Every friendship will change along with time,
The strong bonds you have will wither and die.
Moments you share will not be like their prime,
When times of confiding will not apply.
And along the lines of your own device,
You’ll always hear a word of advice.
A word that tells you you’re drifting away
From the world you were once able to play.
A world of cakes and cookies fading,
A universe of money and watches overtaking.
The thoughts of balloons and puppies decaying
Leaving only the facts of reality awaiting.
When you can’t realize what you’re doing wrong,
You turn to your friends, to guide you in the right direction.
They help you once again feel fierce and strong,
Giving you hugs, comfort and sympathy from their collection.
********************************************************************
Girls are petty, jealous, and catty,
Girls are bubbly, cheery, and chatty.
Girls can make each other cry so many tears,
Girls can apologize, being so sincere.
Girls will gossip, lie, and pretend to like you,
Girls will defend, trust you, and stay true
Boys are stubborn, strong, and annoying,
Boys are sensitive, caring, and adoring.
Boys can fight with their fists so scary,
Boys can love, when other emotions vary.
Friends can be girls, friends can be boys,
Friends will be selfish, friends will share toys,
Friends are going to fight, friends are always together,
Friends are spiteful, friends are forever.
************************************************************
Apologies only get you so far,
Until theyre meaningless
"I',m sorry" like abroken record,
You seem not to realize
the degree in which it hurts
for me to put so much effort
and not see the same returned
THeres nothing left to say,
this is the final chance,
I gave you all this time
to turn things around
I may care too much
or you may care too little ,
but I;ve realized the more I give,
the more you take,
and this frienship is more than fake.
*********************************************
Those timeless chuckles,
Those rowdy roars,
The smiles will fade,
Once they part through those doors.
Carefree and loving,
Impatient they may be,
But later in life,
Time ticks so slowly.
Seemingly fearless,
With unbroken hearts,
They’ll forever be changed,
When that new world starts.
That natural smile
Will become rare to find,
While heartaches and headaches
Fill your mind.
You always wanted
To grow so fast,
But once you have,
You’ll wish for the past.
Cherish the days
When your worries are little,
Before you know it,
Life is an unsolvable riddle.
<3
Thursday, June 10, 2010
ANOTHER POEM.
NARHWHAL NON BELIEVERS, THIS ONE’S FOR YOU
Mom. I HATE YOU.
For every time I’ve been denied,
Of going with my friends sometime,
I hope aliens take you to Mars,
Along the way, you’re smashed with cars.
For every sentence you screamed at me
And all the moments you’ve ignored my pleas,
You'll surely lose eveything in your wallet,
and while picking it up, get clunked with a mallet.
Now everytime you make me cry,
Yelling at me, or trying to pry,
Dad will trheaten to leave you,
and tell you he hasn't stayed true.
I don't have a job, and nothing I'm saving,
And you won't give me money, even when I behave.
FOr this you'll pay a cruel, brutal toll,
I'm going to beam you in the head with a huge metal pole.
You take my sister's side in every fight,
It drives me crazy, it makes me uptight.
Because of this unneccsary taunting,
In your room, I hope hoffiying ghosts are haunting.
Mom. I HATE YOU.
For every time I’ve been denied,
Of going with my friends sometime,
I hope aliens take you to Mars,
Along the way, you’re smashed with cars.
For every sentence you screamed at me
And all the moments you’ve ignored my pleas,
You'll surely lose eveything in your wallet,
and while picking it up, get clunked with a mallet.
Now everytime you make me cry,
Yelling at me, or trying to pry,
Dad will trheaten to leave you,
and tell you he hasn't stayed true.
I don't have a job, and nothing I'm saving,
And you won't give me money, even when I behave.
FOr this you'll pay a cruel, brutal toll,
I'm going to beam you in the head with a huge metal pole.
You take my sister's side in every fight,
It drives me crazy, it makes me uptight.
Because of this unneccsary taunting,
In your room, I hope hoffiying ghosts are haunting.
ANOTHER POEM.
Burning, breaking, buried.
My life, my hope, my heart.
Smoldering to the very last ounce,
My eyes couldn’t bear it.
My childhood-crushed and forgotten,
My future- now dim and desolate.
This moment- one I will never forget
The cries, the fear, the desperation,
Smash me into reality
Kick me into despair
My life, my hope, my heart.
Smoldering to the very last ounce,
My eyes couldn’t bear it.
My childhood-crushed and forgotten,
My future- now dim and desolate.
This moment- one I will never forget
The cries, the fear, the desperation,
Smash me into reality
Kick me into despair
SONNET
SONNET. Kind of. Without that Pentameter Business.
Every friendship will change along with time,
The strong bonds you have will wither and die.
Moments you share will not be like their prime,
When times of confiding will not apply.
There will be nothing more than the past’s thrill,
Some forced smiles and unrefined glares.
You’ll watch her mature as you remain still
Knowing you’re the only one who still cares.
At the park you played in, you’ll remember the name,
When you hear that song, you’ll remember the voice.
In your mind- that forgotten “Forever” claim
Then you’ll question; by fate or by choice?
Yes, friendships will change as your days get longer,
But not all friendships go amiss, some get stronger.
Every friendship will change along with time,
The strong bonds you have will wither and die.
Moments you share will not be like their prime,
When times of confiding will not apply.
There will be nothing more than the past’s thrill,
Some forced smiles and unrefined glares.
