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Rosie.

United Kingdom

Trying to make this my motto for life

either do something worth writing or write something worth reading
-Benjamin franklin

I just started a blog! I'd real appreciate if you gave it a look! :)
ramblingsofarandomkid.blogspot.com

Message from Writer

Just a 14 year old girl with way to many half filled notebooks, a low key Harry Potter obsession, a weakness for Disney songs and a leaky fountain pen. When life pulls you down just look at the night sky and see god there.

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Woes of a loveless 14 yr old- part 1

FREE WRITING

Have you ever had a crush? Well duhhhh course you have. Thing is, I haven't. Well no thats a lie. There was this boy called sam who I liked when I was 7. I think I hit him repeatedly with a wooden ruler for about a week before forgeting about him. So I guess you can see why I don't count that one.. 

Now, problem about not having a crush? I'm a 14 year old girl. And anyone who has...

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Rosie. (United Kingdom) published:

Paintings in the sky

FREE WRITING

If I could climb to the top
Of mount everest
Id bring with me a brush 
And paint, in the mist
Id draw smokey pictures in the
Clear morning air,
A pale falcon
A  maiden with bright, opal hair
And upon the crests of the white foaming clouds
run a pack of sky blue hounds
So if far away i seem to gaze
As i walk down concrete roads
Or if in a dream i seem to be just know ...

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Published Work

Woes of a loveless 14 yr old- part 1

Have you ever had a crush? Well duhhhh course you have. Thing is, I haven't. Well no thats a lie. There was this boy called sam who I liked when I was 7. I think I hit him repeatedly with a wooden ruler for about a week before forgeting about him. So I guess you can see why I don't count that one.. 

Now, problem about not having a crush? I'm a 14 year old girl. And anyone who has ever been 14 knows thats the time all the(straight) girls become obsessed with boys and going out becomes more than holdig hands for 5 minutes before running away and all the (straight) boys brag about kissing girls and.. well I'm gonna assume you are over the age of 12 and know what im talking about.

Lets get one thing straight. I am a 14 year old girl. But I am not a teen. Well yes I am a teen but...

Paintings in the sky

If I could climb to the top
Of mount everest
Id bring with me a brush 
And paint, in the mist
Id draw smokey pictures in the
Clear morning air,
A pale falcon
A  maiden with bright, opal hair
And upon the crests of the white foaming clouds
run a pack of sky blue hounds
So if far away i seem to gaze
As i walk down concrete roads
Or if in a dream i seem to be just know
Know i am flying
Soaring

Child Narrator

garden jungle warrior girl

It's a sunny happy day and the grass is specially green and the daisys call out to be picked and dandelions poke there heads out at me. Mummy says dandelions are weeds but I love them anyway, their like little smiley baby suns that have fallen from the sky. I want to make a daisy chain but I can't, I'm a jungle princess warrior see and jungle princess warriors don't make daisy chains. I'm about to be accepted as part of the clan so I haven't got time anyway. But maybe I could use dandiolins in the ceremony... Yes let's. I pluck one big fat shinning dandelion and stick it in the top of the ceremonial hunting bamboo. The bamboos special because it's the same height as me and is the perfect kind of woody colour too. All that's left to do is to bless with tribal water from the water hole tap. I skip down the stairs and turn...

No Pause for Breath

And I am happy

The branches spread above my head and throught them the light falls,
falls like, like paint from a brush in some 5 year olds paw that fligs yellow in a frantic childish atempt to paint the whole world and I stand at the start of this
light dappled avenue as the violets they bow there small little heads by the side of the 
path and the roots of the trees they reach out to me like
the welcoming arms of a long lost friend
and above me in the
sky the clouds are white like cotton wol; a picturesque scene as I step down the path,  and
a blossom branch hangs in my way and I reach out
to pluck a pristine perfect petal of 
white pink gold and I
am 
happy. 

For the Future

Perhaps

Dear inhabitant of 73 emmanuel cresent in 2118
Do the trees still grow thick and green on Emmanuel cresent in the spring? Does the sea still spew up plastic bottles on the grey gold sand on windy October days? Does this house still stand? 
Perhaps you are a builder and found this buried in the I guess now rusty 2018 royal wedding tin I placed it in 100 years ago.
perhaps you are a robot.
prehaps you are a child in a new digital house that still has some remnants of the old one, and perhaps you found the lose stone in the now crumbling wall behind the house, and there you found this letter.
or perhaps humans long ago abandoned this earth they slowly killed with theyre rockets and nuclear and plastic and factories.
perhaps humanity is now spread among the starts and this letter will lay forever unopened.
buried in rubbish that spills in to the grey silent...

Filter

I go to snapchat and flip the camera roind to selfie mode.
I flip aimlessly through the filters
dog ears
cat ears
Dounuts
glasses
tiger print
flowers in my hair
I flip through the filters
but none of them manage to make me look
happy.

25 Words

Letter

She walked slowly with her head down. she carried only her school bag stuffed with clothes and a carefully folded letter sealed with a kiss. 

Poetry and Spoken Word Competition

Map

I dream of a plan
a life mapped out on paper
Ink lines
Drawn with a ruler and marked each hundred yards
and Ill follow a path
To wear a x marks the spot
Ill live in a house
With a white picket fence
And a husband
2 kids
and a dog
and the sun will set and the sun will
rise
and in the weekend I will go on a walk and go to the shops and meet up wih friends a promotion at work and a holiday in spain and a life
mapped
out
but Im not a born cartogripher
and no one has leant me a map
so I guess Ill grab a compass and hope
for the best.

 

Monostitch

A pocketful of monostiches

When I was younger I thought that if I closed the door and shut the curtains the monsters couldn't get in.

