Running
November 14, 2012
Petrarchan Sonnet
October 3, 2012
my heart
my heart, to you, is a throw away thing
it’s a cheap plastic lighter
running out of gas.
the more i burn
the less i am.
and i cannot do, but yearn
and scream,
“just stop.”
my heart, to you, is a throw away thing.
wasting like the core of finished fruit
faded from your eye.
those lashes flicker away from me now,
and gaze
the other way.
Golden Syrup
May 3, 2012
by Elexa Rose my chest is lined with golden syrup turned pink by the touch of my blood i breathe in hard the walls of my lungs stick together wrapped around my heart and the veins going in and going out it's solidifying grabbing a rich golden fist it trickles out of my ears and nose clogs my tear ducts there are lumps in my throat you can feel them if you press on my neck my sweat gets stuck my voice is a thin husk as i heave and swell and burst slowly still slowing.
Tomorrow will be Tuesday, maybe
January 23, 2012
A poem by Caroline Bird, Last Tuesday. I love it, you should love it.
Slow
January 16, 2012
Ten People In My Wonderful Life
December 24, 2011
Writing Excersise:
Pick ten people you know and write a one-sentence description for each of them.
- Never quite looking me in the eye, I could her that constant irritating flick on the pen in his right hand that paced out an off-beat rhythm, which he seemed to unconsiously speak in time to.
- From the scuffed black and white converse trainers and low-sitting drain-pipe jeans he gave off an over-confident air, but when he spoke with the most inoccent grin I’d ever seen I couldn’t help but feel as if I’d known him for years, and the bounce of the curls on his head when he laughed just made him seem even more harmless, but there was something about his slightly dusty blue eyes that made me stop and think, and I’m not sure what about.
- I’d never seen dull, sleepy eyes sparkle as much as his when he read the words that I never knew I’d longed to hear.
- She squeezed her volumptuous sides in the tight skirt, that I guess you could say accentuated her feminine curves, but the way she sucked in tightly on a thin cigarette and pouted into the reflection on her phone fixing a curl or two that fell out of place from her head told us that she was here for one thing only.
- The bitter taste was clear on her face though she tried to hide it; she exhaled slowly and controlled and handed it back to me, her long dark hair dancing like a black fire down her back and around her slightly too-wide shoulders, as if mocking the smoke she shunted from her chest.
- His eyes locked onto mine, his cheeky smile quickly flashed up as he made some midly amusing quip and passed another drink into my hands, being careful for our fingers not to touch.
- Slightly stooped, with soft eyes, he gave the appearance of offering his full attention yet it always seemed as if his mind was elsewhere, somewhere I wasn’t allowed to go.
- Large, plump, no make up, no care; her loose, oversized clothes hung like dead animals from her sloth-like limbs that moved as if she had already given up.
- Her terrifyingly tall legs strutted under a tight dress that teased with the idea of revealing the tip of her buttox.
- Always poised with an expression of discontent and armed with an attempt of sarcastic wit that came out more bitchy, he was the kind of guy that had to be your best friend for you not to hate him.
With Diction
December 7, 2011
Let’s call it an experiment, and this the results.
December 3, 2011
A Dream Within A Dream
November 4, 2011
Oh what I’d give to write like this. The famous ‘A Dream Within A Dream’, a poem written by Edgar Allan Poe. It takes something else to write a poem so beautiful, I’m working so hard at it, but it seems futile, in the mean time, I’ll surround myself with the breath-taking poems, such as this one. I love it.
A Dream Within A Dream by Edgar Allan Poe Take this kiss upon the brow!And, in parting from you now,
Thus much let me avow-
You are not wrong, who deem
That my days have been a dream;
Yet if hope has flown away
In a night, or in a day,
In a vision, or in none,
Is it therefore the less gone?
All that we see or seem
Is but a dream within a dream.
I stand amid the roar
Of a surf-tormented shore,
And I hold within my hand
Grains of the golden sand-
How few! yet how they creep
Through my fingers to the deep,
While I weep- while I weep!
O God! can I not grasp
Them with a tighter clasp?
O God! can I not save
One from the pitiless wave?
Is all that we see or seem
But a dream within a dream?
Day 5. Something I Hope To Do In My Life.
October 26, 2011
~Thirty Days of Truth Challenge (http://hope.gr/30-days-of-truth/)~
Well well well. I want to loads. I want to publish a novel and/or a collection of poetry. I want to present a radio show. I want to be on television. I want to write for a paper/magazine. I want to walk the red carpet. I want to visit every continent. I want to live in another country. I want an old fashion type writer. I want to get married. I want to have a family. I want to own a big, badass Bentley. I want to study every form of art there is. I want to do some good somewhere. I want to change the world. If I can make a positive impact on one person somewhere, change their life for the better, even if it’s just making them a little happier then it’s all worth it then, isn’t it. But one main thing that I hope to do in my life… it’s a tough one. I want to write a novel. That definitely comes top. But not just any old novel that sits on the shelves in Waterstones that nobody notices, I want people to read it and actually think, “you know, that really made me think about x, y and z”. Have you ever read a book that completely questioned your way of thinking? That stayed with you? I want to write something that people will study one day. That will cause controversy, will be loved and hated, criticised and recognised as great literature. Yeah it’s a long shot, but it’s what I hope for. We all have dreams.
