Micah Park Biffle

   The Wild West  My father sprung from the porch and swept me up in his arms. At first I was not alarmed, as a young girl I thought for a moment he was playing with me. But as he picked me up and I giggled he gave no equal response.   I looked up, his face was stern with worry. His eyes gazed into the horizon as the sun started to sink behind the short cascade of desert hills. I then looked over as well and there in the distance like walking shadows, were six men riding horses.   We often got visitors at our home. We were near a central road for travelers. Which we often gave them a place to rest as long as they respected our rules. But these visitors, if you could even call them that were not the usual kind.   My father rushed me into the house and told me to lock the door in stay inside. I was then overcome with fear. My father shut the door and I locked it. As he shut it I saw him reaching for his pistol that was slung over his chair on the ...

   Imagination to Change    High up we take to our imagination, for the world around us is poor. Broken, an apocalyptic spectacle that teeters on the unforgivable. Hundreds of abandoned buildings stand with dark and dreary faces. Broken windows form with jagged edges. Doors hang like  loose nails upon fingers and the walls slowly cave to the unwavering season of winter.   Empty lots of concrete split by the hand of nature. Weeds sprout like appendages reaching desperately for air. Once covered in the crust of  heavy darkness they now breach with a chance of breath.   But how foreign they appear to us, to me and my brother. We have been here our entire lives, in this, dark phantasmal place. This cryptic realm of what we are told is reality. But something we have always felt lingers in our heads, this thought of a better place.    A place where people smile as you pass by. A place where the efforts of man are not st...

 Sophia's Love    "Let your umbrella unfold, dance beneath the rain when others won't shelter you with the echoes of love my dear." Her mother said as she kissed her upon the forehead.   Sophia looking up at her mother smiles as she holds her pink umbrella above her head. Her mother, raising up from the kiss takes Sophia by the hand and they begin to walk. Sophia, only five and her father off on a business trip, her mother becomes lonely.   And so they walk, they walk through evenings, mornings, dusk's and dawns. Watching the graceful colors of sunsets and sunrises. Sophia's mother teach's her to admire the colors before them. Not just the wonderful vibrant colors, but also the dull. The gloomy streaks of darkness.   For everything has a purpose in this world. From the thunder storms to clear skies. Sophia, holding her mother's hands as they walk through the rain looks and up and asks, "Mother, why do you cry? Do the colors of this clo...

A Brothers Envy Her arms spread wide to the wind as it passes through her hair. Her locks flow with majestic breath of nature. Her eyes of emerald blue watch as the sun slowly falls. The clouds disperse as her dragons wings wave effortlessly through sky.  She feels no danger, no weight of life bearing down upon her. She is free, weightless as she sits atop her scaly friend. His skin, blazed in the colors flames. His eyes, as dark as the the unseen surface of the moon.  His wings span further than two homes side by side. He stands six stories high, he is the largest of his kind. But he is of no threat to the world, for his mother, Sasha, who sits atop him. Has bred him in peace, but he is no stranger to violence.  For once they ruled with respect, the greatest kingdom of all. The kingdom of Raulled, a place of great power, but of great love. It was a place where all could be as they wished and do as they pleased in the bounds the kingdoms law.  Sasha rul...

Sammy and the Tear   Have you heard the story of the girl who made her own world? If not, I suggest you lay back and let your heart and eyes take to the journey.   Sammy, only eight years old grew up in a home far from the rest of the world. A place pinched between two massive mountains. Mountains so high no one has ever seen the top of them. Even on clear days the highest points vanish to the sky.   Growing up, it was only her father and mother. Both whom loved her very very much. But as Sammy grew in age, she found herself to be lonely. She could not explain this concept nor understand the feeling that rested at the bottom of her heart.   But she knew something was amiss in her heart. Reaching age five she had amassed hundreds of imaginary friends. But as time progressed in the world changed in her mind, the imaginary did not suffice as well as it did a few years before.   Sammy had asked her parents numerous times if she could have a brother or...

A Risky Book "Open the book!" Misha says as Soush holds it in his hands. His light silver hair reflects the burning flame of the candle as Misha excitedly holds it over Soush's head. "Quickly, quickly, open it before mother gets home!" Misha wiggling her excited body as a drop of candle wax lands on the cover of the book. Soush pulls the book away as soon as the wax lands on it. "Look what you did...keep the candle away or you'll ruin the book." Misha pulls the candle away quickly as her face falls with unexpected disappointment in herself. But pulling it away quickly, more candle wax drops from the melting stick of wax. Some even splashes onto the ground and onto the surrounding books that are sprawled out on the floor. Soush, see's what Misha has done. He stands up in haste, drops the book on the ground. His eyes glare upon Misha as he attempts to grasp the candle. But Misha resists, she pulls the candle away from Soush as he fig...

