Savannah College Of Art And Design Hello dear readers! So I need a favour. Would all of you kindly let me know which #poems I should put into a portfolio? And it only needs to be my best. Like THE BEST. This is for a scholarship to a realllyyyyy nice art school. I appreciate it! ❤

Shades Of Blue My mothers soul is blue The profound azure of lapis lazuli Deep veins of crystalline sapphire Thrumming in the darkest caves My mothers soul is blue The dark stain of indigo That blooms on native fingers As they pluck it from the soil My mothers soul is blue The unfathomable beryl of the sea Caught in a summer storm Frothing against the cliffs My mothers soul is blue The gentle lull of turquoise Singing on Indian throats As they make their way west My mothers soul is blue And it is beautiful But it is also sad Much like my mother

Worth I don't even know if I should be posting this. But it's been weighing on my chest for a couple of years. And I'm a writer, if nothing else I will expel my sorrows through words. Once upon a time: there was a boy who thought he was in love. It was only the second time he had been in love so he thought he understood what it felt like. But this was the wrong kind of love. It was dark, and cloying, and greedy. The boys beloved fancied himself very attractive. Gods gift to men and women. And the boy was overjoyed that the gift had chosen him. Someone he thought ugly. A plain boy with brown eyes and a broken heart. Well, as the story goes, the boys beloved asked him "do you love me?" "If course!" Was his answer. "Well if you love me," the beloved said, "you'll sleep with me." "O-okay." The boy said sheepishly. And so they did. The next time the beloved got needy, for that's what he was: needy, he said "if you love me, you'll sleep with me and my friend." And again the boy succumbed to his beloved. And then so on and so forth the story goes. The boy continued to give himself over to his love, and then the friends of his beloved, and then to the friends without his love with them. Until it got to the point the boy felt used, and quite empty. He rarely saw his beloved except when he was asked "how much do you love me?" And then one day the boy saw his once beloved counting money, licking his finger to split the sticky paper. He asked what it was for. And the once beloved replied "it's how much your love is worth." The end.

Curiosity She waits at the edge Crouching behind the myrtle Dark eyes peering between The tiny pink flowers Pale fingers grasping At an intangible reality She looks at the road A sea of black granite And her eyes grow wide She reaches out a bare foot And tests it's dark waters Jumping in surprise At its solidity A smile spreads across her face And then she darts back Into the familiarity Of her forest

Growing Soul She has a love For anything that grows A tender maternal instinct For #life that thrums Beneath her fingers When she strokes their petals A smile appears When the wind Makes the flowers spin She twirls with them Dancing to music Only they can hear And when the sun Sheds dappled light On her bare skin She catches the light And lets it trickle From her open palms Into their waiting arms