Under Lavender Skies

  You know, I don't think I'm a bad writer but I've never thought of myself as amazing, I think I'm just alright.  And I think that's ok, I have so much to learn that's for sure.  Art of any type (I think writing is a form of art), is so subjective and I try to keep in mind that even if I'm able to get published and known through my writing I'll never be good, at least not to everyone.  Of course that means I will be good or even great to others.  But also, please don't tell me if you hate something I make.  Right now in my life I am writing and making things that I like and enjoy making and it's what's keeping me going.  I mean if I like it there's a chance someone else will too.   Still, it's nice to hear it, that my writing is good every once in a while, from someone other than my mom (love you so much mom). I'm currently almost finished with a 4 week writing class, which I've really enjoyed and wish was longer.  The first ...

 A Poem About Clouds  Today, I point out, the clouds Are wispy and quick across the sky. I know it's been said before, And that many think the same, But I adore clouds. The way they are never the same At times, Hardly touching the corners of the sky At others, Taking it over completely. This is a mostly pointless poem about The sky — but also I often wish I could pull myself up, On one of those days when the clouds cover the sky, And walk around up there for a little bit, In a completely new world Just for a little bit. My life seems to be changing fast, And flitting across the sky like the Clouds today. I have decisions to make and things to do And I'm not sure why it's so difficult to get myself to do them, but it is, And instead I write this poem. I want the clouds to be still And slow. Maybe tomorrow, Maybe then it'll be easier to handle. Or a tomorrow soon after that. It has to be. abby m.

Hey everyone!  I painted this a while ago for my mom for mother's day and never shared it here. Through this painting I discovered white flowers are very difficult to paint... Still I had a fun time figuring it out and adding more color and texture to the flowers!   Pictures and close ups below, I hope ya like it!  ☆☆☆

Grapes for Breakfast Yesterday I ate grapes for breakfast, half of them squishy  And brown, And gross,  And I told you my life story, Tears dried on the frames of my glasses from me crying with my head In my lap.  I ran into the kitchen before the silence grew too loud Too overbearingly loud  For those few moments, the world shut off Even the birds stopped singing and the wind ceased blowing  It was all so loud, louder than I could have imagined,  Like a raging, Relentless, Waterfall. It was just about to suffocate me  When I fled to get more grapes. The only way to describe a  A silence like that one, one that smothers everything around it,  Is with a sound. I also wanted to clean my glasses So I could at least see while we talked about how I could feel like  Less of a rotten grape, shall we say, and more of a person.  In the end, you said you understood but There was plenty of time, from me carefully picking out each rotten grape ...