Aug 28

Summer of Stories

Dear Young Writers Project,

Today is the end of Summer of Stories. The thought echos around my head, swirling and sinking and possibly sloshing, weaving through all of the words I have written and read and loved.
It is so late, in the summer and in the night. School starts in two days and babysitting starts tomorrow at 8 AM. But I will stay up until past midnight, until it is tomorrow and it is not Summer of Stories anymore, if I have to.
I just read through August's Voice for the first time, greedily slurping up old favorites and new ones alike, smiling at all of them. The fact that I have read so many words this summer, created by other young people, real people who aren't dead or famous but SHOULD be (famous, not dead), is much more amazing than I've really considered. The fact that I can still go through and find new words that I haven't yet read, new people whose words I haven't yet been touched by, is staggering. And the fact that so many of those people, new and old, have read my words is liberating.
So then I went back through my blog, waded through it to the beginning of the summer, and read backwards. And as I read, my eyes started to go numb a little. Partly from staring at the computer screen for too long, but partly from the beginnings of tears. Tears of joy. Because every single word I read was my own, they emerged from my mind onto the page all in one summer, and I could hardly believe it. As I read I felt so many of the emotions I described: bliss and nostalgia, fascination and exhaustian, beauty and nostalgia, summer and fall. Beginning and end. I was reminded of how long the summer really was, how many wonderful things it was filled with, and my fears of having wasted it started to ease. Because I did so much, and if nothing else, I did this: I wrote. I did not write every day, not even close. But I stuck it out from beginning to end, the whole way through. At the beginning, I had community points in the 40s. Now I have community points in the 400s. And I did so much more than accumulate numbers, we all did. We wrote and we read and we commented and replied and we shared. And maybe, we changed a little bit for the better. I did.
So you, who is reading my sappy and half-asleep thoughts: thank you. You helped make this magical summer, and fragments of your words will probably surface in my thoughts years from now and I'll smile. And I hope that you, too, feel at least a fraction of my words, the ones you are reading right now.

Love,
Worlds.Within.Words

#summerofstories16
Aug 28

With, Without

I don't think I could part with any of it
For what is around me
Is as much a part of me
As what is inside.

I couldn't part with the sunrise or sunset
With the colors of each blade of grass
Tinted with the air of dusk
Or the glistening snow
Or the lake on a windy day
I couldn't bear not to see
Every 
Single 
Rock
Each word on a page
Or the sky.

I couldn't part with melody and harmony
The clicking of the keyboard
Under my eager fingers
Or the sound of laughter
Or my sister's violin
I couldn't bear not to hear
Every
Single 
Voice
Each note that I play
Or the rain.

I couldn't part with the smell of morning
The taste of fresh peaches
Grass under my feet
A new book's pages
The salt of the ocean
The wind on my skin
Every
Single
Hug
Each meal that I eat
Or campfire smoke.

Aug 28
22donam's picture

Soundless

     The music playing softly in the background, the chirping of birds and frogs,the rush of cars on the highway. One day, they are all gone, the only thing I hear are the vioces inside of my head, the world around me has lost it's sound, o body makes any sense. I tell them they have no sound, the world has no music, they just look at me and open and close their mouths like fish. Everything is still, I can't hear the fire alarm when it rings anymore, can the other students still hear it? I can't wich one of us has lost our sound, me, or the world? I can hear the voices in my head, so this must mean the world has lost it's sound, not me, right? I could hear everything, even the drop of a pin if I tried hard enough. Then that day came, when the world's sound just disappeared, sucked into space, gone forever. How can I bring it back? No one else seems to notice that the sound is gone, so it's up to me I guess, to fix the world. 








Aug 28

Fern

Dear Fern,
I first encountered you when I was twelve, the same age as you. I immediately connected with you. You seemed to only be noticed by your three year old younger brother, and sometimes it seems I am only noticed by my younger cousins. I know what it is to be the one that is looked over, not necessarily in my family, but in life in general. I didn't really have any talents that set me apart. The only thing that did was my compassion, the thing that allowed you to become friends with Ran, and what made Holden come back for you every time.
Aug 28

I should get up

It's approximatly 8:30 in the morning
Scchool starts tomorrow
I should be getting up at 5:30
But I had to stay up until 11 last night
Why?
For reasons I'm not explaining
I can't really believe I have to get up that early tomorrow
I haven't gotten up that early all summer
But it's worth it
For I get to go to school!!

#summerofstories16
 
Aug 27

Senseless

AKA a stream of consciousness teenage angst poem that I'm not really sure why I'm writing because I've been in a great mood today

I am not senseless
But sometimes it feels like I am

I am not blind
But sometimes I stare and I can't seem to see
My eyes just won't stay open
Even while my brain keeps rushing past
At high-speed train pace
I can't close them
Because I'll miss too much

I am not deaf
But sometimes I can't hear the music
For hearing the noise
I can't hear words for hearing voices
Too many voices shouting and whispering
And I can't tell the difference anymore
Because I can't hear either one

I should be able to feel
But sometimes I can only rush past
Sometimes everything is just
Another item on my checklist
Serving no purpose but to be completed
Forgotten
Not thought over or enjoyed

I should be able to feel
Aug 27

What Beauty?

I should not feel ashamed when I look in the mirror.
I have every right to wish I had a different face -
a slimier, more symmetrical, more attractive face.
Yet I feel ashamed for wishing to look different.
People say that I am beautiful the way I am,
but I do not see this beauty everyone claims I have.
I can only see the flaws that scar my worn out face.
I should feel grateful that I am considered, "beautiful."
But instead I can only wish that I looked different.
I am ashamed that I cannot be confidant with my face,
yet when I try, I can only see what I do not have.
And the more I look into the mirror at what I could be,
the more my flaws begin to grow and darken
and the more I realize that I am not beautiful.
I beg my mother to let me buy makeup and dye my hair,
and I plead to my father to let me change my wardrobe,
but they only say, "You're beautiful just the way you are."