I remember sitting in a tree and people walking below me, not once looking up.

Do the stars still shine if there's no one to see them?

I'm breaking inside so I smile.

I wonder what the world would say if I dyed my hair pink and wore socks and crocs?

 

One plus one

I want to be a kid again
I want to see the world as I did,
then
I want to once again be sure
that one

plus one

equals

two

One plus one

I want to be a kid again
I want to see the world as I did
then
I want to once again be certain
that one

plus one

equals

two

Rose tinted snap chat filtered life

Cause your living in utopia 
you've got a lipstick shade for every day of the week
no one stops in the corridor to call you a freak
your best friends got dyed blond hair
your crush asked you out at the summer fair

cause you've got you rose tinted glasses and your
real vans bag
Starbucks and snapchat
Doc Martins with a beanie hat
you got the best friends ever
smile and laugh
cant let that lipstick grin slide cause

your living in utopia
don't let your eyes stray from the lamp light
ignore the shadows cause
you've got your rose tinted glasses on
everything's perfect
got to keep it that way

so don't
let your eyes wander to the girl in the corner
whose bullied everyday
buy your unicorn frappuccino
With strawberry whipped cream
that boy in your maths isn't as okay as he seems
so just ignore the kid whose parents split up
and the girl in 10b whose...

Walking

The school boy Atlas

He walks with his shoulders hunched. He is Atlas, you can see the weight of the world on his back as he edges along the pavement, hugging the wall. I'm not sure what year he's in, but I've noticed him before. The way his hair covers most of his face. The way he's eyes flit back and forth, as if looking for escape. Sometimes I see him in the school corridors. He walks against the tide of bodies. Fights through a one way corridor the wrong way. He's an anomaly. He's something new. Different. But he trys to be invisible. You can see from the way he watches people and the way life continues without him as if he is an outsiders separated by an invisible wall of glass.
he rounds his shoulders and walks his lonely path.
Sometimes I think I'm the only person whose eyes don't just flit past him.

Maybe one day I'll say hello.

Monster Flash Fiction Competition 2018

Monster reflection

I close my eyes. I've got 10, maybe 20 seconds until the car pulls up on at the chipped red railings and I get out.Climbing out the car I fiddle nervously with my bag straps; I'm walking fast down the pavement hugging the wall... I thought today maybe.. but no. I feel him beside me and know I'm not alone. We pass a group of yr7 girls with matching vans bags who are huddled together whispering and laughing. "At you!", his voice is deadly and engulfs me like poisonous gas. "Shut up" I mutter. "Talking to yourself, first sign of madness you know.",he croons as I start walking faster, trying to escape. But he's still there. He always is. Muttering in my ear. Trying to block him out I speed-walk past some sixth formers. "Psst your walking funny." He whispers, "can't you see your walking weird?". I'm almost at form now and then I'll be fine.  When I'm safe in...

Monster Flash Fiction Competition 2018

Monster reflection

"Once upon a time a monster broke into the castle ..."

The children in front of me gasp. 

"It was huge, with big teeth and claws and blue, startlingly blue, eyes..."

"eyes like yours?" 

I glare incredulously at him.

"no. Nothing like mine"

Jenny tugs at my arm.

"Why was it there?"

I wasn't used to interruptions.

"it was... lost. Anyway... the monster had fangs dripping with blood, lethal claws and..."

"What does lethal mean?"

I'm getting into this now so I ignore him and sit back on my heels.

"The monster ran around in a frenzy, scratching the stone walls and knocking the doors down. It threw it self against the wall and tore its own skin with those lethal claws."

Maybe I'm laying it on a bit thick.
Jenny's biting her nails.
Max is fidgeting and Sammy keeps snivelling.
But I'm not gonna stop now.

"Suddenly a prince in shinning armour came. He saw the blood and the...

Friend.

I'll pick up the phone though I just got home and if you'll late for school
ill wait
in the rain coz I can't let my mate
walk alone 
and u know I'll stay awake if u want to talk
coz ik how much u hurt and I'm here to catch u if u fall
and we'll send stupid selifes
all those snapchat face 
filters
and let's go to town and laugh at the
stupid clothes 
and if all I want to do is fall asleep in form 
I'll  let u gush on about ur latest news
and tell me that joke u read
on buzzfeed and we'll 
laugh
and when u pretend everything's okay
and say lol I'm fine 
u know I know ur not
ill tell u to stop being stulid
ill tell you to have a good cry
we'll get through this together 
coz that's what friends 
are for
 

Read these books

I am a keeper 
I will defeat the shadow men
and be a bearer of the rings 

I am a witch 
I will always be One
but sometimes if the weight of water is too much 
I'll remember that petrova survived ballet

Silence is gold fish,
Nova saw the universe
I'm not going to snuggle down in the rabbit out of the top hat 
I'm going to sing my heart song 

Books:
The keepers daughter
The girl of ink and stars 
Lord of the rings
Harry potter series 
One
The weight of water
Ballet shoes
silence is goldfish 
Black light express 
Sophie's world 

 

Love in 13 Words

Taylor Swift love

someone tell me,
is love all taylor swift makes it out to be? 

