Bird Leaves

it’s not very wonderful when the leaves escape,

skittering over the muck hand in hand with the wind.

we need to pin their fragile bodies down

and shove them into stiff brown paper leaf bags.

is it odd that we entomb these tree-children in

the pulverized entrails of their cousins?

would it be better if we left them, soggy and dissolving in the mud,

interlaced with grass, to liquefy and pass away from us?

to nourish the sprightly greenness of a spring lawn

to weave into the food chain rightful place, to feed the worms!

better? that is questionable. but every time the wind comes calling,

I do what I have always done, and see the brave few leaves that leave,

away across the pastel evening, singing through the chill blue rush of air

escaped from the rake like birds set free


Writing a Modern Thanatopsis

Thanatopsis is a poem, written to explain death. However, since the poem was written, time has passed, and our way of speaking has changed with it. And so, I created a modern thanatopsis written in first person. Hope you enjoy!

He descended down from a dark and gloomy shroud of mist,

Dressed in a wide cloak, overflowing with darkness,

I had prepared for this moment, for all of my time,

He took a hard-long look into my soul,

With a cold-stoned face and jet black eyes, leading to a world of misery,

At that moment, all the years I had worked for had deteriorated, my life was parted,

And so were the memories held within it,

The seconds, to minutes, to hours, then it turned to dust,

As I left the mortal world,

I became one with the grandeur skies and lush jungles, 

I ran out into the open, grassy valley,

In which emanated serenity and tranquility,

I listened to nature’s teachings, bringing me closer to happiness,

But as time went on, everything began to crumble,

Finally, the volt white ball giving off light sunk into the horizon,

And a cratered one took its place,

Like yin and yang,

Each there to balance each other out,

Pain and pleasure, old and new, life and death,

None without the other,

And so I came to the realization that I should let go of my past, 

For the new to start their very own,

And so, I gave one finally everlasting goodbye,

And sunk with the sun,

I had found many humans weeping over my physical counterpart,

That I went down gladly,

In hopes of a new light,

I was once again reunited,

For one last lullaby,

And went down into my soft and earthy bed,

Where I would rest for eternity,

Not regretting a single moment,

I began my slumber,

With a heaping of happiness 

One Last Time

Two people walking in the distance down a snowy road through the woods

This is it. The end is near

No laughs. No cries

Nor any happily ever after


My story will be buried in the forest of Neverland

So no living soul will know

So here I am almost at the end

Asking you to look into my eyes

For one last time


To find the answer before I leave

For one last time I want to hear that imperfect voice

For one last time I want to see that imperfect face

Because that imperfect self, is perfect to me


We drift apart farther everyday

Though we still end up crossing

No matter the distance between heaven and hell

We always pass by


You pretend not to see it, so do I

Yet, we can’t deny in our hearts

The cold truth of life


One last time,

I want to remember you

One last time ,

I want to see my self with you, just talking

All I ask is for one last time


Because, I have created a spell, strongest of all

That’ll take my memory of you,

Through wicked lightning and thunderstorms,

and no longer will I know you

As the storms wash you away from me


Everything will go the same…

Except, I won’t remember you, even in haze

Yet, there is a way to stop it…

Every spell can be stopped….

Sounds of a Breeze

dandelion seeds in the breeze

The breeze is all around me

enveloping me with a soft whisper


The branches of the sugar maple

sway back and forth

Leaves upturned

revealing their fuzzy green undersides

feathery and delicate

like the flower buds of early spring

and petals floating through the air

It isn’t warm yet isn’t cold


to sit

and be silent



Grasses wave gently

in the cool breeze

rocking back and forth,

back and forth

a sweet lullaby



The air is mingled with mockingbird calls

crying out

their melodious voices in rhythm

with the breeze


It comes in gusts

although not forceful



Do not disturb the calm

of the breeze.


-Marie Walters (June 2018)

The Dream

large forest at night with a full moon in the sky


I dreamt I was in a forest

Surrounded by shadows of clinking tree branches

In the pitch-black night

The cool white moonlight

Around my pale reflection

In a dried-up stream bank


I dreamt I heard noises


I whip around


And yet when there was really something there

I failed to notice.


I dreamt and feared the endless emptiness

In the misty woods

And my surrounded isolation

But I settled into the warm ground

Dead leaves, moss, and brush

And I fell asleep, shivering, in the freezing air


I dreamt I then woke

To a coyote curled next to me in the leaves

And above me a mouse that barked


I dreamt this was not a dream

I dreamt that this dream I dreamt was real

I dreamt I dozed off again to dream on the forest floor


And when I woke up

I was alone.


-Marie Walters (May 2018)

night swimming

bright full moon in a dark, slightly cloudy sky

wet tinted goggles give the moon a fractured halo

of faint chaotic cobwebs spinning white and gold

the water is full of dancing flashing shadows

faint songs drift over from the carnival next door

the soft smooth darkness blurs the leaves

that whisper through the windlessness

you drip on the deck in the empty air

in a clammy towel, water slips down your spine

around the porch light doomed moths spiral

their quiet wings flash across your eyes

and fireflies surprise you in the night.



1… 2… 3… they all left me, alone, isolated I am now

I now desperately latch on to a thread of friendship that is barely there

So, now I look back on the broken ropes of connection while I hang on my last thread

1… over there, never really there at first this one

All it really was, was a show to make us both feel proud

But together we eventually met realization, the devil that pounded truth in our heads enough to let the string fray quickly enough

2… a good friend, a best friend; at least to me we were

A thick, sturdy cable emanating strength it was, that could hold me

But instead I hung loose

All words tentative and risky I had to speak

In fear of the wrong one and fear of it all, pools of apprehension ruining my shoes

I let go of this one

3… all the new and fresh ones I seem to meet

Now sometimes I ask myself

With a trade of two hardy ropes, do I truly get even hardier ones in return for gods of torture?

No, the answer seemed

Now I seemed to be cursed with too many of the most fragile threads

Constantly breaking and constantly forming

Why did I choose to lay here with everlasting anxiety

Where every string seems to leave just as soon as I could relax

These pieces of thread being beacons of hope for me

I want an escape from it all but I know I will feel too exposed

All I ask for now is sanctuary

So, my last post (Summer Light Becomes) claims to be a Nove Otto poem, but it wasn’t exactly completed when it got published so the syllable count at the end wasn’t correct and I didn’t even have nine lines. I think I accidentally submitted it a while back since I haven’t been on this blog for a hot minute and then it got published without me checking it. Also I don’t really know how to delete posts or edit them, if either of those are even possible so I’m just going to post this paragraph along with this sappy poem.