Oct 10
poem, audio 4 comments challenge: Fear
Fiona Ella's picture

old


(Editor's note: This is one of the featured pieces in this month's The Voice. Check out the other content: http://thevoice.youngwritersproject.org)

i think a lot about fear
and about death, 
and i've come to the conclusion
that i'm not afraid of death. 
after all, death is nothing. 
and there's no point being afraid of nothing, 
since you can't exactly do anything about it, 
can you? 
no, 
as much as i dislike the idea
of sliding away into oblivion 
and never thinking again, 
that's not the bit that frightens me. 
what frightens me, 
what really frightens me, 
is growing old. 
not arthritis and needing hip replacements, 
although that's sure to be unpleasant, 
and not even just slowly losing my mind. 
no, 
Audio download:
fiona.m4a.mp3
Oct 01
earleyg's picture

Names (Audio Version)

 
What's in a name? Your identity, what ties you to your family, and yourself. For as long as I can remember, I have been dissatisfied with my own name. It's too religious and its adjective, it's just not me. Names are supposed to be defining of you. They should feel good when someone calls your name and they should define you. My name is way too delicate, too dainty for the kind of person I am. I do not want to be seen as someone who is careful and tidy and neat. For as long as I can remember, I have been the neighborhood tomboy, the person who has skydiving on her bucket list and loves zip lining at ArborTrek.
Sep 20

Casual Racism With a Side of Language Based Angst

In an attempt to delete an audio recording that I wasn't satisfied with, I ended up deleting the post as whole thinking it meant deleting the changes I had made previously.  My bad.  This is just a repost, where nothing has changed from the original.  My apologies for causing any confusion.

I was sitting among tiny green blades of grass,
listening to a chaotic symphony
of loudspeakers
and bubbling voices.

I was sitting under a rosy sky
with golden light,
carefully separating the fluffy cotton clouds.

My twisted fingers picked at the green
and tore it apart,
watching its string split
and fall under my harsh grip.

I heard you.
I heard you speak in your best worst English.
I heard you.

I was right there.
I was right there when I heard you speak in your best worst Egnlish.
I was right there.

I know you didn't think much at the time

Sep 16

Toad in a Hole

The toad was in a hole.

"Why are you in a hole?" asked the spider-man.

"I am in a hole because I want to be in a hole," responded the toad.

"Oh," said the spider-man. "That's cool."

"It is," said the toad. "But I have a question for you."

The spider-man smiled.

"Why am I an egg?" asked the toad.

"Well," said the spider-man, "I am not sure. I think it is because your parents named you an egg."

"Hmm," said the toad. "I think you must be right. ... What did your parents name you?"

"They named me Ezra," said the spider-man.

"Why did they name you Ezra?" asked the toad. "You're not an Ezra."

"I know," said the spider-man. "But you're not an egg."
Sep 14

Nervous about Sound?

Have you tried the audio workshop in YWP Academy? Find it listed under Academy, top right, or click here: Sound Story.

This is DIRT easy. And fun. Give it a go.

g
 
Sep 13
Fiona Ella's picture

made this

Sep 11

Break Through

When I was maybe eight or so
​I had a recurring dream
​That I could push off from the ground,
Break through the restraining layer of gravity
​To swim a few feet above the grass.

The dreams were so concrete
​That when I was pulled from their comfort,
​I would secretly try to jump into flight;
​Soar beyond the smothering fabric.
​Part of me still wants to.

I think this was my imaginitive mind
Trying to leave behind my fear.

When I was little I was extremely shy:
​Hiding-in-a-basket,
Jumping-into-a-grocery-basket-to-aviod-people,
​Terrified-to-order-my-own-food shy.

​I was also (like many people) terrified of the unknown.
​I was petrified of meeting new people,
​Especially if they looked different to those I was used to.
I once hid from someone just because they had long hair
(I feel really bad about that now).

​And if you couldn't tell already
Sep 11

The Art of Fog Catching


I stood at the tip of the dock
looking out over
that salty water.

The fog had come slowly 
that morning,
seeping into the harbor
and quietly covering 
the shore. 

Mussle gathering at noontime 
was raw and wet.
The chilled water numbed my fingers 
until feeling 
no longer pulsed through them 
and blood flowed easily 
from popped blisters,
earned yestrday while chopping wood. 

Later,
when the rain let up a bit
I stood,
arms spread wide
on the rock wall 
holding human from ocean,
and ocean from human; 
determined to keep all stray children 
from wandering, helpless 
into the hands 
of reckless waves. 

I closed my fingers 
that day, 
around a whispy strand 
of fog, 
drifting gently through the breeze
and quickly learned 
the art of fog catching.

You had to stand 
silently; 
Sep 06

apples

the trees in the orchard are more ripe with children
than they are with apples.
fragile branches expose themselves
to be limbs of limber youth,
elbows protruding like gnarls on a tree,
knees scarred like dimpled bark. 
if you aren't too careful
you'll end up snagging a ruby red sneaker
instead of a crisp macintosh. 
you may want to pick apples
but the children want to stand on the bow of a well-crafted ship
and focus their telescope on the boundless horizon,
calling out to sister ships
and firing canons at enemy hulls. 
with every new autumn they are one year older
and soon the ship will begin to deteriorate--
planks rotting, sails fraying--
until the hull appears suspciously like a leafy canopy
and the mast bears an uncanny resemblance to a tree trunk. 
several seasons pass
until the pirates' planks become branches that cannot hold their weight
Audio download:
apples_0_0.m4a.mp3
Sep 04
Fiona Ella's picture

a few more songs

I made these tonight. i'm not totally happy with how they turned out but i didn't put a ton of time into them, so i'm not really surprised. anyways. one of them's just me messing around, the other one's a version of a melody that i made up a while back. 

 
enjoy? 
 
