VeStranded Productions

independent production,writing,art,and so much more...

Poems

What Makes Me an Artist?

By Heather Rogers

IS IT BECAUSE:

 I am a writer?

I use my words to produce images in your head!

My fingers make music with every hit of the keys.

The letters dance across my screen to create the perfect word.

I am a dancer?

I use my body to paint a vision across the floor!

With every step and wave of my limbs I create the perfect lines.

I draw a picture with my movements. 

I am a musician?

I use music to move your spirit!

The melody floats from my instrument to fill the air with magical sounds.

I share my emotions with every note I play.

 I am a painter?

I can create my masterpiece anywhere!

The paints stream on to a surface telling a story.

There is a relationship between color and texture.

 I am an actor?

I use my skills to impersonate life!

I become whatever I need to be, to share my version of a story.

I can use words or silence to bring a writer’s work to life.

 I am a photographer?

I imprison an image from life’s tapestry!

I can tell a story with every click of the camera.

With my two dimensional image I can hold a memory in my hands.

 I am a sculptor?

I use my hands to craft a three-dimensional delight!

I manipulate, I mold, with every movement a new form comes to life.

My vision becomes reality.

 OR IS IT BECAUSE:

 I have a degree in art from one of the finest schools in the world?

OR IS IT BECAUSE: 

I have never taken an art class because I do not feel someone

has the right to tell me what art is?

 I AM AN ARTIST BECAUSE:

 My work stimulates your senses.

I have no fear of expression.

My passion is my best tool to create and inspire!

I am an artist because I see life as a muse.

The Jersey Shore, I am home

By Heather Rogers

It’s been so long, I forgot how much I loved it!

As soon as I crossed the bridge into LBI the smell hits me.

Salt with a hint of fish fills the ocean air.

Humidity makes pools of water on the black top in the distance.

I drive for blocks to find a parking space; walls of cars cover the streets.

There it is, small but just enough space.

I parallel park, nowhere near the beach, but I don't care!

I load my arms up with all I can carry.

Blanket, umbrella, sun screen, and towel I struggle.

I walk blocks before I get there.

My flip flops click against the bottom of my feet with every step.

My toes meet the sand and I can’t see the ocean over the hill.

I hear the ocean crashing on the beach, laughter and joyful screams follow.

I close my eyes for a second and remember.

Remember being a child on the beach digging for hours

Body surfing, the waves pushing me on to the beach.

Playing tag with the ocean as the waves broke on the sand.

The excitement overpowers me, I step on to the sand covered path.

The hot white sand rushes over my feet and burns my skin.

I dashed to a clear spot on the beach and drop my stuff.

Quickly lay my blanket out and put up the umbrella.

Now shaded from the sun, I kick off my flip flops and sit on the blanket.

I forgot how nice the sand felt between my toes.

I bury my feet with the warmth.

I close my eyes and lay back on the blanket.

Even though I am shaded the heat consumes me.

With every wave the ocean calls to me and I answer.

Popping up from the blanket, I stare out into the water.

On the hot sand the walk will feel endless, so I run.

As soon as my feet hit the wet sand I know, I am there.

A wave breaks at my legs but I keep running.

Deeper I go, then dive under the next breaking wave.

My body weightless and cuts through the water.

I am home.

Dumb in Public

 By Heather Rogers

A tongue like a razor cut so deep.

Do you know who you hurt with the words that you speak?

Dumb in public with not a care.

How many people suffer from the words that you share?

I know you are passionate about your point, believe me it shows.

But do you hear your hatful words of choice?

In this day and age can’t we choose a better voice?

There is more behind this verbal vile you spew.

Grouping people together like we are all bad when it is so few.

How many bank and car companies have we lent a hand?

But you get all twisted about helping the fellow man?

If you ask me it doesn’t make sense for you to get crazy over this.

But I guess using your words are better than using your fist.

Now let’s stop and take a breath.

Helping people out is not like death.

Someday you never know you may be in need.

And how will you feel when the world is just filled with greed.

Before we pass judgment and preach.

Know your facts before your next speech.

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