SparksofWonder
@sparksofwonder.bsky.social
Poetry is a campfire. Come sit with me. For dreamers, seekers, and big-hearted explorers, come get lost in the glow of questions, the flicker of wonder, and the warmth of words that linger long after the fire fades.
I do not hold back.
I do not harden.
I flow. I make. I feel.
And that is more than enough.
I do not harden.
I flow. I make. I feel.
And that is more than enough.
April 2, 2025 at 2:16 PM
I do not hold back.
I do not harden.
I flow. I make. I feel.
And that is more than enough.
I do not harden.
I flow. I make. I feel.
And that is more than enough.
My power is not sharp.
It is velvet. It is voice.
It is marigold as a second sun
and shaped like a wiser yes—one I no longer waste.
It is velvet. It is voice.
It is marigold as a second sun
and shaped like a wiser yes—one I no longer waste.
April 2, 2025 at 2:16 PM
My power is not sharp.
It is velvet. It is voice.
It is marigold as a second sun
and shaped like a wiser yes—one I no longer waste.
It is velvet. It is voice.
It is marigold as a second sun
and shaped like a wiser yes—one I no longer waste.
I carry oceans in my hips.
Ideas bloom in me
without blueprints or permission.
I create not to impress—
but because I was born with overflow.
Ideas bloom in me
without blueprints or permission.
I create not to impress—
but because I was born with overflow.
April 2, 2025 at 2:16 PM
I carry oceans in my hips.
Ideas bloom in me
without blueprints or permission.
I create not to impress—
but because I was born with overflow.
Ideas bloom in me
without blueprints or permission.
I create not to impress—
but because I was born with overflow.
I’ve said yes to too many things
that drained me dry.
But this—
this is the yes I keep for myself.
A yes to the fire in my belly.
A yes to wanting, to starfire.
A yes with thrum.
that drained me dry.
But this—
this is the yes I keep for myself.
A yes to the fire in my belly.
A yes to wanting, to starfire.
A yes with thrum.
April 2, 2025 at 2:15 PM
I’ve said yes to too many things
that drained me dry.
But this—
this is the yes I keep for myself.
A yes to the fire in my belly.
A yes to wanting, to starfire.
A yes with thrum.
that drained me dry.
But this—
this is the yes I keep for myself.
A yes to the fire in my belly.
A yes to wanting, to starfire.
A yes with thrum.
Let me feel it all.
The rise, the ruin,
the way joy breaks open
like a match catching on the first strike.
Let me want what I want—
not trimmed to fit someone else’s frame,
not dimmed with the wound of apology.
The rise, the ruin,
the way joy breaks open
like a match catching on the first strike.
Let me want what I want—
not trimmed to fit someone else’s frame,
not dimmed with the wound of apology.
April 2, 2025 at 2:15 PM
Let me feel it all.
The rise, the ruin,
the way joy breaks open
like a match catching on the first strike.
Let me want what I want—
not trimmed to fit someone else’s frame,
not dimmed with the wound of apology.
The rise, the ruin,
the way joy breaks open
like a match catching on the first strike.
Let me want what I want—
not trimmed to fit someone else’s frame,
not dimmed with the wound of apology.
I didn’t pick a single flower.
I didn’t need to.
They had already bloomed.
For me.
I didn’t need to.
They had already bloomed.
For me.
April 1, 2025 at 1:53 PM
I didn’t pick a single flower.
I didn’t need to.
They had already bloomed.
For me.
I didn’t need to.
They had already bloomed.
For me.
The red ran deep,
Like warmth in my bones,
Like the root of a word
You finally remember.
It held me,
Steady as soil—
Reminding me
I belong here.
No map.
No timeline.
Just this wide-open field
Where I remembered
How to want something
Without asking permission.
Like warmth in my bones,
Like the root of a word
You finally remember.
It held me,
Steady as soil—
Reminding me
I belong here.
No map.
No timeline.
Just this wide-open field
Where I remembered
How to want something
Without asking permission.
April 1, 2025 at 1:53 PM
The red ran deep,
Like warmth in my bones,
Like the root of a word
You finally remember.
It held me,
Steady as soil—
Reminding me
I belong here.
No map.
No timeline.
Just this wide-open field
Where I remembered
How to want something
Without asking permission.
Like warmth in my bones,
Like the root of a word
You finally remember.
