Dec 07
H20.hollym's picture

Familiar

The crowd floods the street, 
limited by the buildings that border it.
I let myself be carried with them, 
the thousands of faces that make up the water.
The roar is overwhelming, 
and panic threatens take me.
I stop in my tracks,
refusing to submit to the tide.
The crowd parts around me,
as if I am a stone in a river.
People, each one different from the next.
All unfamiliar faces, unknown waters.
And then I see it,
a familiar face in a sea of unknown.
She appears at the crest of a wave,
and I stare into the eyes of the most familiar face I have ever seen.
And just as quickly as she appears,
she is swept away by the water. 
The crowd pushes from all sides,
demanding I let them sweep me away
and 

let 
go.
I let myself be swept away by the unknown waters,
because no face
will ever be as familar
as my own.
 
Nov 30
poem 0 comments challenge: Home
H20.hollym's picture

Mind Home

If you knew her well enough, you would be able to tell speaking to her, looking at her, watching her,
that you are only seeing half of a person. 
Her person is physically in this world, 
but that is only half of the equation.
The other half is in her mind,
in her thoughts.
Somewhere else,
in a place that no one has acess to,
no one knows. 
And so no one knows that other half of her person.
She bleeds through sometimes,
she gives the real world little glimpses here and there,
of this half of a person that no one knows. 
This part of her is almost like a dog in a dog house
that doesn't come out. 
However if you watch long enough, 
you might catch a glimpse.
But in this case,
the half of her is the dog,
and her mind is the doghouse.




 
Oct 06
H20.hollym's picture

Wrong

We sit there hushed,
Kids frantically whispering.
I don't remember what they said,
But now everyone is listening.

The school cafeteria
Is always filled with sound.
Overflowing with noise,
Roudy and loud.

The lunch aids are chatting,
Casually hanging around,
On the prowl, like always,
But today there is no one to settle down.

I catch some of the whispers,
"ambulance outside," and "attack, we're dead"
But middle school rumors 
Are something you should never let to your head.

But something is in the air,
I feel it deep inside of me, along
With everyone else in this school cafeteria,
A deep tugging dread that something is
Wrong.



 
Sep 19
H20.hollym's picture

Ideas, questions, thoughts, prompts

Story Ideas or just ideas, prompts, questions:
  1. What would the world/united states be like without money?
  2. If somehow books were real, and you got asked to go to Hogwarts, join a faction in divergent, etc. would you do it? Why or why not?
  3. The world is ending in 24 hours. What do you do?
  4. If you could have any superpower, what would it be? Write a story about it.
  5. You have the ability to change one thing about the world, anything.....
  6. I am the oldest kid in my family, and I don't love it. I think most people don't really like where they are: oldest, youngest, middle, only child, 5 brothers, twin, whatever. What are the downsides to your position?
Sep 15
H20.hollym's picture

When Everything Just Adds Up.

Have you ever had that day, or week, when everything just adds up.
It could be soccer tryouts, a math test, and your best friend's mad at you.
Or the mile run in gym class, a big project due, and you have a cold.
Or you have a cavity filling, big cross-country race you don't want to do, and...
I'm pretty sure you get the point.
But it's just that combination of things, that makes you want to stop time right there, and run in the other direction. Okay, not realistic. But you could make yourself sick, or run away from home, but, you're not going to do that, because you're a reasonable person, and you know that just, no. So you go to bed, try to forget about everything, and leave yourself to face everything in morning.
 
Sep 11
H20.hollym's picture

Over and Over

As the rain beats down,
as the thunder booms,
the lightning flashes
over and over and over again.
illuminating the strange girls room,
as if it can't stop
taking pictures of her,
sitting in her bed,
her body
tense,
ready to spring.
her eyes,
deep in thought.
her mouth,
curled in a slight smile.
over and over and over again.

 
Sep 08
H20.hollym's picture

Money

A little while ago, I asked my 7 year-old cousin what he wanted to do when he grew up.
"Be rich." He said.
"Anything else?" I asked him.
"No." he said.
"Be happy?" I asked him.
"Yeah." 
"And how do you plan to do that?"
"Get rich!" He said with a huge grin on his face, like he just solved all of the worlds problems.
And I know, classic little kid right?
But how about my smart, 14 year-old friend. Her dad texted her a list of the top twenty best-paying jobs. The top one was some kind of fancy doctor-whatever, but she seriously considered it, and hates medical stuff! And whats worse, her nice, caring, dad sent it to her, totally serious. Isn't it kind of sad that's what our country has come to?
That money is it. Money is everything. Money trumps happiness, kindness, caring, everything. And I get it. Money is a necessity. No, the necessity. But that's kind of sad, isn't it?
Sep 07
H20.hollym's picture

See

I see the world through my eyes,
a red apple,
blue ocean,
yellow sand,
as does the rest of the human race.
Except,
for color-blind people,
they see the colors wrong,
they say. 
And dogs.
They don't see colors apparently.
And who knows about all other creatures,
from an ant,
to a cat,
to a dolphin.
They probably say that they see everything wrong too.
But how do we know,
that our way of seeing the world,
is right?
Aug 21
H20.hollym's picture

Scars

Scars,
running jaggedly down your back.
Pain that you have suffered.
"It's ugly."
you say.
But I can't see how
they are ugly,
when I look at them.
For those scars, 
those are 
sacrifices,
for people you love,
including me.
So, no,
when I look at your scars,
proof of the pain 
you have suffered
for love.
In my mind,
you possibly thinking
they are ugly,
is a crime.
For those scars,
they
are
beatiful.
 
Aug 17
poem 2 comments challenge: Falling
H20.hollym's picture

Falling to Earth


When darkness falls, 
I glance up,
wishing there was more.
I reach up,
and try to touch the stars.
I rise up,
lifted by my imagination.
I soar up,
up, 
up,
to the stars.
When dawn arises,
I feel a tug on my heart,
as the stars fade,
I fall down,
down,
down,
to earth,
plunging,
as if into a pool,
but into the concrete surface
of a road.
In a deep, dark, hole,
I remain there until dusk
arises 
again.




 

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