Oct 09
adowning's picture

Ice Fishing


Ice Fishing

By Ayden Clark



With a jacket like a heater

And a helmet on my head

I turn

through the

Woods

crunch crunch crunch

As the wheels break sticks

and I cautiously drive out

onto the lake

Swish Sposh

says slush on the water

Then I park

put my green and black

rod in the holder

And wait

And wait

And wait

Until the drag starts to

Ring Ring Ring

Like a bell

from the fish

pulling

The line

I reel

And reel

And reel

And the dark brown with gold

fish

Flops out of the hole

lands

on

the ice

Splash splash

Flop Flop

Success!

Dinner…

<")))><

 
Dec 03
STEINERM's picture

It's About Time

What is time? Most people will think of a clock when they hear time. Others might think of space. When I hear time I think of how old I am. Time is everywhere, time is in everything. Time is in a wall and how many days that wall has been, time is in your food and how long the food was cooked or made, time is even in you and how old you are. There's a saying that time waits for no man; I think that time is a friend. You grow up with time, time is with you from the beginning with the end. Sometimes time can be a pain that some people can get stressed by- like not having enough time to finish your homework, or not having enough time to get to work. But sometimes people need time-like time away from people, or time to go home and see your family.
Dec 03
poem 2 comments challenge: General
mccaffre1's picture

When the sky falls

When the sky falls

I'll catch it on my shoulders

When the sky falls

It won't weigh me down

When the sky falls

I will raise up my chin and await the clouds to float to the ground

But in reality

I’m not strong enough to hold up the sky up when it falls

In reality

It will crush me till I remain consistent to a pancake

And in reality

The sky probably won’t even fall

But I still like to think that it will be me who saves it if it does

 
Dec 02
ailuro's picture

Make-Up

I smile, my cracked lips stretching wide at my reflection in the mirror. A scarlet sheen glimmers faintly across the fissured, dry surface of my lips. Behind them, my teeth seem to hover uncertainly in the dark crevice of my mouth. The girl in the mirror seems to echo my movements and her large, blue eyes catch mine. A shimmery peacock-blue shadow dusts my eyelids and my lashes flutter about in the air like spider legs. I had thought it would make my eyes look enchanting and mysterious, but now it just feels stupid. My mouth contorts into a frown and the girl’s face grimaces right back at me. Stupid, stupid, little girl. An inexplicable grief settles in my stomach and I reach for the makeup remover wipes on the counter. Tugging one out the plastic container, a medicinal, artificial smell clogs up the bathroom. The wet napkin seems to bleed into my skin as I scrub it across my face.
Dec 01
sophie.d's picture

Quote chain

Each year, I make a chain of quotes to hang in my room for inspiration. Here are excerpts from this year! I found inspiration and quotes from all over the place.
 
Nov 29
When life gives you lemons make lemonade's picture

Would People Listen?


Would People Listen?

They say write about something that makes me angry

They say write about something that makes mad

But if I did,

Would people listen?
Say I tried to make a difference

Tried to make a change

Would people listen?
Say I was debating against a panel.

And had a great argument

Would people listen?
They say write about something that makes me angry

They say right about something that makes me mad

But if I did,

Would people listen?

Would people listen even if I’m a girl?

A woman?

And wanted my full equality?
They say write about something that makes me angry

They say write about something that makes me mad

I did

Will people listen?
 
