Posts filed under ‘Writing’

He Loves Me. Not

The reason for the last post over a week ago was that I was thinking of writing a poem and adding it to the end of the post, after I’d found some inspiration. However, dear inspiration never came, until tonight, when suddenly, sitting on the computer, I put my hands on the keyboard, and I wrote, and this is what came out. 🙂

Each time I see him,

My heart skips a beat,

And when he smiles,

I just melt like an ice scream on a hot summer’s day

 

This cannot be.

I cannot continue on like this.

I love him,

But this love causes me too much pain

 

Each time he speaks,

His voice twinkles like shining stars,

And when he laughs,

I just boil like water on the kettle

 

This cannot be.

I cannot continue on like this.

I do love him,

But he has fallen for another

 

Each time he looks my way,

I realise I can’t resist him,

And when he jokes around,

I just die inside like a rose-bud attacked by a canker worm.

 

This cannot be.

I cannot continue on like this.

I do love him,

But he doesn’t even know I exist.

 

The sad truth is that I’m the smart one

And he’s the popular one.

All he does is steal my homework

And give me sweet names to get what he wants.

He likes another,

And she’s a lucky gal,

Because she’s not the only one behind him.

 

The sad truth is that I love him,

But he does not.

All he does is laugh at my goofiness

And smile in my direction for fun.

I can’t hide my feelings,

And he knows so,

So he plays with my heart.

 

The sad truth is he loves me;

He loves me not. Not. Not.

 

 

 http://current.com/items/88493881_death_by_a_broken_heart

19 June 2008 at 9:40 pm 5 comments

Love Poems

Right. I’m back in a love mood. I’m visiting people home, including him, and, after a few months, I started thinking about him again, and wondered if I still feel something for him. Surprisingly, I think I do still like him, a lot, after almost a year, so this “escaping” is NOT working very much… maybe I should try a different method of making him history. Anyways, I started looking at some love poems, and here are a few nice ones which could apply to me:

 

I Love You

My knees start to weaken
At the first sight of your face
My heart starts to melt
At the thought of your embrace

Your love flows through me
Like a river flows down its path
Your kiss lifts me up so high
I could probably fall to my death

 more…

WHAT IS LOVE?

Author: S.E.Thompson

Love starts out small-

Too small to be noticed,

But in the end it conquers all.

 

What begins as a hug between friends
Can grow and grow
Until it’s something beautiful
that never ends.

Love is never sure,
But it trusts,
With a faith that is sweet and pure.

more…

11 June 2008 at 9:29 pm 2 comments

Lunatic!

After writing this, I even accept to myself I need some sort of pshycologist (some time or other I WILL write about why psycologists are a terrible waste of time) . Anyway, I thought of this “short story” as I was walking home on a nice, sunny evening, and well, I just had to write it down :–) In case you are to thick to realize, the last paragraph is the same as the 2nd… no, it wasn’t a mistake- it was done pupusefully. It’s to indicate continuance… a luncatic has  no limits, and, even though they don’t seem it, almost everyone could be a luncatic.

 

A spine-chilling cry sounds through the air. It ripples across the whole neighbourhood, and it startles every person.

 

A child playing with her dolls begins crying without reason, and cannot stop. A pregnant mother begins to go to labour months early. An aged man, resting in the sun, has a heart attack and does not awake. A fast-paced businessman hurrying home stops short and begins running. A bunch of teenagers taking drugs in the park drop them, flee, and never return. A shoe-shop keeper faints.

 

The only person who realises what just happened was a butcher. He’s already heard this sound. It is the sound of an animal’s guts being ripped from their bodies. Only this is not any animal. This is a human. He is shaken, but he is too late.

 

Someone stands at his door, grinning. Closing his eyes, he hopes the gut-ripping lunatic would be found some day, although it is doubtful. He is a respectful person in the community. With an agonising scream, which ripples across the whole neighbourhood, his guts are ripped out.

