On some days, her vessel feels akin to A tub of ice cream that’s been hollowed Out of cheeriness, a void borne of acerbic Text exchanges, unyielding lovers, Debilitating familial obligations, Signed legal dramas and Cremated dreams. On others, it’s scraped clean by Favourite t-shirts unravelling, Overshot highway exits, spilled coffee, Returned packages, and wilted … Continue reading White Jasmines
Author: misstinypurple
I graduated in 2016 from the University of Michigan, with an M.E in Energy Systems. Microprose is my forte: a form of writing that restricts word counts to as little as 13 words. I currently live in California, pursuing a career in clean energy, whiling away my time before I can become a full-time storyteller. Some of my favourite things are walking on crunchy leaves, the Marvel Cinematic Universe, fluffy puppies, boba tea, murder mysteries and conversing with captivating humans.
A wise woman once taught me: to laugh often and much, to win the affection of intelligent people, to appreciate beauty, to find the best in others, to leave the world a bit better-- that is to have succeeded in life.
Waterfall
It’s in the way your finger traces the contours behind my knee In your whispered observations amidst a crowd In the purposeful squeeze of my feet at the climax of a long day In the gentle brush of my back as you pass me by In the crook of your arm around the nape of … Continue reading Waterfall
Imprint
They crossed paths over a weekend Up in the hills — he was tracking the stars, While she planted seedlings in a clearing. Two parts home, one part mystery, and Half a worldview distant, he intrigued her. The higher they climbed, the brighter The stars, the taller her saplings. The faster They ran, the horizons … Continue reading Imprint
The Fork in the Road
Frost clings to the redwoods, Crunch lies bare on the winter floor The winding paths all look alike despite The compass you inherited from an elder. Up ahead is the fabled fork in the road, Seek this way and you’ll find The vista point atop the steepest climb, Back the other is the lakeshore Along … Continue reading The Fork in the Road
Sage
Emerging the dirt an evergreen shrub Surrounded by a sea of crimson roses, Yearning for sunshine and arid wastelands As the other receives tenderness and irrigation Every graft produces another bud while A rebuke withers a petal off the sage, Until a basketful of potpourri lay in its stead Servicing a coffee table in its … Continue reading Sage
Broken Bells
It’s a rare and sunny December Saturday; The fog has thawed off the hills, The birds trill to my rhythmic acts of labour. You stroll past, to-go cup in hand, Slowing to a halt as I shovel. I shovel, I shovel, I shovel: dismantling my compulsion to keep peace with white lies. I shovel: abandoning … Continue reading Broken Bells
The Countdown
A clean slate, a fresh start, a do-over. The ends to some beginnings and beginnings to some ends. You hope the elephant forgets, You wish for the owl’s wisdom. Is it fair to ask for forgiveness instead of permission, Or is it akin to turning on your hazard lights at a busy intersection, Hoping to … Continue reading The Countdown
Assimilation
When the hazy, shimmering desert can’t quite compare To the peninsula and its misting petrichor, When you begin to measure the passage of time With how it flattens another roll in your r’s, When the lyrics to your favourite song have since Colonised phrases in your native tongue, When even football crowds resonate differently than … Continue reading Assimilation
Maya
June 22nd, 2165 A lone sparrow chirped away at the waking sky as she perched on a scant tree, a gentle breeze plucking away more leaves. Below, a man in tweed strolled past, newspaper under one arm and a girl of about six in tow, taking three steps for every one of his. As they … Continue reading Maya
Candle Re-Making
Strike a match, light a flame, It burns a while, yet not enough To avoid the concave. You strike again, set it ablaze Although it dies before gathering pace. You repeat the process a dozen times With different candles of myriad styles, Each time leaving behind A pool of unspoken lines, Awkward pauses, one-sided conversations, … Continue reading Candle Re-Making
ThePurpleFenix 