Aug 27

The School Year Hasn't Started Yet, And Already I Have A School-Related Complaint to Share

It's occurred to me
that maybe I shouldn't be 
actively dreading 
the beginning of school. 
Which I am. 
I am unquestionably, wholeheartedly, 
ardently dreading the beginning of school. 
School, it seems to me, 
is a place where if you are extremely social 
and love to spend time with people, 
you have a good time. 
But, unfortunately, 
I don't exactly fit that bill. 
Not to mention that last school year was disastrous, 
I ended up never really having a single friend within the school, 
and I was a miserable misfit in my advisory. 
My favorite teacher from last year has now left the team to teach seventh grade, 
which adds to what was already a catastrophe: 
that 
School. Is. Starting
That I'm going to have to deal with those same obnoxious classmates, 
Aug 27

untitled story part twenty-nine

He sat on a tall stool, his fingers floating above the strings, occasionally sweeping over all of them in a glissando. He preferred to think and puzzle over his dilemmas while he played a calm and soothing piece.

A sharp knock on the door interrupted his thoughts.

"Come in," he called although the person had already entered the room, holding a tray with two cups and a teapot on it.

"Too busy with your zither are you?" she said as she set the tray down on a small table.

He let the last note vibrate until it faded away into the air before turning around. "Don't you enjoy the music it can produce Matilda?"

"I'm afraid my ears are not very good which is why I have no interest in music. I think almost anything can sound melodious. But my eyes! Why, I think I would make a fine archer since I could see a young buck leaping through the woods from miles away. What do you think, Basil?"
Aug 27

Last Saturday

Today is the last Saturday 
of summer. 

This is the last Saturday
for a while
that I will not be stuck doing homework,
or catching myself up with things I 
didn't pay attention to 
in class. 

This is the last Saturday
I will not have to worry about 
sleeping in too late
because if I do it will make me 
groggy and sleepy for the rest of the week
to come. 

This is the last Saturday,
the last real Saturday,
until the seasons do their cycle
and we end up with summer 
once again. 

#summerofstories16
 
Aug 27

Where Does Yesterday Go?

Where do the days go?
The past ones...the ones we have lived,
the ones we have experienced and felt things in.

Do they disappear forever? Never to be seen again,
except for the moments in which we remember them?

Are they out there, somewhere...being kept track of?
Being numbered?
Being counted?

Or is it up to us,
to remember them the way we saw them,
here and then gone forever?

#summerofstories16


 
Aug 27

Bottle Drive

The stink of beer
on my hands and jeans
reminds me to ask myself later
if this bottle drive for my soccer team 
is really worth it
or if I'm digging around dirty old bottles 
with spiders in them
for no good reason. 

#summerofstories16
Aug 27

Where did they go!?

Lets tell a poem 
A poem about the girl who always loses things
The girl who can't find them again
Maybe one day she'll lose he mind
Just like she looses everything else
When that day comes, she'll never find it again
Her mind
Gone like the wind
Lets hope that day never comes

#summerofstories16




 
Aug 27

Before the Sunrise

The sun has not
peaked over the horizon
but the sky has lightened
and in the dim light
I go out.

Everything is quiet,
still, calm, peaceful.
A mist hovers
above the grass.
It seems I am
the only one awake.

The only sounds
are my feet, soft
on the wooden porch,
the cricket's song,
and a crow
somewhere in the distance.


#summerofstories16
Aug 26

Waiting for the Call

I've spent all day waiting for the call
From that person who has called about a thousand times
Who we have called a thousand times
It's just a game of cat and mouse
She just can't catch us and we can't catch her
Or maybe it's phone tag
I called you now you call me!
We tried now you call us again!
I don't think we'll reach her or she'll reach us
Anyways, her turn to call
Update: She reached us!

#summerofstories16
 
Aug 26

Getting Attacked

So I was just outside
Running around without my shoes
Playing with the months
Now the months are starting to attack me
What did I do to them!?
I hope I didn't step on one
Maybe their made because I'm trying to catch them
Well, now their trying to catch me!

#summerofstories16
 
Aug 26

Running Wild Without Shoes

Running wild without shoes
The fresh, green grass beneath my toes
The occasional pebble stepped on (not too much pain)
Rolling around capturing those little month things
Getting grass stains on every piece of clothing I can possibly can
The sun beating down upon my face
Little pieces of fuzz flying everywhere
Looking down at my feet
They feel free
They are free
Free of shoes
Free of socks
I wish everyday could be a "running wild without shoes" kind of day

#summerofstories16
 
Aug 26

Friends From Finland

I've been talking to her for about a month
Her telling me about her sister being rude
Comforting her through that time
Showing me picture of the northern lights
"How Beautiful", I tell her
We draw pictures for each other to make us smile
One of my only friends
If only we didn't live on different sides of the world

#summerofstories16
 
Aug 26

Down the drain

A lifetime of trying to be what you wanted to be
Staring at styar
Studying constellations
Going to the planitarium on weekends
Buying a telescope with your own money
To decide you don't want to be an astronomer anyymore
I have found a different occupatio for which I want to become
I'm also not to interested in astronomy anymore
I mean, astronomers are discovering new things everyday,
But I just don't want to do that anymore
At least now I know where the North Star is and which planets show the brightest to Earth
I guess I gained some things from it, but still
All that time and money just got flushed down the drain

#summerofstories16