Tag: writing

Vines

Four windows and twenty tabs

Drowning in green quicksand

Not understanding how to map

Unsure if she really can

 

Writing and hating how it sounds

Compliments that aren’t profound

Makes you question the bow

Wondering if people feel different now

 

How disappointed they will be

Debt up to her ears

No one to hear

Her swinging from a vine

A Conversation

My husband and I walked home from the movie theater

He wanted to talk about all the things we were going to do together

In the future

 

He wanted to talk about us and Thailand

He wanted to talk about the gay and lesbian clubs

Us becoming one

 

All the great adventures

And all I could do was stay silent

 

And she said

Are they things you want to do?

Are they the things you feel passionate about?

 

Asking all the right questions, I replied

 

They are things that I once thought of doing

They are things that I should want to do

My fear overcomes all adventure that life sometimes gives one

 

He thinks I negative because I have no goal

Dreamless, but I cannot be either of these

Neither negative or positive only always revolving

 

What do I want next?

What should be my next move?

How do I force myself to change in the way I need?

 

She answers

 

I think your next move should be figuring out what you want.

I wish all of us could take like six months to do something interesting

Nothing but daydream and explore and figure out our goals

 

But I don’t even understand how to try

Plus, how will I know if I found it?

 

It’s all so scary and hard . . . .

 

Swinging In The Dark

It’s unsettling

The night calms yet brings dreams

Nightmares

She never did change

Was it for the people who wrote in her yearbook?

Was it for herself?

She sits in the dark staring at walls

She doesn’t know how to do this

There are no red marks on her arms

A sure sign she’s getting better

Nightmares

She pushed friends away and died

They won’t miss her anyway

She made sure of it

She’s too curious to leave them alone

Internet addiction

Social Media worship

Nightmares

Even when home she wants to be there

Home

Where is it?

She likes the feel of night

Never scared of walking alone in it

Darkness is different

She always runs away from it

Swings are perfection

The only thing that will truly make her happy

Swinging in the dark

 

 

Bridges & Stars

She dries her tears with her arm and looks out into the infamous candle light sky. Her last cigarette in the pack, last of her world gets flicked, dying in the night. She stands up “Here it goes, Goodbye.” She says to the world jumping off her favorite bridge into the sea.

Coined

HAPPY NEW YEAR EVERYONE!!! Hope your New Year’s was as great as you had hoped it would be.

For this exercise, we had the first 15 mins of class to make up a poem that could fit as many words possible on this list. The professor liked how I started mine.

What do you think? Can you do better? Write it in the comments 🙂

Grace Obedient Counterchange
Fall Mirage Rook
Taken Rake Hick
Tamarack Second Restrain
Hibiscus Dagger Deign
Charge Slither Taste
Stumble Veil Coin
Hound Cowed Restless
Visible Viridian Bend
Throat Counsel Earlobe

I. Have. Stumbled.

Fallen is more like it

You have taken my heart

Caught like a pheasant at the throat by a hound

 

I couldn’t show restraint

I slithered my way into yours

Took charge of this mirage of love

 

Restlessly raked my way through the hicks

Who savagely hurt you

The king has captured the rook

 

Coining an obedient lover

A veil was placed upon your head

Our grace was soon fought after

 