Empty eyed blue light

Blue light 
empty eyed 
Why do I hide beneath this  shroud 
Never thought 
this red white duvet cover
would become my hiding place 
why 
why
stupid stupid stupid
I should sleep 
put my phone down
mindless meanless words 
why do I scroll and tap 
stupid pointless 
Flicker jitter 
Blue light empty
maybe this is just another type of sleep
Numbing
My mind is mindless 
empty eyed
Rectangle screen
Stupid stupid
Why?
stupid brain I have to sleep

 
 

Intentions and Invocations

This year

This year I want to fly.
I want to fly and soar and dip and dive like those white winged seagulls that play with the surf
That toy with the ocean and ride the wind 
those white winged seagulls that look so free 
they have no cares 
No keep-you-up-at-night anxiety.
this year I want to fly like a seagull.
with out a fear of falling.

this year I want to discover. 
I want to stare the night sky and see mysteries unfold. 
I want to ask and wonder and answer and find 
like those early scientists with silver wigs and dusty books who asked the question why. 
they wanted to know.
they had to know.
this year I want to need-to-know stuff.
And I want to find the answers. 

this year I need to find myself 
like patient hands and tangled-by-kitten wool
Like a pen that crosses out lines in a half-realized poem.
this year I need to find my...

To forget; to disappear

Why should I 
come downstairs today
why should I
why would I
leave this safe little untouched haven of metre white wood sill and wall of drawn curtains blue
why would I 
I've got some books a blank pad and my favorite pen
i got blankets and tea
and a welcomed super power to forget when I'm here
to forget everyhing; to disappear 
so why would I leave 
why would I
ever?

The author in my head

There's a tiny girl inside my head 
The author part of me
She has a bobble hat pulled low over her head and a cup of tea by her side
And she's type type tapping away on one of those old fashioned type writers
She never stops
She never rests
She always there
Inside my head 
Type type tapping away.

She types out every 
Unintentional haiku
Every semi accidental prose
She taps out every
Half realized thought
Every paragraph of description

There's a tiny girl inside my head
And she's always 
Type
Type
Tapping
Away.

winter rose

morning rose
winter rose
iridescent opal pink 
laced with dimond pearl like dew
shakes out her petals
tilts her face towards the sun
and smiles. 

My December Competition 2017

change.

Christmas in Swansea starts way too soon. In late November the first gaudy trees appear in shop windows bedecked with plastic red and silver ten-a-penny baubles. More than a month before christmas itself they turn on the lights in town, shapeless green and red swirls hanging of the lampposts as if hoping to deflect from the litter strewn streets and the smell of Nando's chicken wafting up the street.

In a way I hate it; the endless Christmas catoluges and 'once only' deals, the culture where kids write there Christmases lists in October, but at the same time... I don't know,maybe it's the looks of delight on children's faces, or just the memory's... Of opening my calendar each day  , of wearing reindeer ears and of tasting the 'snow' icing sugar that Santa leaves on the stairs. Or maybe, and I know I'm to old to believe in Santa, but there is something, not magic, not sleigh bells in the...

Ten Words to You

Just a grey town in wales

The quiet streets. Grey town. The sand and constant sea

My December Competition 2017

change.

Christmas in Swansea starts way too soon. In late November the first gaudy trees appear in shop windows bedecked with plastic red and silver ten-a-penny baubles. More than a month before christmas itself they turn on the lights in town, shapeless green and red swirls hanging of the lampposts as if hoping to deflect from the litter strewn streets and the smell of Nando's chicken wafting up the street.

In a way I hate it; the endless Christmas catoluges and 'once only' deals, the culture where kids write there Christmases lists in October, but at the same time... I don't know,maybe it's the looks of delight on children's faces, or just the memory's... Of opening my calendar each day  , of wearing reindeer ears and of tasting the 'snow' icing sugar that Santa leaves on the stairs. Or maybe, and I know I'm to old to believe in Santa, but there is something, not magic, not sleigh bells in the...

Moon L.I.G.H.T chapter one

On the surface of the moon, deep in the bowls of the sea of serenity and only 60 km away from the 10m thick Pyrex dome protecting New London( or 'utopia' as the rebels call it with more that a bit of irony) is the New Sydney opera house.

it is a bizarre sight. The strange structure with its ethereal points like the hulls of many upturned boats surrounded by empty moon-scape. Protected by only a thin temporary done the building seems to shimmer in the airless sky and an abandoned drone stands, a silent sentry at the sealed door.

ZARA HANES
AGE: 15
APPERENCE: tall, short black hair, AIE implant 
OFFENCE: classified 
SENTENCE: exile
authorised: Helix Jarvis

It was beside this door that Zara Hanes found herself, in a too big moon suit and only 12.52 minutes of oxygen left. 

ZARA:
its only now, now that my oxygen monitor has started beeping and my AIE ink plant has decided...

Moon L.I.G.H.T chapter one

On the surface of the moon, deep in the bowls of the sea of serenity and only 60 km away from the 10m thick Pyrex dome protecting New London( or 'utopia' as the rebels call it with more that a bit of irony) is the New Sydney opera house.

it is a bizarre sight. The strange structure with its ethereal points like the hulls of many upturned boats surrounded by empty moon-scape. Protected by only a thin temporary done the building seems to shimmer in the airless sky and an abandoned drone stands, a silent sentry at the sealed door.

ZARA HANES
AGE: 15
APPERENCE: tall, short black hair, AIE implant 
OFFENCE: classified 
SENTENCE: exile
authorised: Helix Jarvis

It was beside this door that Zara Hanes found herself, in a too big moon suit and only 12.52 minutes of oxygen left. 

Novel Writing Competition 2017

Runaway

Lucy 
It is dark. An all consuming dark that seems to cling to everything, the shadowy grey sillouted cars and the undistinguishsble shapes, bushes maybe, that line the street. I was afraid of the dark, when I was younger. I used to have a butterfly nightlight  that I left on all night. They must have smashed that, along  with everything else. I don't need a nightlight now. I'm still scared of the dark though, of the things that hide in it, but now it it is my only protection, my only hope of escaping from Them. There's a single street lamp still on, it's casts a thin puddle of light on the pavement below and I skirt around it, clinging to the shadows, becoming the shadows. I'm  wearing a hoodie, black with the hood pulled up over my head. Even in my fear some small part of me can't help laughing at the cliche; that of a teenaged girl in...

