On Creative Writing, Art, and Lifestyle
Beautif'lly, the girl in the water, she peers up through the mirk. "Oh, pretty girl, where come you from to end up where you lurk?" I wave my hand, and she waves back, her smile matches mine. And from my seat up'on the turf, I see she fairs not fine. Like me she suffers trials …
Why can’t tears wash away sadness? What gain is there by mourning? If we live only for our lives to be stolen away, why do we live at all? The sun has not cared for us, it scorches with a beauty that blinds; it cannot thaw the icy hearts that break our hearts of stone. …
Chicken scratch on a page shoved into a dirty envelope--that's all I can manage. It doesn't really say much--I don't want it to. I was hoping you'd understand what I mean. It's raining outside and everyone's coats are slick with mud. I've got a bit of cover from the worst of it, but the muck …
I had a dream once when I was around eight or nine years old that has not escaped my memory. In my dream, I am running from a tiger through tall grasses. It must have been in India. I cannot see anything before me but grass, nothing above be but grass; and when I look …
My life has become an endless dance with Fate I bow and she curtsies, her smile is somewhat mischievous Then, with a could hand, she takes my arm I try to lead, as it is proper I should, but her grip is strong and she twirls beyond my control She spins faster and faster and …
From you, love, I take my leave. I take my heart back and bandage its bleeding wounds. Your face was wrought with pain and though I knew it was a torturous death to which I had sentenced you, my lie was stronger, because it held the truth of my family. I chose for you not …
Was it too much to say that I loved you? Did it really cause you harm? Was it too much to say that I needed you, Before I was ripped from your arms? But, if your grip had been ever tighter, Maybe I would have been spared. But, now that my heart is bleeding, bleeding, …
