Rain falls hard from the night sky,

Saturating the ground

Mixing with tears as

The salt drips on her lips

Her heart drowns as

She watches him leave

Shivering in the bitter cold night

Will this pain end or

Just numb as time passes

Questions left unanswered

Words left unspoken

Her tears not dried

Crying out,

"Why?"

-Jodi F. © 2008

**Inspired by the rain & hearing a woman's story from "Secret Millionaire"

Autumn

Autumn

By Jodi F. © 1994

Autumn leaves fall in succession

One by one, the rainbow evaporates.

Once so vibrant and illuminating

Now lie dead

The toll it takes.

I just recently found some of my older poems from back when I was in my early 20s. This one and two others were copyrighted & published in an amateur poetry book back in 1994. It was one of the happiest moments of my life.

You can definitely tell that fall is upon us. There is a chill in the air today here in NJ. The weather is in the early 60s. We are without a sun to warm us & a heavy breeze fills the air. To me, it felt like there wasn't any easy "transition" from summer to fall. One day I was sweltering, then next day I am freezing.

It has only just begun.

My Writing Assignment

Happy Wednesday everyone! Several people thought I should post some of my assignments from the class I am taking. If any of you are interested, please let me know what you think. Be honest, I can take it! I need objective opinions. LOL! Also, if you can let me know if you think I should continue to post them.

This is an assignment that required me to write 2 paragraphs of the room I write in. Here it is:

"The Room Where I Write"

The only noises I hear are my fingers swiftly hitting the keys, an Elvis Presley wall clock's second hand clicking for each second and a fish tank humming behind me. I can hear the koi picking up the small pebbles at the bottom of the tank searching for left over fragments of food. Yet with all the background noise, it is just so still. I'm at peace sitting in this noisy yet silent room. Alone I sit and look at the walls that surround me filled with media, memories, and promises. My eyes become fixated towards a beautiful black, metal, matted frame holding a picture of Marilyn Monroe. How alone she looks as she leans on the edge of a balcony staring down at a crowded, taxi-lined street in New York City. She has a lit cigarette in her hand and her eyes are empty. What was she thinking at the moment that photo was taken? What was she feeling inside her soul as her cigarette turned to ash?

Next, I turn and see my long haired, black and white cat lie sleeping on our oak coffee table. How soundly he sleeps. I can see him breathing. His body moves with each breath synchronized with each click of the second hand on the wall clock. What is he dreaming about at this moment? I begin to be thankful for this noisy yet still room, where all my thoughts can come out onto these keys and be released from my mind. The stillness sustains me but the words never seem to cease.