- Books, Literature, and Writing
My Poems. My Stories. My Original Ink Thoughts.
The Little Blue Flower
I see darkness, than every little second I see flashes of light off in the distance. The flashes start coming faster and faster. I could see shadows of shapes and figures, but the picture was to foggy like a blurred camera lens. Then just like that I am standing in a field. It’s endless with grass, but the grass is burned as if a fire had just swallowed it up and spit it out. The skies were darkening and depressing with strikes of lighting wrapping around it, as if it was holding the sunlight captive.
Though as I looked around in this dreary and barren place; I spotted something in the middle of the field; it was a sad weathered old tree. Everything, looks as if it had slowly succumb to its last breathe. I started walking carefully towards the tree. Each step I took felt like every ounce of pain in the world had settled in this one spot.
As I get closer, I see a girl. She’s young, but not too young. Her hair is flat with a faded color of brown. She could be consider pretty, if it wasn't for the harsh and enraged features lying on her face. Her hands are clenched so hard you can clearly see the red small indents when letting go. She looks down at the ground, her face filled with pure hatred.
She gets up and starts to walk toward a spot on the ground. Each step she takes you can feel the air static and tense. She stops in front of a piece of burned grass. I can see her arm tense as if she's ready to throw a punch. Everything in that moment slows; I can tell every minute and second her arm moves, but when she gets to the spot she was aiming for she suddenly stops. All thee hate leaves her face; I could see her green eyes clear. She walks back to the tree and sits down as if it's was a simple act, but this time she sits with a smile.
I try to talk, but I can't. Then I realize in this moment, I don't exist. I look back at the spot that made her furious, but I see nothing. But as I look closer under all that burned grass was a simple little blue flower. I can't understand why she could ruin everything else, but not this tiny flower. Then it click this flower was her happiness; all of it was, but for a reason I may never know why, this flower meant everything to her. Then like nothing ever happened it vanishes, and I am left in darkness again.
My Own Mirror
I look in the mirror and I see a girl with blonde hair and eyes as dark and empty as a pool less waterfall staring back at me. I look out the window, as it rains hard and heavy. I close my eyes and all my memories come rushing back to me.
I no longer touch with my hands, but with my ears. I no longer listen with them, but with my mind. Once I close my eyes I am awoken by a world full of dreams and fields full of happiness and love. The face I once knew, my face...
Not the girl people have shifted and crumbled to their satisfaction, but the girl who knew innocence and pure love. But when I open my eyes it's all back running and I left still standing in the same spot, looking out into the heavy rain. Still the girl that has been thrown and shifted my world has vanished....
When you walk into the room I see the light radiant off of you. When you smile I see hope with a million stars, but what I see is not what I know. I step into your arms and I feel the cold. I feel as if I have been swallowed whole in darkness.
You start to change saying things more meaningful and serious. You tell me things are going to change. That its all up to us to hold on to each other. You hold me in your arms and I feel motionless.
I feel the cold closing in on us. We try to push it away with are power of hope, but you are to weak. I see it fading each second and minute. The cold comes closer and I tell you I am sacred. You tell me I am your savior. Then one night of holding to you, you're taken away from me by the shadows of the cold.
If I am your savior like you say then tell me have I done wrong or right to make you warm again?
Days past and nights seem longer, I walk with a heart that is full of insecurity. I am losing hope every day and every minute. I wonder if I'll ever gain what I have lost? I see the look upon their faces the thoughts that run through their minds.
I think what have I done? They deserve the truth no matter how hard it is for me and for you. I've held your secret long enough. Its torn and burned me from the inside out. I can't stand the thought of losing you. You tell me everything is okay no need worry, but if you tell to keep it a secret, I have to wonder if it is okay.
I walk tall as ever, but deep down I am not who I am, I was never. I don't want their sympathy just like you don't, but if losing my hope means losing you I don't know what to do. You are my heart and everything more, each day I see you I hold it in just for your sake. I tell you I am happy and I love you, but I don't like this not at all.
You look fine and happy, but we both no it won't last. Days past and so do nights, you get worst everyday. I can see your pain and your worry. We meet once again, but this time not in the fun circumstances. You sit dying in a bed made just for you. I tell you everything from the fun times to the hidden secrets you never knew.
I can feel my hope vanishing little by little. I know this is the last time I will see you, but that's okay. You ask just for one thing a smile and a hug to go with it. I break like never before. You hold me for hours, then when midnight strikes it gets quiet we both know it is time for your calling hour.
You leave with my hope to, all that's is left is the last words I love you. I known though when times comes I will see you and my hope again and you will make my heart full once more in time....
Your Written Soul
People say that a soul is a thing that makes you human, but why every time we talk about it we always say the things that we like to call flaws. If the soul is so wonderful then why does it make us hurt. We believe the soul gives us few happiness, but the thing is its not are soul... it's us. Are soul is pure like a piece of paper. We just chose what to write on it, everything we do writes a sentence that changes everything.