Nov 29
vermillion's picture

My Musical Paintings

Songs are colors splashing together in my mind, watercolors thrown together in splotches of pure instinct. The melodies are motifs that swirl and curl across the wide canvas of my mind. I will never cease to enjoy the deep velvety blue and shining gold that pirouettes from Beethoven’s symphonies or the rouge coils that spike and twist off the paper from harsh rock lyrics. It is my perfect art: never finished, yet always there. I wish that I could delineate the untainted painting from my head for all to see. I wish that all people could hear the colors as I do and see the songs as I do. Sight and sound are forever blurring into one elegant, always incomplete masterpiece that I will never be able to live without. Songs are colors splashing together in my mind.
Nov 28
poem 1 comment challenge: General
Inky2025's picture

A Peaceful Place

 
“A Peaceful Place”    
 
Away in the wood, there is a place
A peaceful calm place
Where I sit,
I sit and breathe calm cool breaths
Under the crab apple tree

A place I can escape to
When I want quiet

Peace, tranquility
I listen to the birds
And the nature around me

I like its calm stillness
as I breathe in
soft meditational breaths
I go there to calm down, relax and be listened to
By the animals
The world
And eventually my parents
After they calm down as well

My dad knows about it
I know about it
Mother nature knows about it
But no other living soul will know

Unless someone tells
And then I shall go back
to calm down
once more

 
Nov 28

Winter Song

I have never found answers in oceans

I have stood on the edge of the water,
screamed my questions to the world,
pretended not to notice the silence 

There are streets with empty alleyways,
lonely poets at open windows
(worrying about the future of a pebble that falls by itself, 
we're all similar anyway),
broken lightbulbs, 
a quiet child that watches it all fall apart

Do you remember
what it was like when we were young
and could fill our empty together

You would pour hot water on the floor 
and I would come, wipe it from your brow with a jacket cuff,
fall in love with your dust a little more

We had strong feet
dedicated to laughing at empty eyes 
and sneaking quietly into ourselves

Now my feet are only running 
Nov 27
poem 0 comments challenge: Fourth

This Is Not A Story

Hello reader! This is not a story.
 
There are no heroes with powers, or evil witches in towers.
So you can leave. Go. Shoo.
There is nothing here for you.

No damsels telling tales of woe, or knights riding, ladies in tow.
There are no frogs to become princes, or a huge crab that pinces.
No matter how hard ou wish, there will be no magical dish.

The dragons aren't here, no funky boats out on the pier.
You are still here?
Still around?
My, your stubborness does astound.

But there is nothing waiting for you, no secret treasure, not even a shoe.
I am tired, go away.
I wish to rest for the day.

What's that you say?
Do not delay!
For you have got a story to tell.
 
Nov 26

Quarry Queens

We’re running up the hill, shrieking with laughter, going to our safe place, our haven. This peaceful, dangerous place leaving us breathless every time. The beautiful, jagged redstone, covered in chives and red clovers. We check to make sure that our names are still written on the wall, ensuring our rule over this mysterious place. The trees and plants are our people. The loud geese flying south, the golden sun sinking down, and the uneven rock jutting out are all part of what we love about this place. Sometimes, we stay there for hours. We climb up the precarious ledges to the tippy top of the quarry, looking down on our empire. We stand, side by side, feeling the wind in our hair. We are at bliss, feeling like we own the world.

 
Nov 25
zazu's picture

finding

You will find me,
When I notice you,
Leaning against a brick wall,
In denial that the things you hear are true.
I will listen.
You will find me,
Where the ground meets the sky,
To dream of the impossible.
If you could ever understand that. 
You will find me,
When everything you have ever written,
Pools into nothing but the ink from your pen,

And words are nothing,
But rivers at your feet.

And you will know,
That seeing isn't always believing...
Nov 22
Graceful's picture

Perfectly Imperfect Friend

Take me awake into the wind
Hold my hand tight and
Do not leave me behind.
Let’s run away into the fields and
Climb together to the tops of trees.
Let’s go to the loneliest street and make it full of hope,
We live without worries.
Let’s peer into the expected puddles and
And splash them into the unexpected.
We will have each other's backs,
So don’t worry if your branch breaks,
I will be there for you to lean on.
Though I am not perfect, I will try to be,
I will be
Your perfectly imperfect friend.