You’ll watch her mature as you remain still
Knowing you’re the only one who still cares.
At the park you played in, you’ll remember the name,
When you hear that song, you’ll remember the voice.
In your mind- that forgotten “Forever” claim
Then you’ll question; by fate or by choice?
Yes, friendships will change as your days get longer,
But not all friendships go amiss, some get stronger.
BATTLE PEICE 3
Yo
Yo
Yo
In the morning when I wake up
I look over to my right
I see a girl just like me
But a little shorter in height
Even though we fight a lot
And scream and yell,
We can finish each other’s sentences
And sometimes get along swell
Yo
Yo
Yo
We look kind of similar
And sleep together in one room
We have a good friendship
Cause we’re from the same womb
Even though you’re younger
I still trust you all the same,
But when we get in trouble
You’re always the one I blame
Yo
Yo
Yo
You are weird
I pretend I don’t know you
But you always help me out
When I come home after curfew
Although you’re awkward
And never lend me clothes,
I take them anyway,
And everybody knows
Yo
Yo
Yo
I always call you names
And tell you that you’re dumb
But when I think about it
You’re my very best chum*
When we have a catch together
You miss every ball
Then I throw it at you harder,
Just to make you fall
Yo
Yo
Yo
When we are both grounded
On a Saturday night
We always have a blast
Until we see the sunlight
I blocked you on facebook
You wont accept my requests
And when I don’t see you for a while
I kind of miss you, I confess
Yo
Yo
Yo
You can make me laugh when I’m blue
And cry when I’m smiling
Even though I sort of love you
You’re very beguiling**
Mommy thinks that we’re abnormal
Because we constantly have quarrels
I remind her that we’re sisters
And fighting is in our morals
Yo
Yo
Yo
WORD
Yo
Yo
In the morning when I wake up
I look over to my right
I see a girl just like me
But a little shorter in height
Even though we fight a lot
And scream and yell,
We can finish each other’s sentences
And sometimes get along swell
Yo
Yo
Yo
We look kind of similar
And sleep together in one room
We have a good friendship
Cause we’re from the same womb
Even though you’re younger
I still trust you all the same,
But when we get in trouble
You’re always the one I blame
Yo
Yo
Yo
You are weird
I pretend I don’t know you
But you always help me out
When I come home after curfew
Although you’re awkward
And never lend me clothes,
I take them anyway,
And everybody knows
Yo
Yo
Yo
I always call you names
And tell you that you’re dumb
But when I think about it
You’re my very best chum*
When we have a catch together
You miss every ball
Then I throw it at you harder,
Just to make you fall
Yo
Yo
Yo
When we are both grounded
On a Saturday night
We always have a blast
Until we see the sunlight
I blocked you on facebook
You wont accept my requests
And when I don’t see you for a while
I kind of miss you, I confess
Yo
Yo
Yo
You can make me laugh when I’m blue
And cry when I’m smiling
Even though I sort of love you
You’re very beguiling**
Mommy thinks that we’re abnormal
Because we constantly have quarrels
I remind her that we’re sisters
And fighting is in our morals
Yo
Yo
Yo
WORD
BATTLE PIECE 2
Yo
Yo
Yo
Today at school
It was so wild
Everyone was screaming
Cause Battle got them riled
Yo
Yo
Yo
Face paint and sweat bands
Sophomores rule the land
And everybody understands
That they should follow our commands
And listen to our demands
And we wont shake hands
Yo
Yo
Yo
We will win all the races
With our painted faces
And in all cases
We rule all the places
So clear all the spaces
And well come with graces
Maybe we’ll give you embraces
Yo
Yo
Yo
Yo
Yo
Today at school
It was so wild
Everyone was screaming
Cause Battle got them riled
Yo
Yo
Yo
Face paint and sweat bands
Sophomores rule the land
And everybody understands
That they should follow our commands
And listen to our demands
And we wont shake hands
Yo
Yo
Yo
We will win all the races
With our painted faces
And in all cases
We rule all the places
So clear all the spaces
And well come with graces
Maybe we’ll give you embraces
Yo
Yo
Yo
BATTLE PEICE 1
Yo
Yo
Yo
Plaid and fuzzy
These PJ’s are so comfy
I wear them all the time
At every hour in the night
I wear them when I watch movies
And sometimes I drink smoothies
Hanging with my groupies
Yo
Yo
Yo
My jammies are so fly
Cooler than you can buy
Even though they don’t match my snuggie
Just GIVE ME A HUGGIE
Really soft and really warm
Theyll protect me in a storm
Yo
Yo
Yo
When your hanging around
Even chilling in town
Just wear your pajamas
And so can yo mommas
Sweats are pretty nice
Wearing them is wise
Yo
YO
Yo
When im laying in my bed
All washed and fed
I thankful that im cozy
With my teddy I named Rosie
Slippin’ on those slippers
Forget the jean’s zippers
Because pajamas are where its at
That’s what up with that
Yo
Yo
Yo
Pajamas are really great
I put them on at eight
Really wonderful,
And made out of wool
With my PJ’s im so cool
cause im wearing them to school
WORD
Yo
Yo
Plaid and fuzzy
These PJ’s are so comfy
I wear them all the time
At every hour in the night
I wear them when I watch movies
And sometimes I drink smoothies
Hanging with my groupies
Yo
Yo
Yo
My jammies are so fly
Cooler than you can buy
Even though they don’t match my snuggie
Just GIVE ME A HUGGIE
Really soft and really warm
Theyll protect me in a storm
Yo
Yo
Yo
When your hanging around
Even chilling in town
Just wear your pajamas
And so can yo mommas
Sweats are pretty nice
Wearing them is wise
Yo
YO
Yo
When im laying in my bed
All washed and fed
I thankful that im cozy
With my teddy I named Rosie
Slippin’ on those slippers
Forget the jean’s zippers
Because pajamas are where its at
That’s what up with that
Yo
Yo
Yo
Pajamas are really great
I put them on at eight
Really wonderful,
And made out of wool
With my PJ’s im so cool
cause im wearing them to school
WORD
Monday, May 24, 2010
PROJECT PROPOSAL
I would like to write a series of poems, perhaps in several different styles with the reoccuring theme of friendships because poetry is something that I like and friendship is something that I have alot of expirience with and can write about.
