[x]

Light yearsI dissected your heart today.
It was sloppy, just like you were, and it was having irregular hiccups,
just like you always had. I remember how we used to think they had gone
away and how we would laugh, kept laughing, as if we would never ever
stop, as if that moment was the forever-and-always we had been
hoping for all our lives. But children were mere children and we should
have known that. We should have known that those hiccup laughs were
the ones to fade, the ones that would eventually fly away into the skies
and travel a thousand light years, without saying goodbye.

I dissected your heart today.
I saw that golden [plastic] elep

The StargazerThe boy was trembling in fear, eighteen feet above the ground. After a quick glance down, he knew his fears had been fulfilled. They were here.

He had been sitting there for hours, grateful for every second he could spend away from them. This spot, hidden between the branches of the highest tree in a three mile radius, was perfect for such purposes, although he knew they'd come looking for him, eventually. But he'd always been so certain that they would never actually find him. In his childish naivety he'd always hoped for the best, he'd always hoped for a place he could finally call home. Pressed against the thick stem, mud all over his fac

Even you can't ruin itThere's nothing more beautiful than being on a plane
36,000 feet off the ground...

Life seems simple up here
like it could end any minute now,
just one simple mistake!

It's not really scary,
just gives sort of a rush...
Adrenaline if you must...

Everyone's just waiting to arrive,
not thinking about what surrounds them...

Not thinking about the sky, the clouds, the birds...
just eating and counting how long till you arrive!

YOU KNOW WHAT?
I don't want to arrive anymore!!!!
I want to stay up here, the sky's always blue...
Right here,
I won't think about you
I'll simply forget all about you...

Why me??
Why did you want t

Too cold for angels to flyWith her bare feet she stood in the snow.
Her footsteps led back to a grey building.
She had just walked out of the front door without anyone noticing her.

Her brown curls hung loosely around her white spotted face.
She remembered her mother had told her to comb it, but it wasn't necessary.
Not anymore.

The cold snowflakes brushed her face.
It was very cold outside, almost too cold, but she didn't notice.
Not anymore.

Her fingers felt the soft material of her dress.
The dress was a bit too short for her liking, but she didn't care.
Not anymore.

She looked back once more at the building.
Her family was in there, crying probably

Get Thee Behind MeSatan, are you trying to break me down,
Trying to shatter my spirit as with a rock from the ground,
Difficult it is to build confidence,
And harder to rebuild yet without your interference,
Leave me be, satan, get thee behind me,
I want no part of it, not a taste of your bitter candy,
Before I call upon my LORD, get thee hence,
Before I ask Him to make you pay recompense,
I will not ask again prince of lies,
With you I shall make no compromise!

coatingsdon't drag us along in your poetic Utopia,
these never-to-be dreams of a world— such an immense madness of

myriad syllabic mazes meandering,
metaphors describing your gloomy smirks, your
eureka invention of monotonous masks, and all those other

thousand
you's

[ i kept a list ]

Let Me Take You To AtlantisLet me take you by the hand, hun,
Let me take you to a better place.
Ouch, not so hard!
I'll only tell you where to go.

Take your finger and trace the sky—
That's right; don't forget the stars.
That little one there? That's Silvia.
Do you like the way she sparkles?
Don't tell, but she leads to Atlantis.
How do you get there? Easy!
Close your eyes, but watch her starlight.

Now open them.

A trickle of wind drips down your cheek,
A taste of moonlight—your eyes are full and bright.
This is your lost city; its wonders are yours to keep.

Music flows through the cracks in your senses.
You will never hear anything so beautif

Students NowadaysMost students nowadays are extremely disobedient. They have become more and more rude, and tend to go against laws and rules. Unlike before, students nowadays will never listen to their parents' advice, or respecting their elders, as well their seniors and teachers.

Will these problems among teenagers lead to moral decay in future? I certainly won't go against the fact, because too much has happened in this globalisation era. The scene of students using foul languages, committing crimes, involving themselves in drug abusing, smoking, consuming alcohols and vandalism, becoming snatch thieves, gangsters, or even murderers has became a social i

60 - Rejection: Tears He hadn't cried since the funeral. No, never mind the funeral, he hadn't cried since the day he'd gotten the phone call telling him his parents had been in a car crash. He'd raced home, been driven to the hospital by his aunt, and then been told both parents had suffered fatal injuries and had no chance of survival.
He'd refused to accept that. He'd begged, pleaded, shouted, and even screamed at the doctors to do something – anything. But they couldn't. No one could.
The funeral hadn't made any difference. The impact still hadn't hit him. He felt like all he had to do was make a phone call and his dad would be there on the other end

Creative visualizationImagine this:
A piece of paper.
A used pen.
Fresh air.
Peace in the air.
Birds singing thrilling melodies.
Clouds disappearing.
Sparkles falling from the sky.
Sunshine appearing.
Rainbows covering the sky.
Cookies' smell.
Warm milk.
Pine trees' smell.
Warm blanket.

