Shower power.
Flower chower.
Hmmm...
***
There once was an innocent flower
Who wanted to get more power
So it made these new friends
And tied up loose ends
Until it entered the shower.
***
Okay no.
***
Toast
Open for discussion
Always on the kitchen table
Sitting
There.
Eggs
Getting cold
Great with ketchup or
Sausage.
Bacon
An unhealthy part of your daily breakfast
Covered in
Oil
Nutrition disregarded.
Juice
Under the milk
In the fridge
Cranberry, orange, apple
Energy in a carton.
Breakfast is served.
***
Yay!
Tuesday, November 30, 2010
Saturday, November 20, 2010
Lost
How can you get lost
If you were never found?
How can you swim
When you've already drowned?
How can you breathe
When the air is full of memories
Threatening to choke the life
Out of what you believe?
How can you speak
When the words won't stay?
How can you dream
If you haven't slept in days?
How can you keep going
When your life is full of roadblocks
Hurdles tripping up your feet
To land face first on the ground?
How can you remember
If you've already forgotten?
How can you be kind
When hate is all you've ever gotten?
I'll tell you how.
You can't.
Might as well give up
Until the searchlights start.
---
Makeover time! As you may have noticed, this blog looks a teeny-tiny bit different. Good different, hopefully! I did photoshop the banner myself, and yes, that is me. Or my hand and half my face. Whatever.
Please let me know if you have any more "creative suggestions" related to the look of this blog!
If you were never found?
How can you swim
When you've already drowned?
How can you breathe
When the air is full of memories
Threatening to choke the life
Out of what you believe?
How can you speak
When the words won't stay?
How can you dream
If you haven't slept in days?
How can you keep going
When your life is full of roadblocks
Hurdles tripping up your feet
To land face first on the ground?
How can you remember
If you've already forgotten?
How can you be kind
When hate is all you've ever gotten?
I'll tell you how.
You can't.
Might as well give up
Until the searchlights start.
---
Makeover time! As you may have noticed, this blog looks a teeny-tiny bit different. Good different, hopefully! I did photoshop the banner myself, and yes, that is me. Or my hand and half my face. Whatever.
Please let me know if you have any more "creative suggestions" related to the look of this blog!
Tuesday, November 16, 2010
You Say Goodbye...
...I say hello...
---
Five four nine, one one six two.
She stared at the crumpled piece of paper in her shaky hand, the red ink blurring together on the page and making her mind spin in circles. Somewhere on the platform, somebody sneezed, and there was the soft sound of shuffling as they searched through their pocket for a much-needed tissue.
Five four nine, one one six two.
Clasping the scrap of paper between her fingers, she spun around and stared at the posters on the wall, the one of the city map, the Coca-Cola ad, the informational diagram about STIs. Pulling her wool hat over her ears, she exhaled softly, her breath coming out in a plume of thin smoke, her chest tightening with the very movement.
Five four nine, one one six two.
The overhead loudspeaker boomed something about luggage being left in the east wing, but it wasn't the droning, muffled voice she heard in her head.
Five four nine, one one six two.
"Please!"
"I can't stay. You know I would if I could."
"But I-"
"Look, I'll make this easier on you. We don't have to be friends. We can just talk about the weather every time I come into town."
"I can't-I won't-"
"I'll get out of your way now. Might as well end it off here, right?"
"Please don't-"
"All right, bye then. I'll see you... No, I won't. I'll... Call you? Here, take-"
"You can't do this..."
Five four nine, one one six two.
"Ladies and gentlemen, the five o'clock train has now left the station. I repeat, the five o'clock train has now left the station. Please stand by for further notice about the delay in Belleville..."
Five four nine, one one six two.
She tossed the paper into the wind, and it whipped against the train window as it rushed by. The numbers spun around in her head like flies circling honey, and she closed her eyes, blocking the sight of the darkened platform from her view. She retrieved her phone from her backpack and began to dial.
Five four nine, one one six two.
"Your call has been forwarded to an automatic voice recording. Please leave a message after the beep!"
Five four nine, one one six two.
She hung up.
---
Well, that was depressing.
---
Five four nine, one one six two.
She stared at the crumpled piece of paper in her shaky hand, the red ink blurring together on the page and making her mind spin in circles. Somewhere on the platform, somebody sneezed, and there was the soft sound of shuffling as they searched through their pocket for a much-needed tissue.