It held me,
Steady as soil—
Reminding me
I belong here.
No map.
No timeline.
Just this wide-open field
Where I remembered
How to want something
Without asking permission.
And though I still miss her, it’s clearer each day—
She’s never too far, she’s not gone away.
For wherever I go, in a smile or song,
It’s like she’s right here—just tagging along.
She’s never too far, she’s not gone away.
For wherever I go, in a smile or song,
It’s like she’s right here—just tagging along.
February 25, 2025 at 2:23 PM
And though I still miss her, it’s clearer each day—
She’s never too far, she’s not gone away.
For wherever I go, in a smile or song,
It’s like she’s right here—just tagging along.
She’s never too far, she’s not gone away.
For wherever I go, in a smile or song,
It’s like she’s right here—just tagging along.
I traced the stars in the velvety blue,
And I asked them softly, “Do you know her too?”
"Oh yes," they twinkled, "we see her shine,
In the flicker of the cosmos, she’s doing just fine."
And I asked them softly, “Do you know her too?”
"Oh yes," they twinkled, "we see her shine,
In the flicker of the cosmos, she’s doing just fine."
February 25, 2025 at 2:23 PM
I traced the stars in the velvety blue,
And I asked them softly, “Do you know her too?”
"Oh yes," they twinkled, "we see her shine,
In the flicker of the cosmos, she’s doing just fine."
And I asked them softly, “Do you know her too?”
"Oh yes," they twinkled, "we see her shine,
In the flicker of the cosmos, she’s doing just fine."
So I closed my eyes and breathed in deep,
Letting memories rise for my heart to keep.
The hum of her voice, a lullaby light,
Wrapping me warm like a hug in the night.
Letting memories rise for my heart to keep.
The hum of her voice, a lullaby light,
Wrapping me warm like a hug in the night.
February 25, 2025 at 2:23 PM
So I closed my eyes and breathed in deep,
Letting memories rise for my heart to keep.
The hum of her voice, a lullaby light,
Wrapping me warm like a hug in the night.
Letting memories rise for my heart to keep.
The hum of her voice, a lullaby light,
Wrapping me warm like a hug in the night.
"She’s here in the rustle, she’s here in the breeze,
She’s here in the hush of the swaying trees.
She’s here when you giggle, she’s here when you weep,
She’s here in the hush of the stars when you sleep."
She’s here in the hush of the swaying trees.
She’s here when you giggle, she’s here when you weep,
She’s here in the hush of the stars when you sleep."
February 25, 2025 at 2:22 PM
"She’s here in the rustle, she’s here in the breeze,
She’s here in the hush of the swaying trees.
She’s here when you giggle, she’s here when you weep,
She’s here in the hush of the stars when you sleep."
She’s here in the hush of the swaying trees.
She’s here when you giggle, she’s here when you weep,
She’s here in the hush of the stars when you sleep."
I tried to catch the scent of cinnamon spice,
The warmth of your apron, your laughter so nice.
I asked the trees, “Did you see her pass by?”
And the leaves all shivered with a wistful sigh,
The warmth of your apron, your laughter so nice.
I asked the trees, “Did you see her pass by?”
And the leaves all shivered with a wistful sigh,
February 25, 2025 at 2:22 PM
I tried to catch the scent of cinnamon spice,
The warmth of your apron, your laughter so nice.
I asked the trees, “Did you see her pass by?”
And the leaves all shivered with a wistful sigh,
The warmth of your apron, your laughter so nice.
I asked the trees, “Did you see her pass by?”
And the leaves all shivered with a wistful sigh,
The lights flicker softly as galaxies spin,
It's cozy and warm in the Milky Way Inn.
So, if you're out wandering the cosmos someday,
Stop by for a treat at the Milky Way Cafe!
It's cozy and warm in the Milky Way Inn.
So, if you're out wandering the cosmos someday,
Stop by for a treat at the Milky Way Cafe!
February 20, 2025 at 5:55 PM
The lights flicker softly as galaxies spin,
It's cozy and warm in the Milky Way Inn.
So, if you're out wandering the cosmos someday,
Stop by for a treat at the Milky Way Cafe!
It's cozy and warm in the Milky Way Inn.
So, if you're out wandering the cosmos someday,
Stop by for a treat at the Milky Way Cafe!
Black holes by the window sip coffee so strong,
They'll pull you right in if you linger too long!
