On Creative Writing, Art, and Lifestyle
I can't see myself when I look in the mirror But, I know who's there and I don't care I'll look the same as before. Just worse. I can't hear myself when I shout at the sky I haven't found my voice, but that was my choice When I told myself 'goodbye,' Voice hoarse. ... …
I want to thank Priya for nominating me to answer these 30 interesting questions about myself! I hope all of you will enjoy these questions and read to the very end, coming up with answers for yourself too! 1 What are your nicknames? What do you prefer to be called? I've had many nicknames, but …
A small make of beauty, propped up on a pedestal, Staring at nothing, not happy, no smile. No one is watching but a little boy, cranking it up so it click, click, clicks. A mouse scurries into his hole, upsetting the dust in the corner and sending a cobweb waving like a sail. The child …
If I should drop a stone into an inky lake, Do you think it would reach you, drop down right through the earth? Do you think it would find you, across the other side, If I should drop a stone into an inky lake? If you should make a kite with endless length of …
Faded rose petals stuffed in faded jean pockets. Your cheeks are rosy and your mouth is like a small bursting bud. I could give you the lavender, the baby's breath and forget-me-nots, but nothing else would you like better than the faded rose petals in my faded jean pockets. White-washed, low fences, I run my …
Gasping, choking, feet are slipping Pain and heartache, thoughts are dripping Crying out just one last time In case you hear me just in time That time has come and gone. Farewell! How I'd wished with me you'd dwell! Forever close with me I'd cherish Your dying love, till I'd too perish Gasping, choking, feet …
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 …