Audio download:
conrad's theme.m4a
Sep 01

Queen of Denial


I blink myself into conciousness most mornings.
It's slow to the point that I don't know it's happening until its effects are irreversible,
like when you start writing on unlined paper
and don't notice that your words are slanting
until it's too late.
And then I'm awake,
in the loosest sense of the word,
and my alarm is a jumble in my ears,
and my body is heavier than it's ever been,
and I play the game where I weigh the pros and cons
of rising to face the world
versuses hitting snooze and rolling over like it revolves around me. 
I've never hit the snooze button.
It doesn't necessarily mean I don't still think I'm the sun.

I know that I'm supposed to get all bent out of shape
when someone announces that I've never actually seen what I look like
(pictures and reflections don't count)
but the thought doesn't scare me the way it's supposed to. 
Audio download:
Queen of Denial.m4a
Aug 27

Daydreaming

It's a
Intrinsic disease
They told me,
A unfortunate byproduct
Of a
Non-lucid mind.
A mind of someone
Who is discontent
With the real world.
Well,
If that's the case,
I don't mind
Being sick.
Because in a world
Scarred by dark roads,
Dark choices;
It's okay
To look up at the sun
And imagine
Happy little fantasies.
 
Aug 27
Fiona Ella's picture

music

tried to upload this yesterday but it was all slow and glitchy and I had to give up. 
anyways. some more music, this collection using more or less the same theme throughout? just experimenting a little. it might be awful. 

these can still count for summer of stories, right? as makeup for the days i missed? 

#sos17
Audio download:
scarlett 3.m4a
Aug 27
Icarus Blackmore's picture

End of Summer Poem

Gold stains the green leaves,
The summer sun whispers goodbye,
As the birds sing their farewells,
And shadows creep over the yard

They beckon forth the days of cold.
Their shapes sinister and strange,
They are reminders of short evenings,
And the mountains of school work I am to face.

I long for summer’s empty warmth,
The unkeepable promise of never ending days,
Only accentuated by the starry night,
With those unreachable dreams of an infinite freedom

From the safety of warm blankets I reach,
Towards those glistening stars in the nights of impossible dreams.
But you can never truly see the stars
Until you stand outside on a cold and bitter night.

So I will throw off the warm comforter of summer and it’s promises,
And step out into the cold starlight.

 
Aug 22
Maisie N's picture

Eclipsed

I spent most of today
Floating up in space
My head in the clouds
My heart in the air
I kissed a solar eclipse
Right on the lips
A secret that only us
And the stars could share
I spent most of tonight
Fighting back my tears
Because after a long day without caring
I'm left with my fears
And I just don't know
How I can live
With the weight of the world
Resting on my shoulders

Because I'm a sunrise dressed as dust
I'm a moth drawn hopelessly to a flame
I'm an iron soul, covered in rust
And I've only got myself to blame
Because you and I used to be us
Back when I used to laugh and dance in the rain
Now I'm afraid to go outside
Because even slight movements bring me pain.

I would fancy myself a great explorer
But now I'm only filled with regret
What didn't I see? What could I have done?
So I take myself back to the night we met

Aug 20

Dear Charlotte

Dear Charlotte,
I heard
we all did and I hope you're okay.
I know you aren't 
you can't be
not after all that's happened.

Dear Charlotte,
I offer my shoulder to cry on
and I'll cry with you,
because this should be over and long past
but I guess equality is eternally fought for.

Dear Charlotte,
please remember that you're one of us
and we stand by you.
We stand by you when men with
fire in their eyes, in their hands, and on their tongues
declare that they want their freedom,
but what they really want is free reign.

Dear Charlotte,
we want the freedom to live
not the freedom to hate.
 
Aug 11
Fiona Ella's picture

music because i can't think of anything else

Aug 09
Fiona Ella's picture

have a song

Aug 04
Fiona Ella's picture

more music 2

Aug 01
Mackenzie 101's picture

The Laughing Man

I walk down the street.
It’s evening,
The sun is still out,
The grass is glowing,
And my face is probably burning.
I slip on my sunglasses and see
The world through a different lense,
Literally.
As I turn the corner I almost run over two girls.
They both have ice cream in their hands,
They both have pigtails,
They both are living life to the fullest,
And they’re both laughing.
As I continue walking,
I watch as a woman with dogs
Starts laughing at the conversation on her phone.
Her laugh gives me hope.
I’m tired at this point and
Decide it’s time for a little rest.
I find a bench and sit down next to an old man,
He’s reading the newspaper.
So I pull out my phone to
Check for missed messages when all of the
Sudden, the man bursts into a bubble of laughter.
So I laugh too,
You only live once right?
I’ve got nothing to lose in the moment,