Showing posts with label Muse Attack. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Muse Attack. Show all posts

Sunday, April 29, 2007

Wings

Sometimes life is just too real
Those nothing's going right days
It's like there's just too much to feel
And I dream that I could fly away

Fly to a place where troubles cannot find me
Fly to a time when everything was easy
Fly to a world beyond this reality
Fly away and simply be

Simplicity is a thing of the past
The pressures of adulthood are intense
Life changes come at you so fast
And you need to look beyond the fence

Fly to your childhood days of pretend
Fly your heart to memories that mend
Fly to the arms of a trusted friend
Fly until your soul transcends

***

I have never (nor will I ever) claimed to be a great poet. This was just a stream of consciousness writing exercise. Trying to get the creative juices flowing again.

Check out Sunday Scribblings for more on the topic of "Wings."

Sunday, April 01, 2007

Deepest Darkest

In the deepest, darkest corner of my mind
There are secrets
Cravings
Fears

In the deepest, darkest corner of my mind
Thoughts would bring
The strongest men
To tears

In the deepest, darkest corner of my mind
I still relive
The past
And all its pain

In the deepest, darkest corner of my mind
I brace myself
To live
Through it again

In the deepest, darkest corner of my mind
I wonder
What is
Wrong with me

In the deepest, darkest corner of my mind
I'm sure
That everyone
Can see

In the deepest darkest corner of my mind

Sunday, February 04, 2007

Sunday Scribblings: Goodbye

She takes another handful of books from the shelf and fills another box. Looking around, she remembers how, not too long ago she was putting that shelf together - one of the first pieces of furniture that was moved into this apartment. She remembers friends gained and friends lost. Major life changes to which these four walls bore witness. Few places have felt as much like home to her as this one. As she tapes the last box of books closed she looks around the room again. So much more to pack than what was unpacked years before. The stuff acquired through the course of living. At least moving gives her the motivation to release some of the clutter. The garage now only houses the boxes and furniture that will be loaded into the moving truck. Those bags of clothes that waited years to be donated to Goodwill have finally found there way to the car, accompanied by several other articles of clothing that have finally migrated from the back of the closet. The broken furniture waiting for access to a truck has finally been relocated to the city dump. The apartment is being slowly emptied of all but the bare necessities as moving day approaches. The walls are void. The kitchen cabinets cleared of everything. Disposable plates and cups will suffice for the remainder of the week. She looks around again, seeing not the bare apartment before her, but the ghosts of the past. All that has transpired in this place. The joy and laughter; the pain and tears.

Every beginning has its end. And every end is merely the doorway to a new beginning. And in the grand scheme of things, does it really matter all that much the dwelling that you call home?

Sunday, October 29, 2006

Sunday Scribbling - Bedtime Story

In the tradition of countless parents who notoriously skip pages while reading their young children bedtime stories, this story may be missing a few essential elements.

Once upon a time, there was a beautiful queen and a handsome king who wanted above all else, a daughter. After years of hoping and praying and wishing and dreaming, a gypsy woman from a small village in their kingdom came to visit the castle. She revealed to the king and queen that she had the power to grant them their heart's desire, but she would only do so if the royal couple would grant her a place in their castle as their royal nanny. It seemed a reasonable trade to the king, and the queen did so very much want a baby to love And so they agreed, and a beautiful baby girl was born to them.

One night, when the princess was still a very small child, the gypsy woman took the princess into a garden at the edge of the castle grounds. There, the gypsy put a curse upon the inhabitants of the castle, casting them all into a deep slumber. She took the smal princess back to her gypsy village and raised her as her own child.

[Oh, she's starting to doze off already! Skip to the end!]

It was love at first sight. The prince took the gypsy girl his his arms and held her tight as he kissed her tenderly. Suddenly, everything came rushing back to her memory. She was not a gypsy at all! She was a princess, and her parents had been cursed by her gypsy nanny! She rushed back to the castle that was her home so long ago. The king and queen had been awakened! The prince's kiss had broken the curse! A messenger arrived at the castle the next day to inform the royal family of a small village that had been destroyed by fire during the night - at exactly the same time the curse had been broken. With the gypsy threat terminated, the royal family was safe at last. The prince and princess were married, and they all lived happily ever after. The end.

Sunday, October 15, 2006

Sunday Scribblings - Super Power Grab Bag


It is another average day in the life of another average person. You are going along your way, minding your own business, when it happens. Time stops. Everything around you seems frozen. The silence is overwhelming.

Suddenly, you see movement out of the corner of your eye. You turn, and standing beside you is a small child. She couldn't possibly be any older than 4. Her blonde hair falls in tight curls around her cherubic face, and her eyes are the deepest blue you have ever seen. In her hands, she holds a small black velvet sack tied closed with a golden cord. She removes the cord and holds the sack up to you as she whispers, "you can only choose one."

"One what?"

"One power, of course. This sack contains every power under the sun. Time will remain frozen until you have made your decision, so take all the time you need."

Every power under the sun...and you can take your pick. Slowly, you sit down on the sidewalk, mind racing. The child places the sack in your lap and sits next to you. "Go ahead," she says. "I'll be right here in case you have any questions."

You slowly open the sack and look inside. Hundreds of small white discs lay waiting. You reach into the sack and pull one out - it looks and feels just like an ordinary poker chip. For one short moment, you think this is some kind of a prank. But as you hold the disc in your hand, golden letters begin to form in the center. You watch as the word FLIGHT appears on the disc. You suddenly realize that you are literally holding the power to fly in the palm of your hand! Intrigued, you lower that disc to your lap, mentally listing it as a maybe. You reach in the sack and take another. TELEKINESIS. That would be interesting. INVISIBILITY. Definitely has potential. ELASTICITY. SUPER-SPEED. FREEZING BREATH, ACCELERATED HEALING, GOLDEN TOUCH, POWER ABSORPTION, METAL SKIN, X-RAY VISION, TRANSMOGRIFICATION, WEATHER MANIPULATION, FORCE FIELDS, ENERGY MANIPULATION, REALITY WARPING, TIME MANIPULATION, TELEPORTATION, ASTRAL PROJECTION, TELEPATHY, MIND CONTROL, DUPLICATION, IMMORTALITY.