 

A child playing with her dolls begins crying without reason, and cannot stop. A pregnant mother begins to go to labour months early. An aged man, resting in the sun, has a heart attack and does not awake. A fast-paced businessman hurrying home stops short and begins running. A bunch of teenagers taking drugs in the park drop them, flee, and never return. A shoe-shop keeper faints.

11 June 2008 at 9:01 pm 1 comment

And to Think I Called you Friend

This is a poem inspired by a friend, who wrote a short story about a girl who run away from home and died. Admittedly, the story wasn’t that good (I didn’t have heart to tell her so- the plot was good, but the writing was ok-ish). Anyway, she wrote it in 1st person, and she wasn’t angry at the friend who ran away, but in this poem she is… Well, let’s let it speak for itself. Oh! and I need a better title suggestion!!!

 

Looking out the window,

Seeing the world go by.

When was the last time she spoke?

 

 

A raindrop falling from the sky,

The Heaven’s crying for me.

Why did she have to walk away?

 

 

Laughing in the rain,

Two friends joking around.

When was the last time she waved goodbye?

 

 

A thunder raging though the stars,

Reflecting the pain I feel today.

Why did she have to be so cruel?

 

 

Befriending me she taught me love,

Leaving she broke my heart,

Dying she crushed my hope,

And to think I called her friend.

7 June 2008 at 10:02 pm 2 comments

Killing Time

This is a short story/description I wrote for one of my friend’s drawings… I’ll try to get a link to it WHEN she accepts the description’s final version AND scans it in

It had been a foggy night when her father had been murdered, and she’d been turned out of her house with her sister. She’d vowed revenge on those who had brought that upon her. So, with a dagger in one hand, and a lamp in the other, she’d crept though the forest, to perform her first killing.

It’s been a year today. she thought, sadly. She held her lamp up high. It shined on the walls she knew so well it could’ve been her house. Her agitated breathing disturbed a fly on the wall. She’d done this so many times. Then why was she nervous? For the past year, her nights had been based on killing all of them. One by one. And she’d managed to shut all thought, all possible guilt from her mind.

Not today. Today was different. She turned her face to a side. No. Don’t think. But it was so cruel. So young. Why? Why would such a child want to kill? Behind her, determined as she’d been on that first day, stood her sister. Six years old, and already about to lose her innocence. How had she allowed this to happen? She turned again to the door in front. She fought all desire to turn her sister away, to shed tear. Innocence was for the weak. Good. Once more, she wiped all thought from her mind.

Without thinking any longer, she put out the flame, and, placing the lamp on the floor, she pushed the heavy door open. She gripped the dagger. Slowly, almost unconsciously, she stepped into the darkness. Her sister, without hesitation, entered behind her, smiling.

It was killing time.

21 May 2008 at 5:36 pm 4 comments

Breaking Free

I don’t usually write more than one thing a day, but this poem (like many others) came to me as I was doing some quick creative, poem writing, just as with “Never-Ending Sleep“. Obviously, it won’t be half as good, but it’s still good for a 15-minute writing = )

 

 

And then the world shall turn black,

And the stars shall disappear.

That shall be the time

You shall shine,

Like the true beauty you are.

 

And then seas rise up,

And the winds break free,

That shall be the time

You shall be recognised,

Like the true leader you are.

 

And then my life will end,

And your heart be broken,

That shall be the time,

You shall live,

Like the true bird you are.

 

21 April 2008 at 10:01 pm Leave a comment

Never-Ending Sleep

The house deserted,

The skies dark.

My heart looks longing

Upon that shining star.

How I wish I could fly away,

And find that peace

You only encounter

In that never-ending sleep,

That peaceful darkness of nothingness.

It is that moment I await

With great impatience.

Something I wrote quickly… nothing much, but I’m slightly proud of it; it fits my melancholy mood of the moment

15 April 2008 at 9:30 pm 2 comments

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