Aug 13
poem 0 comments challenge: Rules


Of course I can't miss class because my friend is crying! No, studies are important, nothing more.

My skirt must be to my knees. I understand, I should cover up. It might be ninety degrees, but, so what?

Gum is banned! No wonder! It's threatening to other students, but lighters and switchblades are okay, even if no one knows.

I can't cheat on tests, but girls can bring their Juuls on school trips, cigarettes hidden in their bras. 

It's all obscene, isn't it?
Aug 13
poem 0 comments challenge: Titles

My Mother's Bookshelf

Little Stranger,
In the Heart of the Sea.

The Jungle,
The Wayward Bus,
The Timekeeper.

The Orchardist,
Great Expectations,
City of Light.

Hard Times,
The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn.

This Side of Paradise,
Girl with a Pearl Earring,
A Great and Terrible Beauty.

The Pilot's Wife,
The Miniaturist,
The Old Curiosity Shop.

Magnolia City,
East of Eden,
Gatsby's Girl.
Aug 12


Aug 12

Abandoned Robin egg + nest

Aug 12

How to Write a Speech?

maybe we should have another ywp category - questions. this is gonna be in non-fiction for now.

So maybe some of you saw my post a few weeks ago about 'Why is it important to know how to write a story' for my AP Lit/Lang class. 

I wanted to start writing it soon, with class less than a month away (I'm a big procrastinator, I know.)

I have my topic - How to Write a Story.

I think it's important to know how to write them because 'you can pretend to be someone else' - Shannon Turlington (x). Also, for the development of imagination and how the Aboriginals used story to know where they were going (x). If you guys have other points to help me here, that would be great.

I'm also citing interviews that elizamm and aesythe did for me. thank you two so much!
Aug 12

All-American Dinner

Surrounded by family,
that's the best thing, isn't it?

As I place the mountain
of corn-on-the-cob in front of everyone,
Dad starts to serve the venison
he'd marinated and then grilled.

I made mashed potatoes, too
and worried I hadn't made enough.

I was reassured that I,
in fact, did.

Rolling the corn in butter,
we burnt our hands.
Sipping from cups,
we cooled our throats with milk.

We tossed the finished cobs onto
a spare plate
as we reached
for seconds.

There was no more steak,
but Mom had had a filet mignon.

Dad and I were thanked when dinner
was over,
putting our plates and forks and spoons
in the dishwasher.

Then I went for a ride.
I had gone about seven miles
when Mom caught up to me.
We rode together for a while.

I could feel myself burning the calories off

Aug 10
fiction 0 comments challenge: Wings

The Gift

 "I have..wings?" I almost dropped the note, my hands shaking. I did when the door banged open, my little sister standing in the doorway.

"Mila! Come on! I wanna go watch the ravens!" She called out, her stuffed replica of the bird in her arms. 

I sighed. "I know, Genny, I know. Hold on, I'll be ready in a moment." I stood up, leaving the note on my quilts as I did. I stretched my arms above my head as Genny stomped her feet on the ground.

"They're going to go away! Come on!" She tromped down the stairs to where I knew she'd wait for me. 

I slipped on my sweater, ruffling my hair before brushing it. My long brown tresses were then put into a braid, my thin fingers neatly twisting them into the hair tie. The dark jeans I slid on contrasted with the lighter, yellow-striped sweater. The one Grandmama had knit for me before she passed away.

Aug 10

The Sky I See Everyday

The sky I see
looks so familiar
to everyone that
sees it.

It's because it's the same sky
same trees
same sunset
same everything.

There's no difference in the colors.
No difference in the leaves.
But somehow
it changes.

It changes when the grapes grow on the vines,
when the blueberries ripen,
when the monarchs come,
and lay their eggs.

It changes when the snow falls,
when the leaves fall,
when my dog leaps for mosquitos
biting her hide.

It always changes, this sky I see everyday.
Aug 10

I Wish / Fake Wounds / Bells

our dirty faces
are what the sun sees
every morning.

the water we drink
is only enough
for us and us alone.

turning people away
is not something we like
to do.

it breaks my heart

we leave the tents
to see their bodies
already being ravaged.

this world is a harsh one
and only the strong survive.
i wish children weren't the victims.

the metal bars
in front of our faces
make the world seem so small.

we can't see past our noses
in the pitch-black night
nor in the bright day.

the shackles around our wrists
keep us tied to this cold, cold earth
and never let us go.

collars strangle us
leaving bruises
and the feeling of loss.

but are they really there?
or is it us, hiding our faces
unwilling to let others see us?
Aug 10

From Finner

"And the waves that hit his face marked the past
And the furrows on his skin—oh, how time goes fast.."
- Of Monsters and Men, "From Finner"

I met Mariah at a gala some odd years ago.

I remember still having Alexander in the pocket of the suit I was wearing as I talked to other kids there, kids of the wealthy owners of some company or other. It wasn't that I hated to talk, just that I was otherwise isolated from people. I would talk for hours with people I just met.

Mariah was..different.

She wasn't the daughter of a rich noble, no. She'd been invited to the gala because of her talents. 

She tried hard to do well in school. That's what this gala was for - the sponsors of the school she'd be going to, now that she'd be entering high school.

The Ikka Academy, a school that my father had helped to fund. I'd be going there too, come September.