Actually, change of plans... i would like to write a very long poem dedicated to my love of Miley Cyrus.
Actually, change of plans... i would like to write a very long poem dedicated to my love of Miley Cyrus.
Tuesday, May 4, 2010
Sonnet. Kind Of. Without That Pentameter Business.
Every friendship will change along with time,
The strong bonds you have will wither and die.
Moments you share will not be like their prime,
When times of confiding will not apply.
There will be nothing more than the past’s thrill,
Some forced smiles and unrefined glares.
You’ll watch her mature as you remain still
Knowing you’re the only one who still cares.
At the park you played in, you’ll remember the name,
When you hear that song, you’ll remember the voice.
In your mind- that forgotten “Forever” claim
Then you'll question; by fate or by choice?
Yes, friendships will change as your days get longer,
But not all friendships go amiss, some get stronger.
<3
The strong bonds you have will wither and die.
Moments you share will not be like their prime,
When times of confiding will not apply.
There will be nothing more than the past’s thrill,
Some forced smiles and unrefined glares.
You’ll watch her mature as you remain still
Knowing you’re the only one who still cares.
At the park you played in, you’ll remember the name,
When you hear that song, you’ll remember the voice.
In your mind- that forgotten “Forever” claim
Then you'll question; by fate or by choice?
Yes, friendships will change as your days get longer,
But not all friendships go amiss, some get stronger.
<3
Tuesday, April 13, 2010
Aftermath.
Burning, breaking, buried.
My life, my hope, my heart.
Smoldering to the very last ounce,
My eyes couldn’t bear it.
My childhood-crushed and forgotten,
My future- now dim and desolate.
This moment- one I will never forget
The cries, the fear, the desperation,
Smash me into reality
Kick me into despair
My life, my hope, my heart.
Smoldering to the very last ounce,
My eyes couldn’t bear it.
My childhood-crushed and forgotten,
My future- now dim and desolate.
This moment- one I will never forget
The cries, the fear, the desperation,
Smash me into reality
Kick me into despair
Thursday, April 8, 2010
PIECE NUMERO TRE
Kara Curtin 3-2-10
Continuation of the Parrot Story
As the harsh sound of my cage being handled filled the air, we walked up the pathway to the familiar, creamy white house. The door creaked open as the distinct smell in which I knew all too well smothered my cage. It’s just as I left it, I thought. I was gently handed to the meat packer who threw my cage carelessly across the room and into a dark corner. They disappeared into the kitchen, which was blocked from my view by a wall with many pictures hanging- pictures of me, pictures of us. She hasn’t forgotten, I know she hasn’t. My eyes darted around the room, looking for signs of a permanent guest. Well, there’s two men’s jacket’s on the coat rack, and an ash tray on the dark wood coffee table. She was never a smoker, but I prayed that she started since I’ve been gone.
All I could hear was a muttered conversation between the two, and it was getting louder as it progressed. I strained my ears and shuffled to the front of my cage to listen intently. “I don’t see why you can’t let me have my way, just once!” She said in a tone I recognized immediately- it was her furious voice. I didn’t even have to see, because I knew that along with that shriek, her eyes were wide and her brows firm, just the way they used to be.
“I don’t want chicken tonight!” The meat packer roared in response. I sighed with unbelief and discontent. Are they really fighting about what to have for dinner? The way it sounded, a war was about to begin in that kitchen. She was always patient and passive, and I knew this explosion of anger was the work of the meat packer.
An empty, aching feeling filled my stomach and I couldn’t help but wince as tears slowly fell from my eyes. What has happened? Her nut brown eyes were always full of joy and pure happiness as I remember. The dresses she wore were bright and peppy, matching her bubbly personality. This is not the woman I saw, not at all. She stalked into the living room, and I instantly straightened up as my eyes followed her every move, searching for a familiar sign from the woman I once knew. She ungracefully fell onto the couch and remarked, “Well then, you can make whatever you want to eat yourself.” She threw her feet up onto the coffee table, reached for the remote, and clicked the “power” button as the television came alive with a bright light illuminating the dark living room. This is around the time where she would be tying her jogging sneakers and going out for a run, then coming back, and cuddling with me while the fire churned out the perfect amount of light- just enough to see her radiant face in the darkness.
RING! RING! RING! The phone filled the house with a high pitched tone. “Get the phone!” She screamed not very lady like. The sound of her tired, strained, unhappy voice pierced my ears, and my heart.