While Earth has a milkshake with whipped cream galore,
And Neptune's blue smoothie is known as "The Shore."
They'll pull you right in if you linger too long!
While Earth has a milkshake with whipped cream galore,
And Neptune's blue smoothie is known as "The Shore."
February 20, 2025 at 5:55 PM
Black holes by the window sip coffee so strong,
They'll pull you right in if you linger too long!
While Earth has a milkshake with whipped cream galore,
And Neptune's blue smoothie is known as "The Shore."
They'll pull you right in if you linger too long!
While Earth has a milkshake with whipped cream galore,
And Neptune's blue smoothie is known as "The Shore."
There, Pluto waits by the door with a grin,
"Can I sit at the table? Can I please come in?"
With a frosty brew in a glass cold and blue,
He's part of the café, and he knows it too!
"Can I sit at the table? Can I please come in?"
With a frosty brew in a glass cold and blue,
He's part of the café, and he knows it too!
February 20, 2025 at 5:55 PM
There, Pluto waits by the door with a grin,
"Can I sit at the table? Can I please come in?"
With a frosty brew in a glass cold and blue,
He's part of the café, and he knows it too!
"Can I sit at the table? Can I please come in?"
With a frosty brew in a glass cold and blue,
He's part of the café, and he knows it too!
Old Jupiter sits with a mug in his hand,
He's telling tall tales 'bout faraway lands.
While Venus stirs tea with a big silver spoon,
And hums a soft tune to the stars and the moon.
He's telling tall tales 'bout faraway lands.
While Venus stirs tea with a big silver spoon,
And hums a soft tune to the stars and the moon.
February 20, 2025 at 5:54 PM
Old Jupiter sits with a mug in his hand,
He's telling tall tales 'bout faraway lands.
While Venus stirs tea with a big silver spoon,
And hums a soft tune to the stars and the moon.
He's telling tall tales 'bout faraway lands.
While Venus stirs tea with a big silver spoon,
And hums a soft tune to the stars and the moon.
The tables are planets that twinkle and glow,
And comets zoom past with a glittery show.
The waiters are asteroids, speedy and bright,
Serving hot cocoa with marshmallow light.
And comets zoom past with a glittery show.
The waiters are asteroids, speedy and bright,
Serving hot cocoa with marshmallow light.
February 20, 2025 at 5:54 PM
The tables are planets that twinkle and glow,
And comets zoom past with a glittery show.
The waiters are asteroids, speedy and bright,
Serving hot cocoa with marshmallow light.
And comets zoom past with a glittery show.
The waiters are asteroids, speedy and bright,
Serving hot cocoa with marshmallow light.
We sure could.
February 19, 2025 at 2:24 PM
We sure could.
So I screw on the lid and hold it tight,
And keep my jar safe every night,
For memories may come and memories may fade,
But in my jar, they’re softly replayed.
And keep my jar safe every night,
For memories may come and memories may fade,
But in my jar, they’re softly replayed.
February 19, 2025 at 2:21 PM
So I screw on the lid and hold it tight,
And keep my jar safe every night,
For memories may come and memories may fade,
But in my jar, they’re softly replayed.
And keep my jar safe every night,
For memories may come and memories may fade,
But in my jar, they’re softly replayed.
But some memories blur and slip away,
Like watercolors left out in the rain,
They float like feathers, light and free,
Lost in the wind of who I will be.
Like watercolors left out in the rain,
They float like feathers, light and free,
Lost in the wind of who I will be.
February 19, 2025 at 2:21 PM
But some memories blur and slip away,
Like watercolors left out in the rain,
They float like feathers, light and free,
Lost in the wind of who I will be.
Like watercolors left out in the rain,
They float like feathers, light and free,
Lost in the wind of who I will be.
There’s the creek where we skipped over smooth stones,
And the tree house we built, our own castle with throne.
The squeak of the porch swing late at night,
As fireflies danced in the soft moonlight.
And the tree house we built, our own castle with throne.
The squeak of the porch swing late at night,
As fireflies danced in the soft moonlight.
February 19, 2025 at 2:20 PM
There’s the creek where we skipped over smooth stones,
And the tree house we built, our own castle with throne.
The squeak of the porch swing late at night,
As fireflies danced in the soft moonlight.
And the tree house we built, our own castle with throne.
The squeak of the porch swing late at night,
As fireflies danced in the soft moonlight.