Add an old idea
And a new one.
Find it within you.

Fireworks later,at night.

Autumn LullabyAngels watching
Your eyelids fluttering
Delicate angel's wings
As the night wind sings.

The hint of autumn's cologne
Combing through your hair
A sleeping guardian that won't stir
Hidden in a devil's lair.

Tones of golden twilight
Pulling you further into night
Drawing you away from dawn
With a lonely siren's song.

Rhythmic waves
Longing your fears away
You'll see them soon enough
The next day.

My dearest, hold me near
Fret not
Show no tear
Sleep, dawn is not yet here.

Leaves eclipsing right from wrong
This lulling fall song
Sleep, my darling,
Sleep.

The angels dare not intervene
This bronzed mid-autumn's dream
With w

Cry outPoets find your presence in the fire and the storm.
They seek you in majesty.
They look at mountains and see the ridges of your thumbprint.
They cry your praise when you paint the autumn.
They throw open their hearts to the sun.
They marvel as the cold kernel stirs to life.

But you are in the bitter days as well,
the afternoons so dull I could weep.
You are the maker of anthills as well as mountains,
and the stately wake of the single crackled leaf.
You drew the colour from the sunset and breathed grey fog.
You kill some seeds, barren rocks that litter the ground and will never grow.

You are in despair as well as in triumph -- per

ForeverBubble castles in the air,
cradling dreams in arms of clouds.
Hiding in a room of yew and snow,
light filtering
through the crystal ceiling
like charmed diamonds
cut from the stomach of the sky
now on loan in my eyes
and at my child-sized fingertips.

honey-tongued forever,
no midnight limitations
on the glowing light
ambulating from my soul
to the page and you...

quiet, now,
tip-toe dances
in a mirror
silver-backed
dusty with time
and subtle spaces
of immortality.

Out At SeaThese waters are believed to hold opportunity.
They're shallow enough for me to see--
Theres something out there, so far nothing for me.
Every fish begging for attention, still I show no interest.
All so eager, and neither ready or afraid to mention--
Their thoughts and every intention.
I step back for a better look,
Only to see no fish worthy of my worm or hook.
I spend my days waiting, like a wise fisherman would.
My mind against my heart debating--
If I would, should, or could.

Bite the BulletThere was this little boy standing on the bench next to me at the bus station, wearing dirty short pants and a sloppy T-shirt, clothes totally unfit for the cold morning ahead of us. He didn't look homeless, but he wasn't far from that either. His skin wasn't muddy yet not entirely clean; he didn't look like he had suffered "street violence" but was however affected by the kind of lifestyle he was living.

His expression was a mix between happiness and sadness, showing a feeling of bittersweet nostalgia. He was staring blankly at the gray road, leaving me uncontrollably curious about his situation. I have never seen someone, who'd

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I Refuse To Say FarewellDear Love,

I'd like to thank you. Thank you for all the good times, and yes, even the bad.

I thank you for the times you made me feel like I was invincible, untouchable even. For the times I was lifted high on your shoulders, out of reach for all the hurt and pain. Granting me a look from above.

Superior to the rest, that's how you made me feel, because you were with me. We were a good team, the both of us, I cannot do anything else than come to that conclusion.

You are even forgiven for those moments when you would cloud my mind and give me that weird and unnameable feeling. When you would occupy my brain in such a way that I could barel

Whispered StoriesSome places are never silent. There always seems to be a whispering going around in an old house.