 
Nov 20

The Lion Inside Of My Stomach

There's a lion inside my stomach.
He's been there for quite a while now.
He growls whenever he's hungry
and sleeps when he is full,
but he's growing older now
and I can't control him like I used to.
He's like a child but worse.
He doesn't know right from wrong.
He doesn't do what I tell him
and he doesn't want to leave.
He's comfortable in there,
all tucked up where he's hidden safe
from the dangers of the outside,
but he's a vicious predator.
He doesn't know that just yet.
He's still too young despite his mane.
I can feel him move sometimes,
curling up or tossing over in his sleep,
but I know he's not really there.
He's not a child that I will ever birth.
He's just a child inside of me
who will never taste the petrichor
or feel the sun on his eyelids
or see the snow drift from the heavens.
He's just a child that awakens
Nov 17
byamt's picture

A Plead For Help

We need to save the earth. "Why?" you ask Think of it this way Your body is a living being. Your body, however, has a parasite. The parasite is consuming you. It is growing larger everyday. It is becoming harder for you to breathe. You can only manage a harsh breath in and a sharp, pained breath out. You have a fever that rages all day and you are pale and cold at night. You have anger from the pain and it builds up. You frequently lash out against those who you love. This is how our precious earth feels - although we don't seem to treat her like she is precious - the earth is a living being. It is becoming hard for the earth to breathe. She breathes in the sunlight but somehow struggles to push it out. She is being consumed by a parasite named, "humans" in the summer she is hot and is always burning and in the winter she is cold and bitter. There is never an in-between moment of that just-right-temperature, she is always hot or cold.
Nov 17
poem 6 comments challenge: General

The Little Things

In our society we’re consumed by the number of likes we receive,
It’s assumed if you don’t have pages, and pages of friends you’re lonely,
But only, this media we call social is anything but,
Driving us further and further away from communication,
Take a break from your phone,
Appreciate the life around you,
Don’t let it slip away,
Don’t let social media control you,
Look at the beautiful trees that surround you,
Listen to the spectacular sounds that are around you,
Appreciate the little things in life,
The most simple of them all,
Maybe someone said “Hi,”
Maybe someone said “Bye,”
Maybe someone held the door,
Maybe someone did more,
Don’t ignore these little things in life,
Because in our society,
We will not be consumed by the number of likes we receive.
Nov 16
Sydney's picture

A Blackberry Pie

Nov 16

Repetitive

Repetitive
That's what my life is
Repetative
When someone picks up the book,
I begin a journey that ends the same way every time
No matter how hard I try to influence it
I'm a puppet on strings
Following the control of my master,
The writer
I was created and put through tests
I was changed and edited until I was fit for the public.
And then I was used,
Over and over
Forced to live the same life again and again,
With no way out
Repetitive
That's what my life is
Repetative
After all,
I'm only a figment of your imagination
Nov 15

Favorite Scents

The air held the aroma of fall scents. The scent of caramel filled one part of the room, while another had the scent of apple cinnamon. Men and women rushed around in the kitchen, sometimes yelling for something. Sounds of pans crashing together, sizzling fryers, boiling pots, and most of all, the chatter of the patrons. Regulars, critics, and newcomers were all welcome to the warm and inviting reds and yellows of the restaurant. You could hear some customers compliment the food, saying that it tasted like their mother had made it. Others were downright picky about every little on their plate. No matter, the warm and sweet scents around the brought a calm and relaxing setting even with all the craziness. The smell of fall is truly wonderful.
 

The Winter trail

Every year when winter comes we gather all our gear
Our boots, and skiis, hats, and gloves will keeps us 
out there long. 
I could stay forever with the snow covered evergreens
and skiing down steep hills
the dares and promises we make to do them 
really gives me the chills
when we head out to the trails in the woods
we ski out to an area, the hills so big and long, 
I couldn't wait to do them, and see who really falls.
The trees are and hills are beautiful here, with the sun
seeping through them like the rainbow in the storm.
 We almost stay here forever, 
with our frozen toes and fingers
but we know to do it tommorrow 
and cross our fingers it snows