Sometimes when I look into those
I wonder if this
of all these
Is skewing my perception of
Hi, this is me playing Max Bruch's "Romanze" on viola. The accompanist is Devena Fifield. I'm really happy with how it turned out :)
Sorry, this isn't anything real because somebody_else accidentally used somebody's blog.
The music was too loud, and kind of crappy anyway-
and he agreed to lay in the grass and look at the stars with me,
and he whispered "We're almost there."
Light flitted through pine needles; voices carried from the sidewalk-
and we hastily imagined that we were hidden,
and we found each other's hands in the dark.
The blue-green sparkly polish on my nails started to fade-
and I remembered that time he said he liked that color, Read more »
Of course, you brought it up over facebook message, because when you need to say something that's uncomfortable, your phone just never seems to be working.
"I couldn't help but notice how you've been ignoring me in the hallways, and to be honest, I have no idea why." Read more »
Yeah! A sonnet. Almost. A bunch of the lines have one extra unaccented syllable on the end. I sort of wrote a bunch of these lines individually, then strung them together, moved them around, and added some nonsense rhyming in between them until it [approximately] followed sonnet form.
Uncross your eyes and the stars will align.
There are no starcrossed lovers;
only crosseyed stargazers.
(this is me playing with rhymes and rhythm, and this idea that's been floating through my brain for a while.)
There's a junkyard just outside of town
Where discarded thoughts are buriend underground.
But if you dig around,
you can find out what they say.
Rusty razor-blade conclusions
tell you that love is an illusion
while pretty doily-lace effusions
call it the fusion of two hearts.
A simple looking glass deduces
that love's this great new revolution-
the singular solution Read more »
So, I did this in canon with myself, just to see if I could pull it off, please don't make fun of it, I just made up the syllables as I went along. Note that e's make the ay sound and a's make the ah sound.
Lu la lu
Lu la lo la lu
Lu lie la lu,
Lu la lu,
Lu la lo lie la lu,
Li le lu,
Lu li lie la lu
Music filled the courtyard of the Chanters' Guild. Ayesha glanced around, the small bundle clutched tighter to her chest. She didn't notice the small cloud of silver mist that crept in after her, sliding through the enormous, arched stone gates before they slammed shut. A Chanter hurried outside, wakened by the echoing clang. He looked around for the guest. When he saw the woman, he jumped.
"Ayesha! What are you doing here? You left years ago, at twenty-one." Read more »
As teenagers, we have at least a hundred things on our minds at any given time. It’s about what will be on the history test, what time practice ends today, which party you’re going to this weekend. It’s about sports. It’s about music. It’s about homework. It’s about getting into the right college. It’s about parallel parking. It’s about parallel line theorems. It’s about parallel structure. Read more »
[So I was writing along and then I got distracted by naming my character...] Read more »
Yeah, I know this city like the back of my hand, and you can break me down and build me up (no matter, I know the way) I'm unstoppable, invincible. Try me, storms, mountains, blizzards,
can't stop me here.
B L I N K your eyes and watch me disappear.
Yeah, I'll go away, but I'll be back, cause don't you kon?
I N V I S I B L E people wander through these streets-
I know this city like the back of my hand.
(you can stop worrying about accidentally saying the wrong thing- I know by now that if you choose the words well,
it's mere coincidence.)
In iambic pentameter? two lines.
Then free verse in a column on the left,
(please note, my friend, that when they're rearranged,
the ten "free" lines form ten iambic beats.)
I'm clever, see! I'm writing poetry.
I wrote this poetry for English class- we were supposed to immitate the style of Greek lyric poets. I got a very good grade and the teacher said that I have "a poet's sensibility for moments" (glows&shines)Every time I skip a line, that means I'm totally changing subjects and none of the poemies are related to one another :)
Unbroken but for the light tapping
Of sneakers on the tile floor.
We twirl our pencils,
And bite our nails,
Wondering if we’re ready.
“You may now begin.”
We are, of course, already in line.
Our hands are sweaty,
Leaving grimy fingerprints Read more »
This is ancient stuff, a poem I wrote... eight years ago. I don't think I've written anything so brilliant since.
I Went to a Party
I went to a party and nothing was there,
I went to a party and I don't know where,
I went to a party, no one was awake,
I went to a party, there wasn't a cake.