Continuation of the Parrot Story
As the harsh sound of my cage being handled filled the air, we walked up the pathway to the familiar, creamy white house. The door creaked open as the distinct smell in which I knew all too well smothered my cage. It’s just as I left it, I thought. I was gently handed to the meat packer who threw my cage carelessly across the room and into a dark corner. They disappeared into the kitchen, which was blocked from my view by a wall with many pictures hanging- pictures of me, pictures of us. She hasn’t forgotten, I know she hasn’t. My eyes darted around the room, looking for signs of a permanent guest. Well, there’s two men’s jacket’s on the coat rack, and an ash tray on the dark wood coffee table. She was never a smoker, but I prayed that she started since I’ve been gone.
All I could hear was a muttered conversation between the two, and it was getting louder as it progressed. I strained my ears and shuffled to the front of my cage to listen intently. “I don’t see why you can’t let me have my way, just once!” She said in a tone I recognized immediately- it was her furious voice. I didn’t even have to see, because I knew that along with that shriek, her eyes were wide and her brows firm, just the way they used to be.
“I don’t want chicken tonight!” The meat packer roared in response. I sighed with unbelief and discontent. Are they really fighting about what to have for dinner? The way it sounded, a war was about to begin in that kitchen. She was always patient and passive, and I knew this explosion of anger was the work of the meat packer.
An empty, aching feeling filled my stomach and I couldn’t help but wince as tears slowly fell from my eyes. What has happened? Her nut brown eyes were always full of joy and pure happiness as I remember. The dresses she wore were bright and peppy, matching her bubbly personality. This is not the woman I saw, not at all. She stalked into the living room, and I instantly straightened up as my eyes followed her every move, searching for a familiar sign from the woman I once knew. She ungracefully fell onto the couch and remarked, “Well then, you can make whatever you want to eat yourself.” She threw her feet up onto the coffee table, reached for the remote, and clicked the “power” button as the television came alive with a bright light illuminating the dark living room. This is around the time where she would be tying her jogging sneakers and going out for a run, then coming back, and cuddling with me while the fire churned out the perfect amount of light- just enough to see her radiant face in the darkness.
RING! RING! RING! The phone filled the house with a high pitched tone. “Get the phone!” She screamed not very lady like. The sound of her tired, strained, unhappy voice pierced my ears, and my heart.
PIECE NUMERO DUE
Kara Curtin 3-17
BEEP BEEP BEEP! The alarm clock on the table rang and rang while the Hailey’s eyes clenched shut and she felt around for a pillow to cover her ears with. After the “snooze” effect wore off five minutes later, she tumbled out of a web of blankets and stalked towards her closet, grabbing at her green sweater. Hailey heard the ringing of her phone and walked back over to her bed, after answering a text message, she got a quick glimpse of the time- 7:05 AM. She felt her stomach drop as she dashed towards the bathroom and brushed her teeth and hair with lightening speed, knowing she only had 5 minutes until her carpool arrived for school.
Stumbling out of her house and into the awaiting car with her shoes and socks in one hand, and an apple in the other, Hailey whipped around as she felt the weight on her shoulder suddenly disappear. “Why now?” Hailey thought, as she saw her books splattered along the sidewalk along with her new bag that now had a new broken strap.
Plopping down in the first row, third seat of her first period social studies class, Hailey decided that she wouldn’t let her bad morning effect the rest of her day. “Good morning, class. Today I’m going to start by giving back your tests from last week. Most of you did rather well.” Hailey braced herself- she thought that she did alright on the test, and was hoping for at least a B. Mrs. Jacobs threw a paper onto her desk, and Hailey’s eyes darted towards the red “F” circled at the top. Rolling her eyes, she shoved the paper into her bag and crossed her arms, trying to control her anger.
Hailey shuffled into the locker room after school to get ready for her softball game. While rummaging through the pile of clothes in her locker, she realized she could only find one sock. She began to panic- the game was in 15 minutes and she couldn’t play with one sock. With the locker empty and the surrounding floor a disaster, she searched for her coach, and panted, “I can’t find my other sock! Do you have an extra pair?” The coach shook his head, and shrugged with a remorseful smile. Letting out a long “uuuggghhh,” Hailey knew what that meant. Benched.
Barging through the door of her room, throwing her books onto the chair, and whipping her shoes from her feet to the closet door, Hailey dived onto her bed and laid face down, still and silent. Today couldn’t have been worse, she thought while replaying not only the moment she got her social studies test back, but also when she spilled her lunch onto her new pair of jeans, lost the $20 her mother gave her for a field trip, and unintentionally burped when raising her hand to answer a question during English class. She winced when she thought about how she ungracefully knocked into the senior she’s had a major crush on for months, and pouted when realizing that her first conversation with him started with, “Hey! Watch where you’re going!” and ended with, “Uh, sorry.”
Breathing heavily and remaining still, Hailey let the silence surround her. Suddenly, as if she was drifting off to sleep, her relaxed state was shattered by an alarming noise of a monotonous “BEEP BEEP BEEP.” She sprung out of her bed, and frantically looked around, confused. Glancing at the time on the clock, 7:05 AM, she grabbed at her green sweater in the closet and picked up her shoes as she ran out of her room and out of her house.
