Little Yellow House

Posted: October 5, 2016 by notactuallymad in Poetry
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I was born in a little yellow house
That my parents built from love
With a little red door and shutters of white
That shined like the wings of a dove

I grew up there in my little pink room
With glowing stars on the wall
I’d fly to the moon on the backyard swing
I’d race like a horse down the hall

Picking berries in the yard with my small blue pail
Skating with socks on the hardwood floors
Smelling the cookies on our little black stove
Twinkling piano keys through the smooth glass doors

That little yellow house was my castle, my home
And days turned to months into years
An unknowing young girl would soon miss the walls
That held her love, laughter, memories, and tears

One day mom said we were moving away
I did not want to leave. I did not want to roam.
My heart was broken, so I made myself say
This is only a house not a home

When that final day came to leave what I’d known
One last time I stood there seeing ghosts of my past
Racing and skating in familiar rooms
In each aspect of life, there’s a first and a last

The yellow house faded as the wheels turned
I left my childhood there as we drove away
Yet I still smiled, memories saved
And a new chapter began that day

Sometimes I still visit, when I’m all alone
To see the white shutters and grass sprinkled with dew
But I’m thankful for change in all of its forms
Because my new house is not yellow
It’s blue.

The Barn

Posted: October 5, 2016 by penpadsandpals in Poetry, Short Stories
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Going home, the horse stumbles in the winter wind. She is tired, oh so tired. The snow is high, her hooves barely pushing through the hard packed dust.

The girl on her back at first appears to be sleeping soundly. But her body is wracked by tremors, forcing her to move, to stay warm. She is awake, but she does not have the energy to open her eyes.

If the horse could speak, she would comfort her, make her less afraid. She would tell her that they will be safe soon. Soon.

The hours pull the two into the dark of night as they traipse through blowing ice and snow. A barn appears in the distance, a red dot on the horizon, illuminated by the moon. They push towards it. Surely, it is warmer there.

The pair reach the barn, and the horse neighs softly. The girl opens her eyes, and slides off her back. She pushes the barn door open with pink, cold hands.

A strike of a match and some hay later, there is a fire burning before them in an old stone pit. It fills the barn with warmth, the orange light bouncing off the wooden walls.

With trembling fingers, the girl reaches up and tears the pin off her shirt. It is tossed into the fire.

“No one will ever know,” the girl says. She strokes the horse’s mane, watching the yellow Star of David burn. The arms of the star turn black and curl into themselves, and slowly, are reduced to ash.

A bomb goes off in the distance, but they are too tired to care.

My Happy Place

Posted: October 5, 2016 by nataliegrace2017 in Poetry
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I trespass into a land that no one else knows,
where fairies dance and rocks glow,
a waterfall of milk and honey flows
into the stream upon which I row,
I look up to the sky and view the bright sun,
this is the place where I can let my creativity run,
it runs through the mystical woods
as I release inspiration that no one else could,
the shiniest and most beautiful jewels
navigate me to a place with no rules,
this is my happy place where I am without a care,
enter this land only if you dare.

The Process

Posted: October 5, 2016 by faithvictory in Poetry
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I was an idea.

A shadow of inspiration in the seclusion of a mind,

A simple glimpse into another world,

A flicker of imagination in a child’s eye.
I was a thought.

A hidden message they desperately clawed at,

A plot they couldn’t quite grasp,

A story with no beginning or end.
I was a worm hole.

A passage to an alternate universe,

A gateway into a palace,

A key to a broken heart.
I was a book.

A collection of pages covered in ink,

An escape for suffering people,

A treasure on a book shelf.
I am a memory.

A fond thing to recall,

An object to dust every so often,

A secret to pass on to the next generation.

The Masquerade Life

Posted: October 5, 2016 by elizabethrose1415 in Poetry, Short Stories

Life is like a masquerade ball.
Everyday, we choose our mask,
And everyday, we hide our true face underneath.

Our masks, no doubt, vary.
There may be a different one for each day, each event,
But no matter what it looks like,
It contrasts from the identity behind it.

It is a true revelation,
When one musters up the courage,
To lower that deceiving act of camouflage
And reveal their true selves.
It is a true revelation
To finally embrace your quirky self.

Take It All Away

Posted: October 5, 2016 by jessplusjess in Short Stories
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There was a shot in the dark                                                                                                                               I was caught by surprise
There was a hole in my heart
There were tears in your eyes

He knew that he wasn’t the one she wanted anymore. He could see it through the way she moved, dancing around his existence and gently sweeping him away.

Where she once emitted soft pink waves of love and affection had now turned into an ugly distant gray color that choked him, making it hard to breathe. The sweet cotton candy laughter had given way to her snapping or just rolling her eyes at his pathetic attempts to make her smile. He had never felt so weak and trapped by his own love that he had chosen to grow and had let it overcome him. Even as sunny days gave way to a thick, cold fog he continued to feed the flame that was his love for her.

But now his flame came at a price. His body ached and his hands were torn up and burned from tending the dangerous flame. Scars had formed, reopening every time something went wrong again. And things were going wrong more and more often as days went by. Some days she’d only be there right as he woke or when he went to sleep. In the dead of night, at times only meant for owls, he’d listen to her creep up the stairs to their room (though it was becoming more his room as days went on) and sneak into the bed without a word. Those were the times when she thought he was asleep, but reality was he was lying wide awake, the sound of his own heart breaking too loud for him to sleep.