I Am ?
It is a gentle breeze in the air,
A melody beyond compare
A secret you wish not to share
A lover that has shown no fear
Do you know what is?
Of course not its ours not mine or yours
It travels around the world
brings spirit and courage
but only for a second is it heard
before its light fades in the
Guessed it yet,
dear me you must known!
O well here's the last of my
You see your hearing it, reading it, and imaging it
Its in your everyday life and your soul
Hello there I art to a degree
I am music, words, and most of all I am
A Symphony of Glory
A storm is arising and the sky is growing darker by the minute.
As I lie down on the softness of my bed, I am surrounded by the sound of rain and thunder.
Looking out my window, I am confronted by the dark clouds and rings of lighting and the petals of rain.
As my eyes look upon they are enchanted. I see a symphony playing just for me, a sound that no one can compare.
I watch as they play their endearing song. As they start, the rain makes its mark sounding just like bliss.
The thunder then roaring like a drum of a lovers heart.
Then comes the finale, as a strike of lighting hits just like a courage of a known hero.
But as I look upon all the glory, I am not speechless by the rain or the thunder nor the lighting.
But, what takes my breath away is the light that comes just softly at the right moment to make this hard and scary thing seem, just as if it was sent down from the heavens above to give one night of complete joy and amazement.
Who your favorite classic author?
Life is like a Blank Page
Life is like a blank page, somethings are clear and some are not.
We try to see what our futures hold, but we never find out. Some of use know what to expect, and then again some don't.
But what if it's not that we can't see what our future holds, but that we are scared to know.
Things in the past my have been great, but it just that fact of seeing your lies or goods. Your hope and life in the future so if people say the know what is held in the future.
The question is way should we be scared?
"Out of the Box"
We all have those moments in life when we find ourselves in a knot or sometimes just plain confused. Moments where we only have 30 seconds or less to make a decision, that could potentially ruin every single plan or list you have made to fit your standards, which in most cases are high.
But that’s the thing is we only see what could’ve gone wrong; instead of seeing how it could’ve benefit you in a way that your mind couldn’t really think of ,like an “Out of a Box” situation. I consider the saying “Always see the defect in a road, before it double-crosses on your path” can be consider as a period of reflection more than a warning.
You see I consider a road to be a path that guides me through life, it helps me make decisions and plan my next route per say. But the one thing I hate is when people say “It’s just a bump in the road”.
I mean if I am having a hard time I really don’t need someone to tell that it’s just a bump, when it's not. One bump can lead to another or even a con-caving in the ground!
Once that happens then there is really no use for my road, but that’s not the point. The point is that if I had reflected and seen the trouble ahead of me. I could have taken a different route, that could have potential brought me to an “Out of the Box” scenario.
A small dream, a bigger dream
A small dream can be a delight, but a bigger dream can be my light. My dream is my stage, my music, and my ways. Each day I dream it grows bigger and bigger all around me. It is my personality, my confidence and my reality. Though people say my dream is only what it is. I will always tell them a small dream can be a delight, but a bigger dream is my light, So there it is, I rather have a bigger dream and to be in the light. Instead of a small one and it be just a pure delight.
Tell me this what if I told you...your going to wake up and find your true love. Would you believe me? Or would you say I was full of it. How about if I said that everything you do has a meaning then what? Would you put me down on a snotty remark or would think about what I just said. That's the thing most of us take for granted. You see everything and I mean everything we do has a bigger meaning and yes it might not be now or later or week after, but some where in your life what you may have done three second or a month ago changed your life in a way you couldn't see. So next you do something ask yourself would I want to go for it or would I just sit back and wait... The option is yours! You full fill it in any way you want because you my friend are the player controlling your game....
It all started with a name.
A name given to a girl.
A girl that held extraordinary life and happiness, but just like everything, the girl grew up.
Passed those years where everything was carefree.
To something that demands everything he she knew. She was told to know this and that.
Look like that new version of the Barbie doll. She was told that boys were the new best thing or that red was the new orange.
She was told that she had to find her place. Now, now and now.
That's all she heard, that horrible word and just like that, the name started to fade.
She no longer felt like that name, the name that was given to her.
No--- she felt like a nothing, another person in the crowd of people.
She lost her spark, strive and her determination.
She would look around and wish she could be like her friends she saw. But she never knew she was more than just that.
She lost hope, until she looked in the mirror one day. Where she saw the girl that people wished to tear down.
That girl with a name that loved everything about herself. The one that said now was never her word, and never will be.
Just like that, it started with a name.
I sing a song that all can hear. It calls to them like the smell of the sweet rain after the loudest of storms. It longs for love in the darkest valleys. It calls to me in my greatest needs. It knows my heart and soul, things I want and the ones I choose to not hold. For it is my music, theirs, or even the world's for it sings to all that feel its words.
© 2015 Mary