I went to a party, there was nothing to do,
I went to a party and now I tell you,
The party was boring, the party was dumb,
and I'm finally home, so let's have some fun!
I'm feeling cold and feverish, like my whole body is emitting
waves of coldness all morning, but then he and his sunshiney smile come along and melt away the cold
and fill my stomach with butterflies,
or maybe fireflies,
because I feel like I'm glowing
from the inside out.
Yet again, the silly girl has fallen in love.
Apparently,rose oil would explode like petroleum if you were to light it on fire. My science teacher told me that, and all I could think was "wow, that's really poetic,"
and I wonder if rose oil would smell sweet as it burned,
and I thought about a poem about love and death and burning roses, but of course, the words didn't come. Why don't the words ever come?
This is just to say
that when someone asks you
"What's the magic word?"
isn't a socially acceptable response.
I suppose I'm a bit late for the Just to Say trend, but I like it and have scribbled out a few attempts...
This is just to say
that your party would have been much more fun
had I been invited.
Just to say that I'll miss
more than I'll miss
just to say "I love you,"
on second thought,
this is just to say
I watched from her bedroom window as Jenny wriggled into her sparkling black dress. I saw the glow of girlish excitement on her face as she fastened that strand of perfect white pearls around her neck. I was standing in the rosebushes by the parlor window, facing her while she practiced what she was planning to say to Carl, and when she pressed her lips to the cold glass between us, so did I.
I saw her startle at the sound of his car in the driveway. Saw her twisting a lock of her dark brown hair around her finger as Carl made his way up the front steps, a white lily clutched behind his back. I heard the doorbell, a quiet chime that I'd once known so well.
When she smiled that special little smile and took his hand, it was as thought the gold light and warmth of her house was fading away from me, following her as she clambered into his car. I followed her over to the car, clinging to that golden aura until with the slamming of his car door, it was lost to me. Read more »
So this is just sort of what happens when Somebody is tired and has a pen in hand. I feel like my ideas were really poetic at this point, but that things weren't arranging themselves well enough to consider it poetry. So it's really just a flow of consciousness.
I think movies are the most amazing medium an artist could wish for.
There's every art imaginable involved in a movie.
the music, and all the sounds, really,
the digital art,
the whole pyrotechnic aspect
(which probably fits under "digital a high percentage of the time)
Movies are just amazing.
A movie's ability to sweep you off your feet,
and take you wherever it wants- through so many mediums
Technology is amazing.
It's art, really.
Just as much art as any old-fashioned medium.
It's beautiful what a movie can do.
Earth to somebody!
you're slowly sounding more and more like a hippie. Read more »
This is something I wrote for health class, about a project involving the care of a freakish robot baby. I didn't think it was particularly brilliant, but Snowstars suggested that I post it, so, eh, what the heck. It's very very ME.
This project was completely pointless. I feel like I didn’t get anything out of it, and all it did was frustrate me. It’s also very easy to cheat, and the people who cheated were the ones who did well. There are several reasons that I think this is a pointless project. Read more »
05/04/08 9:38 AM.
Subject: Re:Hello Friend.
It's been in my trash for months.
Below it, columns and columns of her name, over and over,
letters perfectly aligned.
I don't even bother to read them.
One button at the top of the screen offers
sounds good to me.
A window pops up, asking whether I'm sure I want to delete forever,
Telling me I'll never see it again.
I click yes.
So I don't usually look at the older stuff before writing in my notebook, but today I decided to read everything I've written since forever...
On one page I found...
I find myself counting
counting the smiles
counting His words
counting every time His eyes
And the next page, written like a month later...
Its funny how
not so long ago
if I'd ever get over him.
The high school started
suddenly he was
out of sight
out of mind
out of heart.
I tried to scrape away the past with the dull edge of a penny.
It didn't work.
I was bored out of my mind at my mom's engineering summer job, so I dug through some crazy document in the recycling and wrote this (sorry folks) short poem using only words from the random letter. It sounds incredibly metaphorical...
the magician repeats the limit,
It's really amazing
how much faster you go
you think you're just going slow,
then look up from self-pity long enough
to realize you're going nowhere
If only you could go nowhere
then you might have a chance of noticing
before you wind up
aren't always so quiet.
it's easier to hide
stupid, loud music,
is there to crawl under
like a thick blanket
so not even my own thoughts penetrate