A Cancer is No End  I'm cuffed, tied to reality. I am held to a strict limit of ability, today, that limit has been reached. Though I have no say in what happens next, I will not have idle hands nor an idle heart. I will be the stone from which you can stand on. Allowing a solid foundation, for I want you not to fall to the misery that has come forward. This tragedy is not the end, unless you wish it do be. Much more is to come, but only if you fight, if we fight. If we take in our breathes as if they are our last and charge. Taking aim at life and allowing the growing of flowers. Creating a theme of faith and turning it to reality. Bringing forth good fortune to the mind and casting our the filth that wishes to cloud you. I can only image the fear that is tempted your heart now. Crooked like branches from a wild tree. Springing from the belly of doubt as they rise from your soul. Slowly constricting your hope. But this will not be, for we will prune, cut, severe, era...

A Beggar and A Daughter  A queen she is, dawned in the cold embrace of winter. Her handmaidens as lovely as her. But her spirit glows much brighter. Her eyes are sentient, each showing the provoking emotion of her soul. They are gentle, yet powerful in presence. She walks with humble steps but prides her posture in confidence. Her wings touch the clouds, her heart the stars. She was once the empty heart of a beggar. Grown in the slums of Niddle Wick. A town of harsh souls and even worse weather.  But her ever persistent heart to be more, always presented her a smile. A reason to be swelled in hope though her father be a vagabond of the streets. She loved him though he was resistaned to hope. His heart weighed heavy from his past. He was clouded in the aftermaths of his hell. Allowing the roots of his regrets and fear to tangle his soul in the frozen hold of his thoughts. His eyes, weak, bitter, his skin tattered from the elements. He holds obsessively to his...

A Family Situation  His mom rushes out the door, new born in arms. Only ten years old and his father sees no reason to stay. Too young, he understands nothing of the dreadful scene that bleeds before him. His mother pleading as the young child's father rushes off in his old rusted ford. The tires screech, the moms falls to her knees crying upon the grass. Holding tightly the newly born child, it too cries in the tragedy of the moment. Woken from its slumber with no internal ability to ask why. Neither the new born nor the young boy knows the reason. The young boy feels only a sense to hide, fear curdles at his throat. But he does not cry, for he is too frightened to feel the grasp of sadness. He stands behind a tall plant that is just a few feet from the window that looks over the front yard. Peering with fearful eyes his upper lip slightly quivers as he sees his mom broken. He has no words to describe what he feels but his heart feels strange. He is pulled to come out ...

Want more?  YouTube A Letter Of Love I call to you my love, from the highest tower from the highest point. Not even the moon is out of my reach. My heart swells with love for you, to feel your lips against my lonely soul. To perch ourselves in the dead of night among the stars. To gasp at the sight of your body and behold what lies within. To savor you like ripe fruit, freshly plucked in detailed accord upon a summer breeze. To taste you in the bitter fall, to dance with you by a blazing flame beneath the falling snow. I wish us to gaze into empty blue skies, to lay with fingers laced, whispering our affections.  To beseech your heart beneath the wings of cupid. To sheathe your finger in the forever. To birth what ever desires you may yearn for. To hold you to the sun and let you sip upon its warmth as we guide ourselves through this wilderness of love.  I pray for us to never go without the thought of the other. Even through the waves of anger, to ...

Abused But Not Hopeless Three children and alone, abused in the last torment of what she thought was the opportunity of blooming lilies. Hoping to string them across her neck in the display of artistry between her and the love she had for her relationship. But quickly were the flowers trampled on beneath her mans lack of self-esteem. Bridging his hate for himself upon her and her children. And oh did he show it well, his hatred for himself. Sly in his words but weak in his actions. Raising his hand not only to her, but to the children. Leaving bruises, welts, eyes that would bring one to shiver upon seeing such brutality. His ever so false chivalry would play well after the fact. Creating his sorrow to be theirs, reaching for forgiveness but with horns. Hiding his scars, creating the children to be a burden to his wealth and his mental well-being. Nights would pass and not a single plate of food would be served. For she had no job, and his tongue would speak ugly to her own...

