Anger

Sometimes I want
to scream so loud
to shatter the ground
to crumble the mountains to destroy the peace

to let loose all emotion

And full-out scream

I want to let the world know

the unknown anger

Burried inside my veins

To let it escape

And for one second be calm

Relaxed

Serene

To have a chance at being free of

Stress, preoblems, carelessness

To be insouciant inside

And live without something

to tie me down

Without the welded metal

Clinging to my insides

I want to volcanicly erupt

Out of the frozen shell anger

Molds me into

I want to feel all the heat rush out

Of me and

be replaced by the

sweet cold.

Yet I cannot be that selfish

I cannot do this for reasons

Of higher importance

Than me

But can you imagine

Holding all that

in?

Glittering, Glistening, Sparkling, Shine

A patch of light, cuaght up in the sun

Waiting, waiting, just for someone to spot it, to admire it, and to notice it
Basking in its brilliance the sparkle of light shines its radiance

Glittering, glistening, sparkling, shine.

A lone star, visible to us as one

Twinkling aloft many others

Guiding our drowsiness into soft songs of sleep

Sweet dreams in the magic night air
Glittering, glistening, sparkling, shine.

A man gazes into a girl's eyes

Love swirls around the jubilant couple

Entranced, enlocked in each others' hearts,

Emotions pour through the glimmer in her gorgeous eyes that are
Glittering, glistening, sparkling, shine.

A shaft of light, simmering in the comfortable atmosphere

Comes through the window

Beckoning a wandering eye, to catch up to it, poses a challenge to

Catch its radiance amidst the struggles of the day, and you see it

Glittering, glistening, sparkling, shine.

A new idea, rambling on and on

Genius, wandering, flows through specks of pure creativity

Mind tinkering, forming, and evolving

Wonders are introduced to the world

Glittering, glistening, sparkling, shine.

All these come and I appreciate

Bathing in the glory of the small miracles of life

I am created and defined by what and how I live and I choose

To merit the minute wonders of my world, therefore I am

Glittering, glistening, sparkling, shine.s

Teaser Tuesday (1)

Ok, so this is a writing blog, yet I get much of my insight from reading, so why not give credit to books?!? Thanks to MizB from Should Be Reading for hosting this wonderful meme.
So here goes. My first official meme that I did not create. I am a follower! =)

Now I am reading The Sky is Everywhere by Jandy Nelson. It is an amazing book! To find out more, and to see the convincing post by my best friend that led me to read it, click here.
And now, the teaser:

"I start to think about all the things I haven't said since Bailey died, all the words stowed deep in my heart, in our orange bedroom, all the words in the whole world that aren't said after someone dies because they are too sad, too enraged, too devastated, too guilty, to come out-all of them begin to course inside me like a lunatic river. "

That is one of the more saddened parts of the book. There are many happy parts and also very sad parts. All of it is deep and emotional and intense. Definitely on my top list of "to-read" books.

The Last Doll

Inspired by Frances Hodgson Burnett's novel, A Little Princess, in which at one point Sara Crewe receives "the last doll" and mentions writing a poem about it.

Childhood memories
Stored away,

In the toy box,

In the attic,

Covered in cobwebs;

Lost is the spirited imagination.

In the eve
A grown lady,

Lying in bed,

Thinks of the past,
Igniting the carefree soul

Of the child.

Tinkering up the stairs,

Into the chest,

The toys relive memories

And set out to play.

In the bottom,

Lies lonely,

A single toy

That once lived.

Yet her life was cut short,

For the child

Was snatched from her childhood;

Gone were the days of insouciant playfulness.

She had matured,

Aged in an instant.

But tonight is special,
She lives on in imagination.

The last doll.

Hidden, buried at the bottom,

Rises up and comes to play;

Today she is free.

Silk ribbons curl round her hair,

Lace borders her sleevse,

A golden locket circles her neck,

A mauve frock outlines her features.

