Angry at the Grass

green-grass-1493898873qXe public domain photo

The grass waves at me
but I don’t feel like
greeting it back.
Must be so simple
to just sway in the wind,
no worries
no cares,
everything you have
the sun painted on your back.
It almost makes me glad
you’ll soon be mown down.

~ Maranda Russell

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Trolls

Art by Maranda Russell

I simply don’t care
when trolls wander by.
Let them take their
pointed pick axes
and character hatchets
and keep on walking.
If I wait long enough,
ignoring their grump,
sooner or later
they’ll go back
to their dank underground.

~Maranda Russell

Tumbleweed

tumble-weed public domain photo

Like a tumbleweed rolls,
I careen
end over end
through life.
Never stopping,
never knowing
what I’ll collide with next.

~Maranda Russell

The Problem is Me

Art by Maranda Russell

The following is a poem about depression, anxiety, and bipolar disorder:

The Problem is Me
Written By: Maranda Russell

The problem is me.
The problem has always been me.
It wouldn’t matter
where I go,
where I live,
what house I call home,
who is at my side,
who is under my feet,
who is in power,
or what is going on –
the problem remains
as long
as the problem is me.

My Story in 59 Words

Art By Maranda Russell

My Story in 59 Words
Written By: Maranda Russell

I am a product of the heartland,
and many years of dedication.

I am a survivor of abuse,
and the proud parent of creation.

I am separate from my family,
but still trust their education.

I hear earth’s voices unite in song,
and join their recitation.

No doubt my life will face its trials,
yet I strive for graduation.

The Idea of People

"Lust and Envy" by Maranda Russell

The Idea of People
Written By: Maranda Russell

I love the idea of people,
but I must admit
the reality
often fails to meet
my high expectations.

Can You Keep a Secret?

DSC07974

Can You Keep a Secret?
Written by: Maranda Russell

Can you keep a secret?
Will you hold it close,
so close that it vibrates
against your own heartbeat?

Will you bite your tongue,
your teeth slicing through
your taste buds,
leaving rows of bloody beads?

Will you lock pinkies
like we are kids once again,
with the monstrous shadows
chasing us back to adulthood?

Can you keep a secret?
I know you can, and I know you will
because the secrets you keep
loom even larger than mine.