BEEP BEEP BEEP! The alarm clock on the table rang and rang while the Hailey’s eyes clenched shut and she felt around for a pillow to cover her ears with. After the “snooze” effect wore off five minutes later, she tumbled out of a web of blankets and stalked towards her closet, grabbing at her green sweater. Hailey heard the ringing of her phone and walked back over to her bed, after answering a text message, she got a quick glimpse of the time- 7:05 AM. She felt her stomach drop as she dashed towards the bathroom and brushed her teeth and hair with lightening speed, knowing she only had 5 minutes until her carpool arrived for school.
Stumbling out of her house and into the awaiting car with her shoes and socks in one hand, and an apple in the other, Hailey whipped around as she felt the weight on her shoulder suddenly disappear. “Why now?” Hailey thought, as she saw her books splattered along the sidewalk along with her new bag that now had a new broken strap.
Plopping down in the first row, third seat of her first period social studies class, Hailey decided that she wouldn’t let her bad morning effect the rest of her day. “Good morning, class. Today I’m going to start by giving back your tests from last week. Most of you did rather well.” Hailey braced herself- she thought that she did alright on the test, and was hoping for at least a B. Mrs. Jacobs threw a paper onto her desk, and Hailey’s eyes darted towards the red “F” circled at the top. Rolling her eyes, she shoved the paper into her bag and crossed her arms, trying to control her anger.
Hailey shuffled into the locker room after school to get ready for her softball game. While rummaging through the pile of clothes in her locker, she realized she could only find one sock. She began to panic- the game was in 15 minutes and she couldn’t play with one sock. With the locker empty and the surrounding floor a disaster, she searched for her coach, and panted, “I can’t find my other sock! Do you have an extra pair?” The coach shook his head, and shrugged with a remorseful smile. Letting out a long “uuuggghhh,” Hailey knew what that meant. Benched.
Barging through the door of her room, throwing her books onto the chair, and whipping her shoes from her feet to the closet door, Hailey dived onto her bed and laid face down, still and silent. Today couldn’t have been worse, she thought while replaying not only the moment she got her social studies test back, but also when she spilled her lunch onto her new pair of jeans, lost the $20 her mother gave her for a field trip, and unintentionally burped when raising her hand to answer a question during English class. She winced when she thought about how she ungracefully knocked into the senior she’s had a major crush on for months, and pouted when realizing that her first conversation with him started with, “Hey! Watch where you’re going!” and ended with, “Uh, sorry.”
Breathing heavily and remaining still, Hailey let the silence surround her. Suddenly, as if she was drifting off to sleep, her relaxed state was shattered by an alarming noise of a monotonous “BEEP BEEP BEEP.” She sprung out of her bed, and frantically looked around, confused. Glancing at the time on the clock, 7:05 AM, she grabbed at her green sweater in the closet and picked up her shoes as she ran out of her room and out of her house.
PEICE NUMERO UNO
She was standing in the hallway, laughing with her friend who was taking books out of her locker, when an unfamiliar voice was heard. “Hey, can I talk to you for a second?” he said shyly as his face became red. She turned around and saw that it was him: Bobby. He was the new kid in school. His hair swooped across his forehead, a piece falling into his eyes. She didn’t know anything about him other than the one time her math teacher called on him and his voice cracked.
“Hey, yeah,” she said. “What’s up?” Her friends left her.
“I know you don’t know me, at all actually, but I think you’re really pretty, and I wrote you a poem.” Her eyes darted to the ground, and her wide smile grew weaker.
“Oh,” She whispered at a loss for words.
“Yeah, um, I thought that if you weren’t doing anything tonight, or this weekend, that we could hang out, and maybe go see a movie or something.”
“Uh, yeah, um” She tried to smile kindly to hold back her laughter as she saw her friends hysterical laughing from across the hallway.
“I wrote my number on there, so you can text me.” He said, still staring right into her eyes.
“Okay, sounds good,” She said. The girl stood still after Bobby walked away.
She couldn’t believe what just happened, and tried to regain her balance as she heard some snickers throughout the hallway. Shuffling along to class, thoughts were rushing through her mind. The girl stalked into her next class and instantly the whispers started once more. She plopped down in her seat, and pulled out a pen and a sheet of paper, but didn’t even write anything. Her mind was focused not on the forming of ionic bonds that her teacher was droning on about, but about Bobby. I kind of like him, I mean he’s pretty cute…she thought. As she was contemplating about this dilemma, she remembered the poem is quickly stuffed into her pocket in the hallway earlier. She slipped it out, and began to read it.
“Captor of my eye, beholder of my thoughts…” She put the crumpled paper face down on the desk, and tried to hold in the bit of laughter that was struggling to break free. Then again, he is a little creepy… and I’m not sure he has many friends... She slumped in her seat, as her mind wandered into the future of a plethora of “What ifs?”
The bell rang and the students rose, but the confused and anxious girl was the last. She knew she would have to face him sometime. Thoughts whipped around her head as she obliviously walked through the hallways. She thought about what others would think, because she couldn’t bear any more humiliation.
Throughout the rest of her day, she took the routes that she knew would allow her to avoid Bobby. She analyzed every little aspect of him. She realized that at first, he was a cute, nice guy that was a little shy. Now, he was a lonely, desperate guy who wrote creepy poems. After careful thought, and about a thousand opinions from her friends, she decided that she would just nicely turn him down.
Collapsing on the couch after a long, dreadful day, she pulled out her phone, and began to type. “Hey Bobby, u seem relee kewl, but we should just b friends. Thnx 4 the poem, it was rele sweet :D” That should work. It’s a little straight forward, but I don’t want to lead him on.