A second taste of life together

We deign at any others love

They couldn’t be any stronger

Stain

All I could see was red. Which, I guess, is better than only seeing black, white, and some grays. I should get out of this tub before it goes too far. I gasp for air coming out of the water. I step out onto the cold white tile and allow the red to drip. I slowly walk to the towel cabinet, wrap one around my body, wrap a small one on my upper arm. It wasn’t deep enough; I wasn’t in there long enough. So, I am alive, and I take a deep breath. I bandage up my arm, get dressed, and walked out my door.
“Elizabeth!! Hey! Where have you been? Everyone was looking for you after the party.”
“Hey, Mike! Oh yea, sorry, I needed some sleep. I was home the whole time. I had dropped my cell in the tub so that no one could reach me. Tell everyone I’m good, alright.”
He sighs. “Ok, Liz. Are you going to work? I’ll come to pick you up afterward, ok?” He runs in front of me to look me in the eye when he says this. Does he only see red too?
“Yeah. Ok, I get off at midnight, maybe a little later. Are you sure that’s not too late?” Although people are annoying, it feels right to be around someone right now. I don’t know how long I’ll be able to have these people in my life. I should enjoy it while it lasts.
His face lights up. “It’s never too late. Both of us are some kind of a weird insomniac. I’ll see you later, chin up.”
No matter how lost and useless I feel, helping customers, interacting with people will always make me feel better. I don’t know why that is. Is it because I don’t have to think about me, where my life is going or how I’m not good at anything. Time goes too quickly when you are enjoying yourself. I joke with all the customers, I joke with all my managers; and I kid myself out the door into the winter night air. It’s that fresh taste. You know, the firsts of winter, it’s about 28 degrees, not much wind but enough to make your cheeks and nose hate you. I think about walking home instead of having Mike drive me. It’s so lovely out. Maybe I can convince him to walk. I don’t want to be completely alone right now. I feel something pull at my waist and yelp.
“You actually got out on time tonight. It’s a miracle!” Mike pulls me in close from behind. I know this is an action of a boyfriend, but he isn’t mine. He’s been with his current girlfriend for two years. She’s adorable. Mike has just been a close friend since the start of elementary school. I’ve been waiting for the day he’s going to leave me. Cause everyone leaves someday.
“I KNOW!!! Today was a good day too. It was slow; no one was in a bad mood. I also got wine as a tip!”
“Alright! Let’s get tipsy and toasty. I’ll cook late-late dinner.”
“Sounds beyond perfect. Let’s watch a random lesbian movie on Netflix. You know, one of the weird ones that make you question how long and in-depth sex should be.”
“Great. I’ll cook pasta then. Slurping needs to be in effect for these kinds of movies.”
We are laughing on the couch two bottles later, remembering what’s happened in our small town. Movie over and one of the actresses resembling the first girl I ever liked, we started talking about our community’s deaths and births. The heroin epidemic and people popping out babies left, and right has left us the weird ones out. Then it happened. So much wine goes right to the bladder. I forgot I never cleaned the tub out when I heard him yell.
“Elizabeth!! There’s this huge red stain in the bathtub!!! It’s the whole bottom of it! What happened,” I need to make up an excuse, anything to make sure he never knows.
“Oh. That old stain? You don’t remember it was from that time I dyed my shirts red. You know it’s my favorite color. Guess we haven’t hung out in my apartment in a while. We usually go to yours.”
“I think I would have remembered that.” He studies my face as if to catch the lie. “Oh, wait, I do remember. You had told me, though, that it would only last a few weeks. It’s been a whole half a year. I think you need some bleach.”
I smile at him. Relieved that he believed my lie. “Oh no, it’s fine. A stain never hurt anybody. It’s probably because I waited until the next day to clean it out. It’ll never come out now.” I wonder if I had succeeded today if he’d see that stain in every bathtub. Suppose I would be the biggest stain on his heart. A living breathing stain.

The Return

In High School, I was never good at writing complete stories. So, when I found out that all I needed to do was write short beginning paragraphs, the ideas never stopped coming.

The Return
I remember the last time we saw each other. We kissed by our waterfall and held each other close. It was my last day in Khahi, where my heart was. After twenty years, I’ve returned. I landed one foot on the ground; the next thing I knew, I was looking up at my Angel. “I missed you so much. I’m glad you have finally returned to me, Beauty.” She kissed me long and hard.

The Great
My name is LuQuita; I bet you’ve never heard it before. It’s an atypical name, but it’s mine, and one day it’s going to be in lights. The art of acting has always been my dream, being on stage, and pleasing the crowd. So, if you’d be so kind as to put money in my can to help me get to Cali, it would be much obliged.

Creative Writing

One of my friends had ADHD, and I could see a contrast between when she took her meds, and when she didn’t. This poem depicts how I see the phenomenon of Adderal on the brain.

Adderall

Concentration sixty-four no repeats or hesa
Did you know that people evolved from apes?
It’s something I learned while writing a long essay
Essays are actually alright when you’re eating grapes

Concentration sixty-four divided by eight equals eight
Midterms are coming, and the work is piling up
I’m trying not to bother my roommate this late
I drink the medication down with whatever is in my cup

Concentration sixty-four no repeats or hesitation
All of my words are coming together
I wrote my paper with no limitation
Compiling research isn’t my thing either

Concentration sixty-four no repeats or hesitation
I’ll go first, you’ll go second
Finishing my paper alleviates my tension
Now to bed, it beckoned

Concentration sixty-four
I don’t think I’ve ever finished that game before