It's not just the mice running around on the attic, causing a rustling sound by moving fast on their tiny paws. The wind is not the only cause of the left behind curtains' moving. Portraits down the hall seem to be looming over you. Their silent look holding a tone of disdain.
Layers and layers of dust seem to be untouched for years, but who knows? The creaking of the floorboards are the result of thousands footsteps, long forgotten by others but still saved in their hard, wooden memory. How many people stood on that exact same spot you're sta

Sherlock: A Package of Death pt. IThe buzzing in his mind started. He searched through thousands of pictures in his mind. Images, flashes and impressions; he let them all pass in a fraction of a second. He needed to get out of here, that much was clear. But his hunger, no, need for information was not satisfied yet. Answers were what he wanted and answers were what he would get. All he had to do was block that annoying sound of dripping water on the floor of the warehouse in which he was currently held captive.
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Sherlock Holmes was sitting on the sofa staring intently at the space in f

True love lasts a long timeTogether they were walking. No destination in mind, just wandering the streets together.

Their hands were locked. Their fingers were intertwined, as they had been a million times before.
He turned his head to look at her. His eyes saw the familiar person next to him, she was more than just familiar to him.
A soft smile graced her lips. A smile he had seen so many times, but never seemed to lose its beauty.

Together they were walking. No destination in mind, just wandering the streets together.

He looked at her again. To the world she was imperfect, to him she was far from that
He thought about that morning. When he had awoken next to he

As solid as a WilsonAs solid as a Wilson

Gregory House limped away from the remains that once were his motorbike. There were flames and smoke everywhere that made his vision blurry. He tried to get away from the danger. Danger. Hah. Gregory House didn't know what danger was, he thought bitterly to himself. He sighed as he sat down in the grass. When he looked at his motorbike, he wondered how he actually got there. It seemed like ages ago he was pulling pranks on Wilson…

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Submitted: September 5, 2011
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The place stories come from

by ~SketchWriter, Sep 5, 2011, 11:36:00 AM
Literature / Prose / Fiction / General Fiction / Short Stories

'Sometimes people wonder where stories come from. A person can tell a story about something so unbelievable, yet so wonderful that it seems real. That's because it is.

I don't wonder about it, though, because I know where stories come from.
It's a magical place with thousands of enchanting creatures, beautiful plants, trees as high as sky scrapers and heroic people. Whatever you can think of, it exists there.

Every once in a while, people come to witness all of this. They watch the talking trees, dance with the fairies and feel the heat of a dragon's fire. Eventhough there are many people at the same time, you don't walk into them. No matter how long you stay there, you won't meet any other visitors or even know that they're there.

Stories come to us for a reason. It's because we saw something, met someone or did somewhat unusual things that we remember. We remember them and write them down or tell them to others. That's how stories are born.

It's a place I've visited so many times over the years that I've come to know it by heart. I know every little detail but it still doesn't cease to amaze me. Friends I've made are waiting for my return, things I've started are waiting to get finished and places that are expecting to be discovered soon.

One day you'll know your way around there as well as I do, maybe even better. You'll find friends for life, unexpected journeys are waiting for you and there are many things you've got to do while you're there.

But now it's time for bed.'

'No, I want to know about the adventures. Please daddy, please tell me!' My daughter cried out from her bed. I smiled at her and shook my head.
'Go to sleep and experience them yourself. Go talk to the oldest tree in the universe, go teach the fairies how to dance and go tame a dragon of your own. I'd love to hear about it in the morning…'

The place stories come fromby ~SketchWriter

Literature / Prose / Fiction / General Fiction / Short Stories

Heeeyyy,,,

This is something that I wrote because of something my dad and I were talking about... He used to make up stories for me when I was younger, and I asked him where he got them from, his answer wasn't exactly like this but I gave my own twist on it!

So I hope you like it and I'd love to hear what your thoughts are!

PS Special thanks to my amazing friend =capricordestin for reading, editing and improving this piece! Thank you so much for everything!

*hinthint* go check out her gallery people!

Critique by ~ron-brouillette Sep 7, 2011, 11:50:42 AM

This is a very interesting piece to read for many reasons.

Primarily, I am struck by how well the words flow, adding a light sense of gravity to the overall experience of reading, but not holding me to the ground, breaking my back under it's way. There is just enough there to keep me grounded, but just so, in spite of the fantastic elements that lay within.

Generally, I'm not to impressed with pieces that deal with the essence of imagination and creation, as I feel they detract from the overall impact of all stories. Such notions as an imaginationland, though not necessarily present here in such a direct sense, are burned out and overdone. Yet, having said that, there is a certain level of freshness that lays within the folds of these words.

My one detraction would be the book-endings of this piece, turning it into a story being told by a father to his daughter. It strips away from the impact, violently tearing me away from the beauty of the words and ultimately distracting. Without that, I love the philosophical nature of the story, overall.

Still, well done.

What do you think?

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