Whenever they passed in the hallways after that moment, there was an obvious awkwardness between the two, and their eyes would drift to the floor and their smiles fade. They never talked again, all throughout high school, and well into their adult lives.
10 years later, at their high school reunion, the once confused and indecisive girl stood by the door as a successful, confident woman. A moment later, a tall, muscular man walked through the door, and shook hands with someone off to the left, flashing a beaming smile at the crowd before him. Wow, she thought, who is that? She looked around, and walked closer to the man. Something inside her told her to just go over to him and say hello. As she came closer, he turned and smiled once more. Before catching his eyes, she caught his name tag which read, “Bobby.”
Immediately her memories of high school came rushing back, and she glared unbelievingly into his eyes, and thought, “What if?”
“Hey, yeah,” she said. “What’s up?” Her friends left her.
“I know you don’t know me, at all actually, but I think you’re really pretty, and I wrote you a poem.” Her eyes darted to the ground, and her wide smile grew weaker.
“Oh,” She whispered at a loss for words.
“Yeah, um, I thought that if you weren’t doing anything tonight, or this weekend, that we could hang out, and maybe go see a movie or something.”
“Uh, yeah, um” She tried to smile kindly to hold back her laughter as she saw her friends hysterical laughing from across the hallway.
“I wrote my number on there, so you can text me.” He said, still staring right into her eyes.
“Okay, sounds good,” She said. The girl stood still after Bobby walked away.
She couldn’t believe what just happened, and tried to regain her balance as she heard some snickers throughout the hallway. Shuffling along to class, thoughts were rushing through her mind. The girl stalked into her next class and instantly the whispers started once more. She plopped down in her seat, and pulled out a pen and a sheet of paper, but didn’t even write anything. Her mind was focused not on the forming of ionic bonds that her teacher was droning on about, but about Bobby. I kind of like him, I mean he’s pretty cute…she thought. As she was contemplating about this dilemma, she remembered the poem is quickly stuffed into her pocket in the hallway earlier. She slipped it out, and began to read it.
“Captor of my eye, beholder of my thoughts…” She put the crumpled paper face down on the desk, and tried to hold in the bit of laughter that was struggling to break free. Then again, he is a little creepy… and I’m not sure he has many friends... She slumped in her seat, as her mind wandered into the future of a plethora of “What ifs?”
The bell rang and the students rose, but the confused and anxious girl was the last. She knew she would have to face him sometime. Thoughts whipped around her head as she obliviously walked through the hallways. She thought about what others would think, because she couldn’t bear any more humiliation.
Throughout the rest of her day, she took the routes that she knew would allow her to avoid Bobby. She analyzed every little aspect of him. She realized that at first, he was a cute, nice guy that was a little shy. Now, he was a lonely, desperate guy who wrote creepy poems. After careful thought, and about a thousand opinions from her friends, she decided that she would just nicely turn him down.
Collapsing on the couch after a long, dreadful day, she pulled out her phone, and began to type. “Hey Bobby, u seem relee kewl, but we should just b friends. Thnx 4 the poem, it was rele sweet :D” That should work. It’s a little straight forward, but I don’t want to lead him on.
Whenever they passed in the hallways after that moment, there was an obvious awkwardness between the two, and their eyes would drift to the floor and their smiles fade. They never talked again, all throughout high school, and well into their adult lives.
10 years later, at their high school reunion, the once confused and indecisive girl stood by the door as a successful, confident woman. A moment later, a tall, muscular man walked through the door, and shook hands with someone off to the left, flashing a beaming smile at the crowd before him. Wow, she thought, who is that? She looked around, and walked closer to the man. Something inside her told her to just go over to him and say hello. As she came closer, he turned and smiled once more. Before catching his eyes, she caught his name tag which read, “Bobby.”
Immediately her memories of high school came rushing back, and she glared unbelievingly into his eyes, and thought, “What if?”
Tuesday, March 16, 2010
Continuation of the Parrot Story.
As the harsh sound of my cage being handled filled the air, we walked up the pathway to the familiar, creamy white house. The door creaked open as the distinct smell in which I knew all too well smothered my cage. It’s just as I left it, I thought. I was gently handed to the meat packer who threw my cage carelessly across the room and into a dark corner. They disappeared into the kitchen, which was blocked from my view by a wall with many pictures hanging- pictures of me, pictures of us. She hasn’t forgotten, I know she hasn’t. My eyes darted around the room, looking for signs of a permanent guest. Well, there’s two men’s jacket’s on the coat rack, and an ash tray on the dark wood coffee table. She was never a smoker, but I prayed that she started since I’ve been gone.
All I could hear was a muttered conversation between the two, and it was getting louder as it progressed. I strained my ears and shuffled to the front of my cage to listen intently. “I don’t see why you can’t let me have my way, just once!” She said in a tone I recognized immediately- it was her furious voice. I didn’t even have to see, because I knew that along with that shriek, her eyes were wide and her brows firm, just the way they used to be.
“I don’t want chicken tonight!” The meat packer roared in response. I sighed with unbelief and discontent. Are they really fighting about what to have for dinner? The way it sounded, a war was about to begin in that kitchen. She was always patient and passive, and I knew this explosion of anger was the work of the meat packer.
