ideas for short stories

1) Forbidden love due to different cultural and religion backgrounds
2) A day trip to a park, describing all the scenes and activity going on and incorporate an exciting self discovery
3) Overcoming an obstacle such as depression, including the reasons for the depression and the steps and process of overcoming it
4) A lost, very important item and the search and back track trying to find the item. During the process meeting interesting people and figuring out things about yourself

valentines day poem

To my dearest love of my life

If only you knew how I felt

When I see you everything swirls

I am at a loss of words and begin

Acting coy. I cannot be normal

Around you because I am too focused

On what flaws you may see

I cannot give you full eye contact

For you may not like what you uncover

You are not even my type, or even attractive

What is it about you that makes me go flat?

I want you to see the real me, I am a lot better

Than what you know. I wish I were not scared

But it is part of life. I hope one day you will see

What it is I see in you, but for me love

Gardens

The solidity of your absence
devours zinnias, punk records,
your green hat on the garden step.

I have learned to avoid certain words
that taste like smoke.
The wind gobbles them up.
He shows me the colors of their undersides,
your skin the interior chambers of clouds.

We are racing each other through
dawn’s streets. Our feet dodge
bougainvillea and memory.

Walk to me backwards,
your arms outstretched.
Tell me a million names for honeysuckle.

nurturing nature

It was in the first separation that I knew
this body was not mine alone. I came from
the wet and damp. The dark moisture below firs
splintered by a doomed, irregular sunlight.

My legs were cedars, limp and unrooted,
against the gray line of smoke and timber.
I lay still as a downed wolf, stretching
myself in surrender to sky and estuary.

In this valley, I gave you two pine cones,
my naval, and other lesser things.
I learned nothing of my body except in
the giving of it; arms splintered like the
death knell of ancient conifers.

The sensual buds of weary deadnettle;

my spine grows with the forest floor,
offering a rebuke to the small girl
calmly watching the logging trucks trample
moss and spruce.

flying

sweet revelry, short lived
nothing too much, nothing too less
leaning towards one another until empty
pulses in unison, the ill synchronization
flutters in a instant, riveting away from normal
the melting of colors intensifying, swirling out of control
the most alive I have ever felt, yet hating each minute
all stops-- the senseless life yet lived
fear