So if you’re gonna go
And leave me in a lonely grave
I won’t let it show
Until you’ve finally flown away

He hid his sadness behind constant gifts and treats made just for her. He knew it was a weak attempt to try and win her back, but a part of him hoped that she’d one day see that she still had his heart. She had had it from the beginning, but she had taken her own back from him. But maybe when she finally saw how much he loved her, she’d give hers back to him so that he could feel alive again. Because right now, all he had was an empty hole where his heart used to be. It was waiting to be filled by the one he loved. He always held onto this hope, even as she became more and more of a stranger to him.

But that hope was soon destroyed when he meet her new friend.

You tear me up when you say
You wanna take it all away, take it all away

His name was Fred. He was well dressed in a button up shirt and black jeans, something that Fred did much better than he could ever do. He watched her as she introduced Fred to him at the house party they had gone to together, something they hadn’t done in months. He watched as her eyes lit up at Fred’s presence, fireworks dancing inside of them. She emitted waves of flowery pink and red as she talked to Fred, completely ignoring him. Her laugh, a sound he hadn’t heard in so long that it was almost foreign, echoed through his skull. She wasn’t laughing because of him; she would probably never laugh because of something he said ever again. She was laughing because of Fred, someone who finally made her happy once again.

Fred was a nice man to him, holding a friendly conversation and actually interested in what he had to say. He couldn’t find it in his heart to be jealous or angry at Fred; it wasn’t his fault that her heart had left is previous owner and chosen him instead. He doubted he could find the energy within him to be angry at all. She had drained him, leaving him numb and helpless. He made small talk with Fred before excusing himself to use the bathroom.

I’m left with nothing to say
With my heart on my sleeve
Making it easy to heart
And even harder to breath

He never made it to the bathroom. Instead, he headed quietly out the door and to their car. Theirs. No, his. It was his car, the car he used, the car he used to take her out on dates with. But that hadn’t happened in so long that it no longer felt like a shared ownership, but rather just his. It was like what most other things in their relationship had become. His car. His room. His sadness. His love.

He didn’t wait for her to come and find him. She’d probably end up going home with Fred anyway, only returning when the night was still and forgotten by those who had fallen asleep. And of course, he’d still be awake, he”d still be thinking with thoughts that were far too loud and far too true.

Tonight, he decided, he wasn’t going home. He wasn’t going through the routine of pretending everything was ok again. Because it wasn’t ok, it was never ok. What had become of them was never ok from the beginning of their fall up until now, when he finally was letting the truth crash down on him. They were beyond repair, and had been this way for far too long.

You were the one and it was enough
To be the one you were dreaming of
You were the one and we called it love
And now you take it all away, take it all away

Instead, he drove out to the country. Away from all the people he barely saw anymore, away from the dead noise of the city that would never satisfy him. Eventually, he pulled to the side of the road and stopped the car. He jumped out of the car then climbed on top of it. There he laid down, letting the noise of the country greet him. Above him, the stars waved at the earth with their small glowing lights. They gave him some sort of comfort and made him feel a little less alone. They were his friends placed millions of years away, singing their quiet song to him.

The weight of everything pressed against the borders of his chest, until it finally burst open. The tears were the painful quiet ones, where his voice failed and his lungs got stuck. Where he wanted to scream but all he could get out were harsh gasps of breath.

His chest was torn open, the emptiness there for all to see. His heart was gone, left with somebody who would never return theirs to him. It bled into the night, ribbons of starry blues and purples twisting and curling as they disappeared into the night.

He loved her; she was the one to him. But he wasn’t enough for her, and he never would be. Who he was would never please her, never make her smile even when things were hard.

She used to dream of him in meadows of love and joy. They held picnics with lollipops and chocolates as they laughed and momentarily forgot the hardships of the world around them. But now she dreamed of another man he couldn’t be in, another meadow he’d never be apart of, and their meadow had turned into dust.

And so there he lay, on the hood of his car, surrounded by the dust of their love. It was there, the remains of his chest bleeding out into the sky, that he finally admitted to truth.

It was over.

You take it all away, take it all away


Lyrics from Take It All Away by Owl City


Posted: September 28, 2016 by grace2018 in Poetry
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I once was told a story
Of castles in the sky.
Of the giants that once lived there,
Where golden geese did fly.
I went to build my own,
But found that clouds were weak.
So instead, I built my castle
In the branches of a tree.
I did not climb to heaven
To construct my palace fair-
Instead I climbed a bright green hill,
And chose the orchard there.
My castle was no fortress,
But safe it would always be,
Nestled in the silence of the old and mighty trees.
The giants’ homes were made of gold,
Of silver, and of stone.
But I decided crimson wood
Made it seem more like a home.
There were no golden eggs there,
But it seemed the summer rays
Would turn most anything to gold
On a warm and sunny day.
There is grandeur in much more
Than just castles in the sky.
I found the woods were perfect for
This quiet realm of mine.
So while I did not plant a bean
And climb a vine so tall,
I found that I could stay on earth,
And still enjoy it all.