Birdsong

Robin redbreast

Robin tilts her head,
chitters chatters,
blinks one eye,
Robin redbreast,
winter bird,
chitter chatter,
morning song,
curious curious,
glint in one eye,
too     tww    chi    cha 
t to chit chi
robin perches on the lamppost
chitter.
chatter.
too too too.


 

Just a lost kid

There an ache in my chest that won't go away,
and a emptiness inside of me and a lost kid in my brain,
who stands in the corner, 
trys to think of things to say,
theres an ache in my chest,
a cavity in my heart,
and a lost kid in the corner,
just waiting to be found.

Novel Writing Competition 2017

Runaway

Lucy 
It is dark. An all consuming dark that seems to cling to everything, the shadowy grey sillouted cars and the undistinguishsble shapes, bushes maybe, that line the street. I was afraid of the dark. When I was younger. I used to have a butterfly nightlight  that I left on all night. They must have smashed that, along  with everything else. I don't need a nightlight now. I'm still scared of the dark though, of the things that hide in it, but now it it is my only protection, my only hope of escaping from Them. There's a single street lamp still on, it's casts a thin puddle of light on the pavement below and I skirt around it, clinging to the shadows, becoming the shadows. I'm  wearing a hoodie, black with the hood pulled up over my head. Even in my fear some small part of me can't help laughing at the cliche; that of a teenaged girl in...

Novel Writing Competition 2017

Runaway

Lucy 
It is dark. An all consuming dark that seems to cling to everything, the shadowy grey sillouted cars and the undistinguishsble shapes, bushes maybe, that line the street. I was afraid of the dark. When I was younger. I used to have a butterfly nightlight  that I left on all night. They must have smashed that, along  with everything else. I don't need a nightlight now. I'm still scared of the dark though, of the things that hide in it, but now it it is my only protection, my only hope of escaping from Them. There's a single street lamp still on, it's casts a thin puddle of light on the pavement below and I skirt around it, clinging to the shadows, becoming the shadows. I'm  wearing a hoodie, black with the hood pulled up over my head. Even in my fear some small part of me can't help laughing at the cliche; that of a teenaged girl in...

Novel Writing Competition 2017

Runaway

Lucy 
It is dark. An all consuming dark that seems to cling to everything, the shadowy grey sillouted cars and the undistinguishsble shapes, bushes maybe, that line the street. I was afraid of the dark. When I was younger. I used to have a butterfly shaped nightlight  that I made my mum leave on. They must have smashed that, along  with everything else. I don't need a nightlight now. I'm still scared of the dark though, of the things that hide in it, but now it it is my only protection, my only hope of escaping from Them. There's a single street lamp still on, it's casts a thin puddle of light on the pavement below and I skirt around it, clinging to the shadows, becoming the shadows. I'm  wearing a hoodie, black with the hood pulled up over my head. Even in my fear some small part of me can't help laughing at the cliche; that of a teenaged...

On the Last Day of the World

Alone with the world.

I would walk.
walk in to the night.
I would gaze up, up in to the sky.
I would count the stars.
stand in the middle of a forest and listen.
I would want to be alone.
Alone with the world.
Alone with god.
I place both hands against the rough trunk of a tree and trace the groves with my fingers.
I stare into the burning sky.
I watch a bird fly.
up.
up.
then I close my eyes.
and wait.
 

On the Last Day of the World

Alone with the world.

I would walk.
walk in to the night.
I would gaze up, up in to the sky.
I would count the stars.
atand I. The middle of a forest and listen.
I would want to be alone.
Alone with the world.
Alone with god.
I place both hands against the rough trunk of a tree and trace the groves with my fingers.
I stare into the burning sky.
I watch a bird fly.
up.
up.
then I close my eyes.
and wait.
 

Dialogue Dexterity

Unsaid goodbye

She said she'd miss me.
"think of all those good times" 
I nodded, smiled, didn't know how to say goodbye so I delved into the past.
I grinned despite myself, "remember the burrito dance?"
she laughs,
keeps saying it's not over, that we'll see each other in the weekends, the holidays, 
"more fun times to come! You haven't escaped me yet Jenny Parker!",
I try not to cry,
I make her promise to text me, phone me, snapchat me, email me, 
then we do our handshake of 4 years, since yr7,
"4, 3,2,1 carrot potatoe cabbage pax".  

we don't say goodbye.
just walk away

Drowning

I swim I swim
I try to breath
the waters to cold
the sea the sea
a wave of salt
 againwave crashes
again
I can't breath
drowning
drowning
visions a blur
I can't see
the worlds to cold
the water burns
I swim
I swim
I try to breath
a wave crashes over me
sucked back down
I think I hear a boat far of call my name
but the ocean rises a wall of flame
the cold
the cold
to cold
I swim
but the waves keep coming
I swim
I swim
I try to breath
I drown
I drown

"Hey"
theres a hand on my arm
a voice in my ear
"you look dreadfull"
the world is blue 
it swirls
it swirls
i see people
swim
nonwalk
the hand on my arm steers me
theres a fish
no a face
i think it's concerned
im on a hard plastic chair
someone puts a glass in my hand
against...

Why I believe in God

Do you believe that this world was created by accident?
A couple of molecules colliding?

LOOK AROUND

Do you believe that this world was created by accidents?
A couple of molecules colliding?

LOOK AROUND

a leave falls to the floor and rests there, quivering.

a spider web glistens in the sun.

a colony of ants swarm on the grass.