Suddenly, a line from a movie you once saw afixes itself to your consciousness - "With great power comes great responsibility." The excitement you felt just a moment ago fades as you soberly close the sack. You wonder, "do I have the strength of character to use ANY of these powers wisely?" The girl stands up and puts her hand on your shoulder as she whispers, "you would not have been chosen if you did not already posess the ability to shoulder the responsibility. But if you feel you are not ready, there is also a disc in the bag that reads NO THANK YOU. You may choose to not choose. You will return to your normal life and I will erase your memory of this encounter. You must be aware, however, that I cannot return to you again. This is the only such opportunity you will be given."

After much self-reflection, you open the sack again. Reaching inside, you retrieve a single white disc and close the sack. You stand and hold the sack out to the girl. She smiles as she ties the golden cord around the sack and takes it in her arms. "What did you decide?" she asks.

You open your hand and hold the disc out for her to see. NO THANK YOU. Her smile becomes even bigger as she says "That is the disc He had hoped you would choose."

"He? He who?"

And in a blink of an eye, the child is gone. Everything around you returns to life. The noise is deafening.

You have the strangest feeling that something profound and life-changing has happened to you today, but you can't for the life of you think of what it could have been. In your hand is a plain white poker chip, and you can't recall how it got there. You shake your head to clear your thoughts and continue on your way.

_________________________________

Well, that's my attempt at fiction today. Now to really answer the question - if I could chose one super power from the grab bag (and to not choose is not an option), I think I'd go with telekinesis.

Tuesday, October 10, 2006

a blast from the past

Somewhere in the madness that is my mind, it seemed like a phenomenal idea to rearrange the bedroom when I got off work early today...yeah. 2 hours later my husband comes home to find me standing in the middle of what looks like ground zero with the most bewildered look on my face. Anyway, among the rubble I found a folder with a bunch of junk from high school in it - my feeble attempts at dark and brooding poetry, my ACT and PSAT scores, photocopies of sheet music for solos and small ensembles I sang with for district competitions, and a few Escher-esque tesselations with truly masterful titles, such as "Bird Doo on the Windshield."

Long story short (I know, too late), I read through my poems and actually found one worthy of unearthing. Untitled, but for some reason I felt compelled to date it, so I know for sure I wrote it just before my 17th birthday. Wow - nearly 9 years later, here it is.

Don't get too comfortable
He's bound to leave
Don't get attached
He's gonna deceive
Watch out for yourself
No one else will
Don't trust anyone
Because trust can kill
Don't say you love him
You'll only get hurt
You're playing with fire
And you're bound to be burnt

Sunday, October 01, 2006

Skin

I've decided to give the creative writer inside some regular exercise. The muse has not been attacking often. As I searched for sites that offered writing prompts for bloggers, I came across Sunday Scribblings. And so, I have commited myself to the challenge of stimulating my creativity on a weekly basis.

This week's prompt is skin. I started brainstorming...being thick-skinned ... something getting under your skin ... beauty being skin-deep ... skin being the outer layer of ourselves ...

I've decided to try my hand at an acrostic poem.

Soft, tender, the outermost me
Keeping me bound together
Image reflected in the mirror
Never revealing the me within

Monday, July 31, 2006

Poetry?

Remember MadLibs? Those little books with fill-in-the-blank stories? Where you weren't supposed to read ahead - just list a bunch of words and then stick them into the story? Yeah, those.

Sometimes I wonder how many people who consider themselves to be poets are really just MadLib-ing. Some poems seem like incoherent strings of words that have no business being anywhere near each other.
--------------------------------------------------------------
Staplers, ecstatic, protesting on the edges of ecstasy.
Greasy shyness bathing in the dexterity of the skerry.
Cliffs of frustrated desperation, lakes of offended hunger.
I'd gurgle with death, but I've lost all stamina.
Embarrassing, happy, I plummet and rub my arrogance,
But a century of virility washes all.

I trudge. I bathe. I cry.
The clean popsicles of jealousy grope my dreams.
All is hungry.
--------------------------------------------------------------

Was that a MadLib? Or was that a real poem I found online? You decide.

Sunday, July 09, 2006

In A Word...

This is a poem I wrote a couple of years ago. The progression of my emotions and projections of the future during a really rough patch in my life:

Denial
Pain
Anger
Pain
Humiliation
Pain
Insecurity
Pain
False Security
Pain
Truth
Pain
Limbo
Pain
Panic
Pain
Love
(Pain?)
Security
(Pain?)

A Short Story

So, I got the most magnificent random question when I was working on my profile, and I had such an amazing answer to it. But those random questions are supposed to be answered in under 150 characters. I mean, please! So here is my response in full.

Question:
The children are waiting! Please tell them the story about the bald frog with the wig:

Once upon a time, there was a frog named Herbert. Herbert was a very melancholy frog, for you see, he was bald. So Herbert went on a grand quest to find a covering for his head that would make him feel better about himself. He tried all manner of hats as he journeyed through Hatlandia, but Herbert just looked silly in every hat he tried. So he travelled on to Wigland. There he found the most magnificent wig made of the finest grasses. He was resplendent! And since the wig was made of grass, he was also well-hidden when he chose to be. Herbert went home wearing his new wig and lived out the rest of his days happily ever after.