Micah Park Biffle

 Carry Barden's Tragedy   Everyday Carry Barden lays beneath an old oak with a book in hand. Here eyes are of golden brown and skin of galaxy cream. Her hair hangs like gentle threads of cotton. Everyday her eyes glow as she turns the pages of her book.   She savors every droplet of imagination presented before her. Her hands gentle, tickling the corner of the page just before turning it. Her face explores with vivid expression, no emotion is left without notice.   Tears, smiles, and joyful laughter spring from her. Tension of anticipation clasps to her chest leaving her of shallow breath. Her face with grins with anger as villains swarm many pages of her books. Their deceitful and vile ways plunge Carry into a imaginative rage.  Playing out thoughts as to what she would do. Pretending to conjoin her reality with the book. Stretching her imagination not only within the book but within her world. Creating side stories in her head. She even plays...

A Mountain Tragedy  It's an early morning, the sun has yet to crest over the mountain tops as we drive down from their man made veins. It has just rained, the water is settled upon the dark asphalt with gentle reflections. Ahead of our view is endless trees.  They hug the sides of the streets with great command. They stand silent, expressing a magnitude of brilliance, brilliance nature has built over millions of years. It has been three days since we were last home. The weekend spent in the flesh of the mountains has been amazing.  There is nothing quite like the views that the teeth of the world bare. You feel so small when you reach the top, overlooking the vast expanse of nature. Its bristled hair of green, its pools of tears and clouds of mist resonate deep in the soul.  You know you belong among it, yet there is an unfamiliarity of it. Like a distant cousin you have never met till today. You know your blood is of the same line, yet you know nothing o...

Whiskey on the Rocks    This whiskey, how graceful you fall, how gently you warm my heart. Delicate in aroma, stiff in taste. But how delightful. You coat my lingering pain so well, as if marriage be in order. Anguish and whiskey, till death do we part.   I embrace you with my drunken hand. Shaking, quivering to the somber melodies of my lonely soul. What beauty you bring from my aching heart. Bringing forth copious thoughts that pour from a broken spout.   I taste you in all things I relate to your amber color, your wooden flavors. The sunset, it brings me to want you, to taste you as if you are the melting vision before me. A genius you create as the snow falls softly upon the ground.   I freeze in my appearance as I look through my window. Admiring the scenery of the cold dreary winter. But I see myself, my dazed eyes, the dark circles that hug my drunken face. Looking, I can't help but weep, oh how I thought you numbed me. How I thought you snuff...