Empathy Is Our Apocalypse  The world is gone, not a single structure stands as it did before. Sands from far away lands, now rest here as if is to be their home. Cultures of others cleansed in the name of these sands. Deserted like the desert, threads of architecture split from the ground like slivers. Ashes cover the skies, the smell of burning flesh and gun powder enthrall the senses in disgust. Food is scarce, the weather, fickle against the black blind of clouds. It is a carnivorous scene, it looks as if the devil had kissed the earth. Screams from the distance echo through empty city streets. Filling the ears of those alone with much doubt, much horror. Feral beasts feast upon the dead with wild insatiable hunger. No communication but that of face to face and hand delivered letters is all that exists. Flames burn constant from the expulsion of oil from the earth. Families fear death as putrid souls gather in haste to take control. Pillaging the weak, murdering th...

Don't forget to take your soul on a ride A Man's Traveled Heart A Ballerina's Dream Come True  She was told to stop, she was told she would amount to nothing. That she is but a flimsy child withering to her imagination. A foolish heart with only a hand for disappointment.  And these words, these thoughts played like a song on repeat. Only thirteen and the world seemed to rage against her. It felt as if the world had built a wall she was never destined to climb. Even her own friends seemed to join in in the thoughts of her faults. Of creating a gossip of distortion of who this girl was.  Thorns is what this world is she thought, thorns is all it has. The budding of roses is never to be. They are cut the moment they try to spring to the sun. Only to be brought to the ground and trampled upon like dirt. Crushed with every passing moment, soon, to no longer be a rose. But a crumbled dream among the rest of the world.  She found no love in her dream, in...

A Simple Letter To My Love  Dear future love, Who ever you may be, I pray for your safe passage. Not only to the finding of my heart, but to the struggles of life. Through all things that wish to bring harm upon you, before, during, and after me. For I know the devil has no place of rest. I will be the utmost spectacle of perfection for you. Even if that means having to watch the sappiest shows and dramas I may find sour to my eyes. I will hold doors open for you, not because you are weak. But because you deserve the graces of a gentleman. I will be but the sunrise when your heart is heavy. I will lift it from the swamps of anguish and condensate upon your heart like dew upon morning grass. Bringing nutrients to the veins of your soul as we hold each other in the tough times, and the simple times. I will laugh when you do something dumb, as I hope you will do to me. As we are humans, and laughter upon stupidity, is the best lesson to see that mistakes are curable....

Be As Does A Tree This is your moment, where you will guide yourself like that of a tree. You will remain still in your beliefs. Holding through all weather though you may feel brittle in the coldness. In the lonesome nights toward your happiness as does the tree in winter. That stands alone among all the rest. Be gentle in your thoughts as does the tree. Growing steady and never to linger too long at one height. Grow with patience as does the tree, never faltering to what those around it do. Never listening to the faults that the mind gossips to stunt your rise. Build armor among your soul through all the suffering as does a tree in its growth. Growing from sapling, innocent and silent, to an abundant beauty of awe. But steady does it grow, with vigor even through the harshest of storms. And with each passing day, a new layer of bark is laid. A new ring with each passing year. As reminders of its vicious but glorious past, that has made it what it is today. A reminder of ...

We Have Forgotten Our Warriors  No longer do we praise the warrior like that in the days of the knight. No longer do we sit by our bedside and pray for the warrior as he dawns his armor for war. No longer do we weep in the destruction of man and the blood that spills upon sands.  Too many preach of the warrior as if their existence is futile in the eyes of change. That bringing weapon against evil is no way to live. But they do not see the tyranny of evil, the cumbersome loses and poison they bring.  Too many have not felt the heat of war, the anger of evil.  Too many have not seen the vision of hell upon earth. The screaming, the dying, the forgotten. The innocent spent as mere pawns to keep a regime thriving like jungles beneath rain.  Too many have not seen the tears of families, wives, sons, daughters, mothers, fathers, upon the death their warrior.  Few have felt the burden of the constant eye to stay alive. To wonder if th...

An Orphan Girl Who Found Her Soul  Sarah is but a newly adopted orphan.  Her parents had died in a car accident  when she was eight. She is sweet, beautiful, strong, but shy. Her hair golden, her eyes silky brown. Three years she was alone bouncing from one orphanage to the next. Being chosen from one foster family to the next, only to be let go because she did not listen well. Many families who took her in, found her lack of listening to be bothersome. Many of the foster parents found her lack of listening to be a possible mental deficiency, immediately wishing return. As if she is a defective product and needs to be tossed out. Strangely, she never cries, she has not cried since her parents died.  She is the kind of girl who would rather sit alone and stare out a window and dream of far of places. Rain is her favorite, there is something about the rhythm and sound of rain that catches her. Her new foster parents see how she enjoys staring into the world...