An empty, aching feeling filled my stomach and I couldn’t help but wince as tears slowly fell from my eyes. What has happened? Her nut brown eyes were always full of joy and pure happiness as I remember. The dresses she wore were bright and peppy, matching her bubbly personality. This is not the woman I saw, not at all. She stalked into the living room, and I instantly straightened up as my eyes followed her every move, searching for a familiar sign from the woman I once knew.
All I could hear was a muttered conversation between the two, and it was getting louder as it progressed. I strained my ears and shuffled to the front of my cage to listen intently. “I don’t see why you can’t let me have my way, just once!” She said in a tone I recognized immediately- it was her furious voice. I didn’t even have to see, because I knew that along with that shriek, her eyes were wide and her brows firm, just the way they used to be.
“I don’t want chicken tonight!” The meat packer roared in response. I sighed with unbelief and discontent. Are they really fighting about what to have for dinner? The way it sounded, a war was about to begin in that kitchen. She was always patient and passive, and I knew this explosion of anger was the work of the meat packer.
An empty, aching feeling filled my stomach and I couldn’t help but wince as tears slowly fell from my eyes. What has happened? Her nut brown eyes were always full of joy and pure happiness as I remember. The dresses she wore were bright and peppy, matching her bubbly personality. This is not the woman I saw, not at all. She stalked into the living room, and I instantly straightened up as my eyes followed her every move, searching for a familiar sign from the woman I once knew.
Monday, March 1, 2010
2nd Draft of Short Story #1
Ever since she was small, she put pride and passion into everything she did. From her great grade point average, starting spot on the softball team, and perfecting her NSSYMA song. With all that effort, she just wanted someone to appreciate it. On the way home from school each day, she would casually say, “So, I got an A on my math test.” Her mother would not even turn her head, would not even smile, and would not even care. “Great.” She muttered monotonously.
When she made the game winning catch on the softball field, she gazed into the cheering crowd with an ounce of hope, but knew there would never be a time she saw her parents in the midst of the crowd, huddled on the bleachers. As the game was ended, the crowd ran onto the field, and the parents all fled to their daughters. She was left alone on the pitcher’s mound. All she wanted was to make them proud. She wanted to see her parents faces light up when she showed them her test, or dived for the ball. She wanted them to smile at her with loving eyes, and tell her they love her, and that they are proud of her. She watched others with a deep longing for what they have. She watched the girl sitting next to her at lunch open a brown bag, pull out an apple, and a note saying, “Have a nice day, love, Mom.” She watched the first baseman jump up and down while her parents are cheering frantically from behind the fence. She stared with a look of longing at the girl who played “Tree #2” in the Spring Musical, who, for that entire minute she was onstage, was overwhelmed by the cheering of her parents in the first row of the theater, while she sang her solos and acted out her lines only to receive the applause of “that little girl,” but never the praise of “my little girl.”
As the years went on, her hope didn’t. She was completely aware of the fact that she could create a scheme to get $20 from her mother, but never even just 20 seconds of time with her. It was her sophomore year of high school, and her grades began to fall. “So, I sort of got a D in math...,” she mentioned to her mother while she was filling out paperwork at the dining room table.
“Oh, very good, dear.”
No listen, mom, I have a D in math, and a C in history,” she smiled weakly and shrugged while her mother glanced up at her with impatient eyes.
“Alright, well, just do better next time,” Her mother said in an obvious tone.
“…Right…” she slowly walked away, with a sudden realization- This is not right. Why can’t my mother be like the others? It was great having no curfew, and getting money when I need it, but that doesn’t matter to me anymore. I won’t remember the $70 T-shirt I was able to buy with the money I weaseled from my mother, or the warm summer nights that I could wander the streets for endless hours, but I will remember the feeling of loneliness, and lack of support that has been ongoing. I will always long for the gentle hugs, and the long talks about life that I always hear my friends complaining about. I feel like there is a wall between my mother and me, but she is unwilling to tear it down.
When she made the game winning catch on the softball field, she gazed into the cheering crowd with an ounce of hope, but knew there would never be a time she saw her parents in the midst of the crowd, huddled on the bleachers. As the game was ended, the crowd ran onto the field, and the parents all fled to their daughters. She was left alone on the pitcher’s mound. All she wanted was to make them proud. She wanted to see her parents faces light up when she showed them her test, or dived for the ball. She wanted them to smile at her with loving eyes, and tell her they love her, and that they are proud of her. She watched others with a deep longing for what they have. She watched the girl sitting next to her at lunch open a brown bag, pull out an apple, and a note saying, “Have a nice day, love, Mom.” She watched the first baseman jump up and down while her parents are cheering frantically from behind the fence. She stared with a look of longing at the girl who played “Tree #2” in the Spring Musical, who, for that entire minute she was onstage, was overwhelmed by the cheering of her parents in the first row of the theater, while she sang her solos and acted out her lines only to receive the applause of “that little girl,” but never the praise of “my little girl.”
As the years went on, her hope didn’t. She was completely aware of the fact that she could create a scheme to get $20 from her mother, but never even just 20 seconds of time with her. It was her sophomore year of high school, and her grades began to fall. “So, I sort of got a D in math...,” she mentioned to her mother while she was filling out paperwork at the dining room table.
“Oh, very good, dear.”
No listen, mom, I have a D in math, and a C in history,” she smiled weakly and shrugged while her mother glanced up at her with impatient eyes.