Do you believe that this world was created by accident?
A couple of molecules colliding?

LOOK AROUND

millions of light years away a star is born.

The moon spins in a never ending cycle.

the night stretches forever

Do you believe that this world was created by accident?
A couple of molecules colliding?

LOOK AROUND

a tiny girl with ginger curls chases down the beach.

an elderly couple sit on the bench, feeding the ducks.

a group of teens stroll downtown the street laughing.


Do you believe that this world was created by accident?
A couple of molecules colliding?

I don't.

...

Our maker

I open my eyes,
seeing the world suddenly,
everything,
new,
as it was in the beginning,
on the seventh day, 
each leaf that falls,
each blade of grass,
each rain drop glistening on its emerald stem,
was crafted by immortal hands,
as was the sky,
the stars,
the sea,
and those hands crafted both you,
and me.

the world we live in now

imagine a world full of silence,
imagine a world full of hate,
imagine a world full of people,
not talking,
just staring into cyber
space.
imagine a world full of towers,
imagine a world full of fear,
a world full of dictatoral power. 
Imagine that world.
Imagine it.
then look around.
because this is the world
we live in now.

Tick tick tick.

One
two
three
four

tick tick tick

night to morn
moon to sun 

tick tick tick 

young to old
child to grown

ticl tick tick

dying star
dying world

tick tick

tick.

 

Tick tick tick.

One
two
three
four

tick tick tick

night to morning
moon to sun 

tick tick tick 

young to old
child to grown

ticl tick tick

dieing star
deing world

tick tick

tick.

 

Returning

Peeling paint

She was not quite sure what had bought her here, the the scarlet  railings of a school she had not seen for years. 

 She had stood at the crossroads, perfectly still, her mind hovering in the empty space between left and right. Then, without a flutter of an eyelid, as if it was the most natural thing in the world, she turned left. 

She was lost in memories. One hand rested on the metal gate and she absently started picking of flacking red paint that had been new and shining 3 years ago.

It was the holidays and the playground was silent, empty but for a lone pigeon, shaking out bedraggled feathers as it hopped back and forwards. The school was sleeping  a veil of peace hanging over it, but to nia it was alive with ghosts. 

Shed sat in the corner by the large plant pot and cried when she was moved down a spelling  group. That  bench in the...

Returning

Peeling paint

She was not quite sure what had bought her here, the the scarlet  railings of a school she had not seen for years. 

 She had stood at the crossroads, perfectly still, her mind hovering in the empty space between left and right. Then, without a flutter of an eyelid, as if it was the most natural thing in the world, she turned left. 

She was lost in memories. One hand rested on the metal gate and she absently started picking of flacking red paint that had been new and shining 3 years ago.

It was the holidays and the playground was silent, empty but for a lone pigeon, shaking out bedraggled feathers as it hopped back and forwards. The school was sleeping, but to Nia it was alive with ghosts.



    
 

'www.generateapoem-rosie.com'

"It would be so lovely if you could write a poem about this weekend"
I cringed inwardly.
what did she expect from me, rhyming couplets every time I open my mouth?
what was I, www.generateapoem-rosie.com?
but I smiled, nodded, told her I'd try.
I tried.
titled it 'a family weekend', but didn't get any further. What did she expect? 
'We played in the sun
it was fun'?
my mum told me that I should be grateful my aunt takes such an interest, 
bit every time she pulls me conspiringly in to a corner and asks me how my 'writing career' is going, I want to be sick.
is that wrong?

Truths and Untruths

So we could all stand as one

I wish magic existed.
the kind of magic that brings people together.
I wish I could walk in to a room full of strangers and know they were just undiscovered friends.
I wish I could smile at someone, and they would smile back.
I wish the world would sing together, even if we're all out of tune.
I wish every whisper behind my back was someone planing a surprise.
I wish magic was real, that we could all be as one.

Cradled by the wind

I sit in the swing,
Swaying, 
The wind seems to cradle me like a loving mothers arms,
As I rock,
Back and forward.
Back and forward.
To the music of the trees that sing,
For me.
And the gentle wind that wraps me in a blanket of leaves,
As the branches bend,
Ever protecting,
Over me,
And I swing.

I want a life worth living

Sometimes I stop and look at what life is and, well, it depresses me.
Life seems like a series of meaningless steps, school, university, job, marriage, retirement.
I don't what a life like that.
Where your always waiting for something, a promotion, a new car, the weekend.
I don't want a life where life is a couple of bullet points on a list. I want A life where you can't make lists,
because everything is changing, moving, living.
I don't want a life based on money,
I want to be rich in smiles, laughs. 
I want a life worth living.
 

Flash Fiction Competition 2017

Suitcase

The suitcase wheels had jammed. Swearing, he grabbed the bag by the handle, finding grim satisfaction in the pain as the bag banged against his leg. He deserved pain. He should've left sooner. And now...

His case was blue, new but the zip was nearly broken as if it had been opened many times. Round the handle a tag read: Flight 648 Heathrow-Boston. The airport attendant reminded him of Emma. Of Emma when she had willed him to stay.  

The attendant smiled, wished him a pleasant flight.

He left Heathrow airport, an unused plane ticket in his pocket. 

Slow Seeing

​Living forest

The forest is living.
Quivering with aniticipation.
Still at first glance and then
The conapy of green above me flurrys for a moment,
the carpet of ivy twitches.
Out of the corner of my eye I catch a fern dance,
Only to freeze seconds later.
But there is no wind.
The forest is alive.
Breathing.
And...
Speaking.
A thousand voices chatter in the stillness.
Each one different from the next,
This is more than just birdsong,
As bluetits converse,
And a wood pigeon adds it's opinion to the mix in unfaltering harmony,
And as another sings a joyful trill,
The others are silent,
Then burst into song.
The forest is alive.
Living.

