In flames: A poem about the unfair burning of ‘witches’…

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They push me into the square

and tied me down.

They lit the ground at my feet.

The flames started to lick my toes.

My mother always warned me

not to get close to fire.

But I am confined to this area

of flame and heat.

I close my eyes.

I open them.

My shoes are gone.

My dress has caught.

I am done for.

What have I done wrong?

Why do I deserve this

untimely and gruesome death?

The heat crawls up my legs.

Fire surrounds my waist.

I look down at the people

who were once my neighbors.

They have stopped cheering.

The children stare up at me.

They look at me as though I am a goddess.

I have swallowed my fear.

I live.

I have not done wrong,

yet they hold me in fire.

And I live.

Summer

I was digging through an old notebook today when I saw this. Gosh, I miss summer already.

Oh, such hot summer days,

for daydreaming and lemonade.

 

Turn up the A/C and radio,

oh, but where did my ice cream go?

 

Break out the beach balls and flip flops,

here we come, ready or not!

 

Don’t forget to dress real light,

and add sunscreen, ’cause the sun is bright!

 

Sandcastles, sun, and waves galore.

Oh, my, could we ask for more?

My wonderful father

Hi, there! Today I would like to tell you about my wonderful father. Yes, the one who taught me all I know about photography and most of what I know about the arts. My dad works for our local newspaper and is one of my biggest inspirations (and my mom is the other). This father of mine also has a website, which you can find at klotzbachphoto.com. Thank-you, daddy!