“Alright, well, just do better next time,” Her mother said in an obvious tone.
“…Right…” she slowly walked away, with a sudden realization- This is not right. Why can’t my mother be like the others? It was great having no curfew, and getting money when I need it, but that doesn’t matter to me anymore. I won’t remember the $70 T-shirt I was able to buy with the money I weaseled from my mother, or the warm summer nights that I could wander the streets for endless hours, but I will remember the feeling of loneliness, and lack of support that has been ongoing. I will always long for the gentle hugs, and the long talks about life that I always hear my friends complaining about. I feel like there is a wall between my mother and me, but she is unwilling to tear it down.
Monday, February 22, 2010
SHORT STORY #1
Ever since she was small, she put pride and passion into everything she did- from her great grade point average, to her starting spot on the softball team, to perfecting her NSSYMA song. With all that effort, she just wanted someone to appreciate it. On the way home from school each day, she would casually say, “So, I got an A on my math test.” Her mother would not even turn her head, would not even smile, and would not even care. “Great.” She muttered monotonously. When she made the game winning catch on the softball field, she gazed into the cheering crowd with an ounce of hope, but knew there would never be a time she saw her parents in the midst of the crowd, huddled on the bleachers. As the game was ended, parents fled onto the field and instantly embraced their daughters. She was left alone. All she wanted was to make them proud. She wanted to see her parents faces light up when she showed them her test, or dived for the ball. She wanted them to smile at her with loving eyes, and tell her they loved her, and that they were proud of her. She watched others with a deep longing for what they have. She watched the girl sitting next to her open a brown bag, pull out an apple, with a note saying, “Have a nice day, love Mom.” She watched the first baseman jump up and down while her parents are cheering frantically from behind the fence.
Wednesday, February 3, 2010
INTRODUCTION
HEY THEREEEE :)
My name is Kara, and I love the rush of making the game winning catch on the softball feild. Everyday after a hectic, demanding day at school, I can't wait to bolt outside, down the stairs and past the track onto the feild and simply throw the ball around. Spring is my favorite season because of how much time I can spend outside. During the fall and winter, I spend most Saturday mornings on the High School track, cheering on the football team, screaming my lungs out, and sometimes freezing to death, but I love every second of it.
Between school and all the other stresses I face, I get frusterated easily. Dancing has always been a constant in my life- something that can not only relieve stress, and let me relax, but give me pure enjoyment and happiness. Ever since I saw Fame on Broadway, I knew I always wanted to sing too. Singing is so important to me, and is my favorite way to express myself, and spend my free time.
I wanted to take Creative Writing as an elective because I like to express myself not only through singing or dancing, but through words as well. English has always come easy to me, and I discovered at a young age that I enjoy to read as well as write about what I'm feeling. I hope that I become a better writer, and be able to write more easily after taking this class. I like writing memiors because when something important happens, I have so much to say about it, and can think of the perfect words to describe it. On the other hand, I also an interested in journalism, and writing about events or people that I have no personal connection to. In the future, I would love to be a famous reporter in Italy, with my own talk, like Oprah, but waaay better. I find that writing poems is difficult, but I love to read them, as well as read anything in general.
My favorite books are the Harry Potter Series. I love reading mystery books such as Sherlock Holmes. I would try to read just about anything though, because you can't judge a book by its cover. I also like to read love stories, such as The Notebook, and A Northern Light. I love reading anything because each book brings a new expirience, and each book can teach you something new, or make you think in a different way. I love nothing more than the feeling of being immersed in a good book, that you can't put down until you finish... except maybe Justin Bieber.
xoxo, <3 Always,
Kara :)
My name is Kara, and I love the rush of making the game winning catch on the softball feild. Everyday after a hectic, demanding day at school, I can't wait to bolt outside, down the stairs and past the track onto the feild and simply throw the ball around. Spring is my favorite season because of how much time I can spend outside. During the fall and winter, I spend most Saturday mornings on the High School track, cheering on the football team, screaming my lungs out, and sometimes freezing to death, but I love every second of it.
Between school and all the other stresses I face, I get frusterated easily. Dancing has always been a constant in my life- something that can not only relieve stress, and let me relax, but give me pure enjoyment and happiness. Ever since I saw Fame on Broadway, I knew I always wanted to sing too. Singing is so important to me, and is my favorite way to express myself, and spend my free time.
I wanted to take Creative Writing as an elective because I like to express myself not only through singing or dancing, but through words as well. English has always come easy to me, and I discovered at a young age that I enjoy to read as well as write about what I'm feeling. I hope that I become a better writer, and be able to write more easily after taking this class. I like writing memiors because when something important happens, I have so much to say about it, and can think of the perfect words to describe it. On the other hand, I also an interested in journalism, and writing about events or people that I have no personal connection to. In the future, I would love to be a famous reporter in Italy, with my own talk, like Oprah, but waaay better. I find that writing poems is difficult, but I love to read them, as well as read anything in general.
My favorite books are the Harry Potter Series. I love reading mystery books such as Sherlock Holmes. I would try to read just about anything though, because you can't judge a book by its cover. I also like to read love stories, such as The Notebook, and A Northern Light. I love reading anything because each book brings a new expirience, and each book can teach you something new, or make you think in a different way. I love nothing more than the feeling of being immersed in a good book, that you can't put down until you finish... except maybe Justin Bieber.
xoxo, <3 Always,
Kara :)
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)