Flash Fiction Competition 2017

Suitcase

The suitcase wheels had jammed again. Swearing, he grabbed the bag by the handle, finding grim satisfaction in the pain as the bag banged repeatedly against his leg. He deserved pain. He should've left sooner. And now...

His case was blue, new but the zip was nearly broken as if it had been opened, closed, many times. Round the handle a tag read: Flight 648 Heathrow-Boston. The airport attendant reminded him of Emma. Of Emma when she had willed him to stay.  

 Somebody wished him a pleasant flight.

He left Heathrow airport, an unused plane ticket in his pocket.

Talking to “You”

Drip

you left home at 16. Got a job. Convinced you could look after yourself. You sent of job applications, didn't even think. Plumber, Builder, Receptionist? none of them appealed. Scientist would be fun, but you didn't have the grades to even work in the basement. 2 years in the shop, stacking crates of bugget wine that you could not afford. kept saying you would build up to the shop floor, and then you got sacked. Now they've cut the electricity. Your taps leaking but you can't afford to fix it. You tried and now it won't even turn. It just drips. Drip. Down the drain. Like your future.You know your family would help you, your brothers in university, he'd let you stay, your parents would pay for you to retake your A levels... but you would never ask.
So you just lie on your bed in the flat that was going to be your future, with the motorway roaring below you,...

Flash Fiction Competition 2017

Suitcase

The suitcase wheels had jammed. Swearing, he grabbed the bag by the handle, finding grim satisfaction in the pain as the bag banged repeatedly against his leg. He deserved pain. He should've left sooner. And now that he had the opportunity...

His case was blue, new but the zip was nearly broken as if it had been opened, closed, many times. A tag was tied around the handle. Flight 648 Heathrow-Boston. The girl had smiled at him as she handed back his case. Wished him a pleasant flight.

He left Heathrow airport, an unused plane ticket in his pocket.

Flash Fiction Competition 2017

Suitcase

The suitcase wheels had jammed. Swearing he grabbed the bag by the handle, finding grim satisfaction in the pain from the bag banging against his leg. He deserved the pain. He should've left sooner. And now when he had the opportunity...

His case was blue, new but the zip was nearly broken as if it had been opened, closed, many times. A tag was tied around the handle. Flight 648 Heathrow-Boston. The girl had smiled at him as she handed back his case. Wished him a pleasant flight.

He left Heathrow airport. 
An unused plane ticket in his pocket.

Writing Small

I shouldn't hide

I know that I am nothing. A blot. A hiccup, caused by an irregularity, I am an irregularity. But sometimes I hope, atoms are small, insignificant, yet they make up everything. It's dark, I light a match and watch it flicker. It doesn't hid from the shadows. I shouldn't hid. 
 

Songwriting Competition 2017

No safety net

Its the starting,
thats the hardest part.

turning on a light no knowing what you might
see,
stepping through a door not knowing who is waiting on the other
side,

Jumping off,
and falling down,
hoping that you won't hit the
ground.

They told you
there was a
safety 
net,
they told you to
jump,
they said the risk
was
worth it,

now your swimming with no breaths
left.

Waiting for the lifeboat to
safe you.

For the safety net to 
catch you.

but your still falling...
your still falling...
and apparently,
the risk is,

worth it.


You started out,
with a heart of gold,
you were gonna make all of your dreams come
true,

and when you jumped,
it was with a parachute,
but somebody,
somebody
cut
the 
ropes.

and now your falling...
falling,
and apparently,
the risk is,

worth it.


The told you
there was a
safety 
net,
they told you to

jump.

 

Songwriting Competition 2017

No safety net

Its the starting,
thats the hardest part.

turning on a light no knowing what you might
see,
stepping through a door not knowing who is waiting on the other
side,

Jumping off,
and falling down,
hoping that you won't hit the
ground.

The told you
there was a
safety 
net,
they told you to
jump,
they said the risk
was
worth it,

now your swimming with no breaths
left.

Waiting for the lifeboat to
safe you.

For the safety net to 
catch you.

but your still falling...
your still falling...
and apparently,
the risk is,

worth it.

The told you
there was a
safety 
net,
they told you to
jump.

 

thoughts

Sometimes I think that maybe my thoughts are not my own but dreams wished upon a million stars and hopes scattered across the darkening sky of humanity.  Sometimes I think that maybe thoughts are free, butterflies, a million tecni-coloured birds swarming across the plains of imagination, not confided to one mind but part of them all. Sometimes I think that maybe my thoughts are carried across on wings of sunlight to rest between fields of gold and bask in the seas of belief, until they become my own.

Writing for Children Competition 2017

Lucy the real-life princess

Once upon a time there was a girl called Lucy.
If you met Lucy you would have thought she was a normal little girl.
You would probably thought she was a nice little girl.
You wouldn't have guessed that Lucy was, in fact, a princess.
Not a fairy tale princess like in books, oh no, Lucy was a real-life princess.
Which meant she had to do real life princess things like
Go to long boring grown up party's
And
Listen to long grown up conversations
And 
Give flowers to lots of fat grown up mayors who
Called her a sweet little girl
And 
Went on
And on
About grown up things.

But there was one thing Lucy didn't have to do that normal children did. 
Princess Lucy didn't have to go to school.
Instead she had to sit in a stuffy room all day on a overstuffed armchair and have lessons by herself with her teacher, Mrs Cottingson-Lloyd....

Cocoon

I huddle in my bed,
cocooned,
for a moment enclosed beneath layers
of sleep
and hope
and fretful tears.

