this year you’re twinning with Hanukkah.

I love you thanksgiving,
Always my favorite,
Just because you don’t seem bothered with the fact
That a lot of people skip over you.
Just know that you will have me,
Always eating turkey and the pie so you can feel better,
Even if you don’t care.

So, all in all, thanksgiving is something that everyone should love,
Not just me.

You’re follower,


Photo Credit: Nemo’s great uncle via Compfight cc

I want, I wish, I need

I want to ride red dragons in the air,
To look out my window and see the stars,
To be magical and powerful,
To dream…

I wish to ride the crisp blue waves,
To fly with birds in a “V” and be the leader,
To run with the wolves and feel the rush of adrenaline,
To dream…

I need to have all of these,
To get through the day when I’m tired or bored,
To never let go of my childhood,
To dream…