Pale blue eyes woven with glass,

That once were sullen and empty,

Sparkle in the sunlight of the child tonight.

Rosy cheeks become jolly;

Her lips form a smile,
She dances and frolicks,
The last doll lives.

She marked a point

When the child grew.

No longer able to play,

The last doll's heart was at rest.

That twas the night she reigned on,

Regal and royal;

Grand things happened,

But once.

For the the child ceased,

And the doll slept once more.

Waiting to play,

Always waiting:

The last doll.

Pencil

Dancing on imagination,

Twirling, spinning,

Into beautiful formations,

Creating

People, places, stories,

New lifetimes;

Emotions,

Go wild,

In an amazing,

Breathingtaking way,

To produce a sensation

So magnificent,

You are,

Dancing on imagination.

Chatuga Where's I'd Rather Be

Sorry I have not posted in a while. I have been at summer camp: Camp Chatuga! So now that I am back, I will post some more.

P.S. This is a really short post. More posts to come.

Inspiration for Writing

When you decide to write, how does it come to you? What inspires you? What is the force that brings you and writing together as one? For me, it is atmosphere. Where I am, and who I am around. The setting, the beauty, the peacefulness. All is taken into account when I decide to write. Normally inspiration strikes, a power not to be reckoned with, only appreciated; yet I am most likely to be in an area that is gorgeous, or has hidden beauty. A story, a deeper meaning, a postcard, picturesque scene. For example, I wrote my poem, Rolling Hills, while on a scenic highway on a road trip, while looking at the window at the magnificent rolling hills of the country of Tennessee. All together, I am inspired by my surroundings, the people, places, landscape, and beauty that I see. What inspires you?

Hebdomadal Anecdote (4)

For this week's HA, I've decided to make a post about a wonderful spot: the staircase at the Margaret Mitchell House. Of course, many have no idea where this is (fyi, it is on the 2.5 floor of the MMH- on the corner of Peachtree and 10th- and is reachable by the 3rd floor; it is a square furnished with a window overlooking a sign, trees, buildings, the road, and its furnished as well with dark green carpet and perfection), or what it means, in fact, I am probably one of very few who know it even exists, but that makes it all the more special. I have taken many writing courses over the years (when I was 9 until presently- almost 14-) and each time when we are told a prompt or exercise, and then told to spread out, I immediately rush to my special sanctum sanctorum. Inspiration comes, the atmosphere is perfect for anything, and it is like an escape from reality, yet it is reality, for which I am eternally grateful. My special spot has been the place where many of my poems, stories, ideas, etc., have come to life. Unfortunately, I am too old to be attending many more camps and programs there., thus I had to say farewell to my comfort and home. Before we parted (only literally), I wrote this poem to express my love for this spot: (we were writing odes.....)

"Ode to the Staircase"

O my beloved,

There through thick and thin;

I shall never ever forget you,

You've earned a special place within.

The window always shining,

does brighten up my day;

The ivy-coloured carpet,

Supports me as I lay.

The antiquated style,

Does flatter you so well;

You hold my inspiration,

And the secrets that I tell.

Every moment I spend,

Writing as I do;

I smile as I think,

O staircase, I love you.

And of course, I wrote that as I basked in the splendor of my staircase. =)

The Night

The night, a silent swan,

Dark as liquid fear,

Calls, breathes, echoes:

A sea of quiet slumber,

Blackness swells the eyes;

Dreaming doth surmise;

Light cannot escape - it's a vacant maze;

Waiting until the morn, saunters time into sleep.

This was written at the camp, again. It had a format as follows:

Line 1: alliteration

Line 2: simile

Line 3: personification

Line 4: metaphor

Line 5: imagery

Line 6: rhymes with line 5

Line 7: assonance

Line 8: consonance

So, yes. It may not be my normal style, yet I decided to post it because I was curious of opinions. It is rather deep and hard to follow, but I had fun writing it, so that is great! =)