I am cocooned,
for a moment warm,
safe,
as time stops and 
silence washes over
the sleeping house.

I am cocooned,
waiting for rebirth,
a different self,
a person changed...

yet when i wake
I have not sprouted wings.

 

Into the Woods

Guardian

A silent onlooker surveying the years,
A member of the chorus for the ballet of the winds,
A many limbed guardian of lush green lands,
A statue carved by ancient fingers,
A mother of a million children.
 

Synchronized Sounds

At the Waters Waves I Wait

at the waters waves I wait,
where the wind howls ,
where the white gulls soar on weathered wings,
and whispered secrets by the wind are whipped,
lost within the swirling wailing whiteness of the sky,
when the day is waning,
still I wait beneath the white washed sky. 
wait for when with worthy encore come,
Who when the wait is over will arise,
the wrens of the water woefully serenade,
and whales wake to wonder while the water washes away the woes of wasted wishes,
because he is here.

The living ocean deep

Hark!
Can you here it?
The breathing of the sea.
The gentle lapping
roaring,
slapping,
ice cold wind,
the  sea.
Hark!
Can you here it?
The living ocean deep.
The breathing,
sighing,
writhing,
fighting,
sound of ocean deep.

Sea of Steel

An ocean of iron,
steel and strength,
a sea of death,
and beauty.
It rages with fire,
cold as ice,
a sea of steel,
writhing with light,
treasures untold,
crashing with force,
terror unfolds.
fear and grace,
flecked with gold.
A seagull dips,
dancing through the spray,
I watch from my craggy throne,
the wind is my crown,
and the sea,
my home.
 

Say cheese

we line up. All 3 of us standing in a patch of 'dappled shade' that was apparently perfect for the photo. Mike, nearly a man, stands relaxed, a smile on his face but his eyes slightly pained as Tom scowls at him. I stand between them, awkward, as Mike deflects the dislike in Tom's gaze. Our mum, standing their impatiently with the phone nods at me so, tentatively, I put my arm around Tom. As if by instinct he grabs my arm and digs his nail into my flesh. I yelp but bite my lip. "say cheese" Tom grimaces. Mike half smiles with furious looks at Tom. I force a grin. 

Other Worlds

Magic mornings

My childhood was the sound of my mums voice through the muffled sounds of a waking world as she read to us. All three of us, me, sam and ben all cuddled up in the big double bed while our mum read aloud. She read us the books of her childhood. The silver sword. the lion the witch and the wardrobe. The white horse. Children's books of a generation ago. Of magic kingdoms, talking horses, enchantresses, dryads and mermaids. The words strung together like poetry that seemed to breathe magic into those early mornings. 

Synchronized Sounds

At the Waters Waves I Wait

at the waters waves I wait,
where the wind howls ,
where the white gulls soar on weathered wings,
and whispered secrets by the wind are whipped,
lost within the swirling wailing whiteness of the sky,
when the day is waning,
still I wait beneath the white washed sky.

Wishful thinking

Sometimes I can't see
where the sea ends 
and the
sky begins,
and sometimes I can't tell,
when the day fades,
or when,
dusk creeps in,
cause sometimes I don't care,
if I can't tell,
where,
my dreams end, 
and reality kicks in.

Wishful thinking

Sometimes I can't see
where the sea ends 
and the
sky begins,
and sometimes I can't tell,
when the day fades,
or when dusk creeps in,
cause sometimes I don't care,
if I can't tell,
where,
my dreams end, 
and reality kicks in.

Wishful thinking

sometimes I can't see
where the sea ends 
and the
sky begins,
and sometimes I can't tell,
when the day fades,
when dusk creeps in,
cause sometimes I don't care,
if I can't tell,
where,
my dreams end,
and reality kicks in.

Mystery Writing Competition 2017

Lies

SUSIE
I found the photograph in the attic. Rummaging through boxes I spent hours up there smiling a photos of me and mum when I was a baby, my first day at school, me and dad on my 5th birthday, all 3 of us on a holiday in Spain, but this one was different. Tucked inside a blank diary and, unlike the others, black and white, a women, about 40 with long hair which I imagine to be blond. She is laughing as her hair is whipped about in the wind. There's something about her. Maybe its the way she smiling at me, maybe its her eyes, but its like I know her, like I've known her all my life. Beside the photo someone has pressed a flower, a pansy. Theres a note on decaying paper too, the writing so small I could hardly read it, "I'm sorry" it said, and my insides writhed as I stared once more at...

Geography of Home

Sanctuary

Sometimes my Bedroom's like an Aladdin's cave, a place to wonder round and gaze in wonder at dusty shells, ornate boxes, painted stones, cluttering my shelves.
    Other times its like a huge diary, a sea of memories. I can sit for hours, reaching into boxes and gazing at old photos from when I was a baby, clumsy cross-stitch when I was 9, a picture of a cat coloured in in blotchy felt tip, a broken toy that I still love.
    Mostly, now, though, my bedroom is a sanctuary. When tears are streaming down my face it's there I run to draw the curtains hiding me whee I couch on the widow lege. To hide beneath the pages of a book I know by heart, to smell the familiar smell that means I am safe.
 

Mystery Writing Competition 2017

Lies

SUSIE
I found the photograph in the attic. Rummaging through boxes I spent hours up there smiling a photos of me and mum when I was a baby, my first day at school, me and dad on my 5th birthday, all 3 of us on a holiday in Spain, but this one was different. Tucked inside a blank diary and, unlike the others, black and white, a women, about 40 with long hair which I imagine to be blond. She is laughing as her hair is whipped about in the wind. I could almost see her eyes twinkling at me. There's something about her. Maybe its the way she smiling at me, maybe its her eyes, but its like I know her, like I've known her all my life. Beside the photo someone has pressed a flower, a pansy. Theres a note on decaying paper too, the writing so small I could hardly read it, "I'm sorry" it said, and...

