Can't You See the Shapes

I can see the shapes
But my hands can't form them right

They're trapped in my mind

Why can’t I see the light?

Dancing and soaring

I forget what's around me

Electric body

Won’t you do what I do?

Come sit in the shade

Let the arid world fly by

Luscious, dark gray shade

Take my hand, come and fly

Can’t you see the shapes

Our fingers form them right

Trapped in our minds

Can’t you see the bright light?

~a poem by Gemaine~

~based on a series of haikus by Hannah~

Comments

To Wed or Not To Wed

When writing, point of view is very important. The main character is the most liked one, so it's important to pick your main character. I've written a short story from 3 different perspectives to show you what I mean. Elizabelle's Point of View: I stood in front of Colton with tears in my eyes. It was time to say "I do." It was time to be pronounced "man and wife." It was time for our first kiss. This was the most important moment of my life and everything was perfect. "If anyone has a reason why these two should not be wed, speak now." I hear Pastor Phillips voice say. I waited for the moment to pass so we could finally be officially married. Then I hear "Please don't do this." I turn suddenly and see everyone staring horrified at a man in the back row. I squint at the man's face, then gasp. It was Kade. Kade and I had been best friends since we were 3 years old. We met on a playground when he helped me up on...

Palaces and Purposes - A Short Story

I wrote this for school when I was almost 16 and I think the fact that I still like it speaks to some degree of quality. I hope you enjoy it, too. It's got a very different feel to my novel, so it was nice to have some variation while writing it. Palaces and Purposes With shallow breaths and bare feet unmoving on the marble floor, I gazed at the dais. What were they? Strange contraptions, some made of wood, with strings running parallel down the middle, across large holes. Others were all of metal and seemed to be twisted into knots. Still others seemed to be nothing more than smooth sticks with evenly placed holes down their lengths. All were relatively small and looked lightweight. What kind of crazy country had I come to that a platform in such a vast, opulent hall, beautiful beyond any of my imaginings, was home to simple wooden chairs and these objects of no conceivable use? All my instincts, trained and honed by months of unnoticed thievery and silent spying, scr...

The Writing Mafia

Search This Blog