Five four nine, one one six two.
Clasping the scrap of paper between her fingers, she spun around and stared at the posters on the wall, the one of the city map, the Coca-Cola ad, the informational diagram about STIs. Pulling her wool hat over her ears, she exhaled softly, her breath coming out in a plume of thin smoke, her chest tightening with the very movement.
Five four nine, one one six two.
The overhead loudspeaker boomed something about luggage being left in the east wing, but it wasn't the droning, muffled voice she heard in her head.
Five four nine, one one six two.
"Please!"
"I can't stay. You know I would if I could."
"But I-"
"Look, I'll make this easier on you. We don't have to be friends. We can just talk about the weather every time I come into town."
"I can't-I won't-"
"I'll get out of your way now. Might as well end it off here, right?"
"Please don't-"
"All right, bye then. I'll see you... No, I won't. I'll... Call you? Here, take-"
"You can't do this..."
Five four nine, one one six two.
"Ladies and gentlemen, the five o'clock train has now left the station. I repeat, the five o'clock train has now left the station. Please stand by for further notice about the delay in Belleville..."
Five four nine, one one six two.
She tossed the paper into the wind, and it whipped against the train window as it rushed by. The numbers spun around in her head like flies circling honey, and she closed her eyes, blocking the sight of the darkened platform from her view. She retrieved her phone from her backpack and began to dial.
Five four nine, one one six two.
"Your call has been forwarded to an automatic voice recording. Please leave a message after the beep!"
Five four nine, one one six two.
She hung up.
---
Well, that was depressing.
Thursday, November 4, 2010
Howard You?
Howard you? Howard me? Howard everyone I see...
You guessed it. This post is about HOMONYMS. I don't quite know why I picked this topic, as I was going into this trying to write a poem about dragons, but now that I've decided and made a clever rhyme, I guess I gotta follow up to it.
Uh...
...Um....
Duuuuuuuuurrrrrr...
Okay, screw it. There is absolutely nothing you can say about homonyms except for the fact that they sound like something they're not. Kind of like Justin Bieber, though I'm unaware if that sex change operation was successful or not, so I can't really judge.
What irritates me about homonyms is when people use the wrong one. Like, geez Louise, it's common sense.
you're =/= your
where =/= wear
Whenever I'm on Facebook or reading a blog post or editing someone's essay I see this all the time: "Your going to where you're hat outside, right? Wear is you're scarf? LOL!" It grates on my last nerve, I'll tell you that, especially because it happens all the time. We are supposed to be matur-er, good individuals, and yet we can't differentiate the meanings of something that is talking about a location and something that is talking about clothing.
It's ridonkulous!
---
An armour of scales
Glinting in the silver sun
Breathing fire on those
Who don't dare to run.
Eyes like stones
Of the highest price
The tail knocks you out
With one clean slice.
And before you know it
Quickly, I'll bet,
You're trapped in darkness
But not dead yet.
For if you can slip past
The dragon's clever eye
You'll be thanking the heavens
'Til the day that you die.
---
I told you so.
You guessed it. This post is about HOMONYMS. I don't quite know why I picked this topic, as I was going into this trying to write a poem about dragons, but now that I've decided and made a clever rhyme, I guess I gotta follow up to it.
Uh...
...Um....
Duuuuuuuuurrrrrr...
Okay, screw it. There is absolutely nothing you can say about homonyms except for the fact that they sound like something they're not. Kind of like Justin Bieber, though I'm unaware if that sex change operation was successful or not, so I can't really judge.
What irritates me about homonyms is when people use the wrong one. Like, geez Louise, it's common sense.
you're =/= your
where =/= wear
Whenever I'm on Facebook or reading a blog post or editing someone's essay I see this all the time: "Your going to where you're hat outside, right? Wear is you're scarf? LOL!" It grates on my last nerve, I'll tell you that, especially because it happens all the time. We are supposed to be matur-er, good individuals, and yet we can't differentiate the meanings of something that is talking about a location and something that is talking about clothing.
It's ridonkulous!
---
An armour of scales
Glinting in the silver sun
Breathing fire on those
Who don't dare to run.
Eyes like stones
Of the highest price
The tail knocks you out
With one clean slice.
And before you know it
Quickly, I'll bet,
You're trapped in darkness
But not dead yet.
For if you can slip past
The dragon's clever eye
You'll be thanking the heavens
'Til the day that you die.
---
I told you so.
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