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About Emily,
About Emily,
Emily is a 21 year old exchange student from Virginia in The United States, here at AIU only for the fall semester of 2022.
She finds herself inspired by art and other people. "Art imitates life imitates art" has always been her perspective of the world. She is constantly looking for the beauty and magic in the small things.
Those Who Shine Like Gold
Those Who Shine Like Gold
In the back of the souvenir shop
shadowed away, yet seeking the sight
of someone passing by.
Buried in a hidden corner
bright oranges, and shining golds peek
just around the bend.
Flashy fins flit back and forth
a faint flicker of who is hiding
behind their glass bindings.
Haphazardly they bump and push
tails fluttering in the frenzy
of glancing outside.
Accented in reds and yellows
a family of goldfish swarm and swim
along the small aquarium’s rim.
Hidden In The Human Condition
Hidden In The Human Condition
Encased in stale acrylic walls, oily red splotches drip and dry;
A lingering pool of viscous maroon escapes
Slowly in a growing circle.
A long arm reaches out, metal stained with the past;
Where remnants of thousands of eyes
Watch on from a distance.
The whir of the machine, “dancing”, “spinning”, “bowing”;
Where its performance had been frantic then
Appears slow and sluggish now.
A metal fan brushes the liquid scarlet under the heavy base;
Its decaying face dragging along the floor
Leaving losing streaks in its wake.
Sisyphus’ dilemma, a means to an infinitesimal end;
A creation built to withstand its own collapse
The cruel creator’s novelty.
This struggle is life in the same vein that it is death;
Imprisoned in this exhausting performance,
But I Can’t Help Myself.
For Moe,
For Moe,
As gentle fingers play over the monochrome piano keys,
Your soft melodies swirl through the air in quiet wisps.
It’s only then that what had just been a slight smile,
Is slowly pushing your cheeks
into your eyes.
Like the warmth of that cafe, hidden out in plain sight,
A presence that’s calming like the first sip of hot chocolate.
You’re someone completely new,
a chance meeting,
But it somehow feels as if
I’ve known you forever.
To Runa,
To Runa,
You speak with your heart in your teeth,
Biting canines spilling a liquid rainbow into your words.
You are so true to your being,
Without consequence but not without question.
Cautious for the sake of others,
Seeking justice in the confines of those who will listen.
The scales are held outside of your hands,
Yet you persevere all the same.
About Reika,
About Reika,
Night drives back in your little blue car, “it’s my mother’s” you say;
Driving down that highway, it’ll always serve as a signpost in my memory.
Somehow you’re kind even when you’re breaking the law,
Fitting 6 where there should only maybe be 5.
With that mic in your hand, your heart shining through your voice,
An embarrassed smile to match.
Blue sneakers, a little red laptop, a tambourine,
A collection of things that I always see in you.
A Meeting in Springtime
A Meeting in Springtime
As they say, a strict home makes a sneaky child.
She spends her evenings spying into the woods behind the cottage, the smell of the trees and the flowers fill her head and home. The music of the birds chirping and singing match perfectly with the gentle breeze blowing through the branches. Suddenly a dart of a deep red tunic flashes across her eyes, with bouncing brown curls to match the boyish smile adorning his face. He may not look like much from such a glance, but she’s been watching him from the windowsill for quite some time now. He always takes the same way down into the woods, the trodden path stark against the fluffy undergrowth. She watches him every time, but their eyes meet for not even a moment.
Yet, he’s always been just out of reach for her.
That is until her parents are away into town.
She finally takes the leap.
She sneaks out the creaky back door, wooden panels and rusted hinges both weathered from sitting dormant for far too long. Checking over her shoulder once more, and after finding no other eyes on her, she takes a step out into the soft green grass. Following him down into the woods, daintily stepping on fallen leaves and soft grass, she’s taking every caution for him not to hear her coming from behind the bend. Walking softly on her tiptoes and peeking through the branches of the trees has her soft hair bouncing and tumbling into the air with her every step.
“How curious?” She thought to herself, tracing the petals of the budding flowers that lined the twisted pathway. “What could be so interesting as to bring him down here every day? Father would be furious if he could see..” Even so, she continues on; her dress dragging on just behind her, flowing over the pebbles and stones like water in a stream.
She winds her way down to the edge of the path, stopping just short of the shallow stream that rambles along in front of her.
With eyes widening and her heartbeat playing in her throat, she could feel her legs winding up with excited energy. She sees him at the same time that she finds the subject of his interest.
There it is.
She jumps down into the stream, no care for the dripping white fabric that damply clings to her body. A wide smile pushing her cheeks into her eyes, squeezing every ounce of freedom out into her face.
He turns, and they finally meet.
Oh.
She rushes up to him, her reddened cheeks mismatching the soft gaze she gives him. He smiles back no less fondly.
“Might you like to swing with me a while?” His words hang in her head like drops of honey, smooth and sweet.
“That sounds lovely to me.” She replies softly.
It’s there that they swing together; in the glow of the mid-evening leaves that gently rustle from the soft breeze passing through, accented by the sweet songs of the birds chirping all around them. Time is kind to them for the moment, passing invisibly as they finally officially get to meet one another.
She, who strict parents may consider to be a sneaky child, is just a child who longs to fly free from her perch of the windowsill. Taking to the sky and into the clouds of the rope swing, she’s found her bound wings spreading free.
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