Turned to Stone

Blinded by love

I had been blind. Blind for 16 years of my life. Blind to what was going on a round me. Blinded by love. blinded by the childish belief that my parents are prefect. super heroes. invincible. that they were good. I was wrong.

 

but why grandma?

"tell me a story!"

Once upon a time their lived a beautiful princess who wanted to travel the world and help poor children. But her parents were cruel and jealous, they did not want to lose their daughter so they locked her away in a tower and there she stayed.

" but why grandma, why did they lock their own daughter away?"

because they loved her. 



 

Collective Voice

Derailed

No one spoke at first. We just sat in silence, accompanied by the constant flickering of the lights. Some of us paced back and forth through the static train carriage, some just sat, muttering or staring listlessly at their phones. We were stuck in our own bubbles of self pity. then one of us started to cry. Just a kid, a kid who didn't understand, a kid who'd been on the way too the cinema with his mother, his mother who still hand,t come back. "where is she?" he creed. we glanced at each other, suddenly united in pity for this child. his mother had been one of the few who had gone out on to the tracks when our carriage had been derailed. who had not come back.

At the Beginning

He asked no questions.
He lead my out of the rain and sat me down, his eyes full of concern.
"tell me everything"
it wasn't a request.
"where shall I start?"
"at the beginning" 

 

Soph where r u?

Sophias mothers text messages sent between 10:46 and 12:17pm

Contact: mum

10:46pm
Hey honey, where r u? suppers gone cold, what time will u b back?

11:04pm
where ru? Sophia whats happened, why aren't u answering?

11:18pm
soph where r u, please answer, soph! 

11:38pm
look soph, if u don't answer were going to have to call the police

11:54pm
sophia why r u doing this 2 us! ur never back late, just pls answer, pls.

12:17pm
soph we've called the police.  


"999, what service do you require?"
"police, police please"
"Putting you through to police...this is the police speaking, whats your emergency?"
"its our daughter, she's, she's gone missing, she went to her friends house and was meant to be back 2hours ago, I don't know where she is, I don't know what to do..."


 

Poetry and Spoken Word Competition 2017

Time

If I could stop the sun from setting,
paint the sky forever blue,
if I could stop the leaves from falling,
let them bloom,
forever new.

If I could stop the clock from ticking,
stop the future falling,
slipping,
I would stop the sun from setting,
stop the leaves from dying,
withering.

I could try to stop the clock,
I could try to block the tide,
I could try to bottle the wind,
to trap the night,
to paint the sky,

I could try.

But there are 60 seconds in a minute,
there is and will always be,

even when the stars fall from the sky,
and the leaves forever die,
even when the night fades to nothing,
when the world cracks in half,
ripping,
tearing life apart.

Even then the clocks tick on...

60 seconds in a minute,
there is and will always be.


if I could try to stop time creeping up on you,
taking you when your back is...

Poetry and Spoken Word Competition 2017

Time

If I could stop the sun from setting,
paint the sky forever blue,
if I could stop the leaves from falling,
let them bloom,
forever new.

If I could stop the clock from ticking,
stop the future falling,
slipping,
I would stop the sun from setting,
stop the leaves from dying,
withering.

I could try to stop the clock,
I could try to block the tide,
I could try to bottle the wind,
to trap the night,
to paint the sky,
I could try.

But there are 60 seconds in a minute,
there is and will always be,

when the stars fall from the sky,
when the leaves forever die,
and when night fades to nothing,
when the world cracks in half,
ripping,
tearing life apart.

Even then the clocks tick on...
60 seconds in a minute,
there is and will always be.






 

I'm going to write a book

I'm going to write a book
I don't know where to start,
but I have this feeling that if I just pick up a pen,
the rest will come.

Poetry and Spoken Word Competition 2017

Time

If I could stop the sun from setting,
paint the sky forever blue,
if I could stop the leaves from falling,
let them bloom,
forever new.

If I could stop the clock from ticking,
stop the future falling,
slipping,
I would stop the sun from setting,
stop the leaves from dying,
withering.

I could try to stop the clock,
I could try to block the tide,
I could try to bottle the wind,
to trap the night,
to paint the sky,

I could try.

But there are 60 seconds in a minute,
there is and will always be,

when the stars fall from the sky,
when the leaves forever die,
and when night fades to nothing,
when the world cracks in half,
ripping,
tearing life apart.

Even then the clocks tick on...

60 seconds in a minute,
there is and will always be.

If I could stop your hair from turning grey,
stop your memory misting with age
I could try to...

The Subject that Matters

The lesson where pupils teach themselves

Everyone learns differently,  through drama, art, writing, talking, therefore, as we all learn diffeently, how can we be taught the same? This is the idea behind MYself, the lesson where pupils teach themselves.

At the start of each term the students are given a topic, following the ciriculim, for example 'the Aztecs' 'comparing religions' 'volcanos' or such like. From here they can research the topic in what ever way they want. They can write essays, create posters or presentations, drama sketches, it is up to the pupil. During these lessons there is always a teacher at hand, to support, discipline and encourage the pupils however the pupils work (or group work) is completely there own.

MYself, the lesson where pupils teach themselves.

I got something to say...

Hey you!
Yes you,
listen up!
I got something to say,
and your going to listen,
like it or not.
you know that old saying,
"words can't hurt"?
well its a lie.
cause words can hurt,
they can eat into your soul,
leave you empty,
alone.
cause yeah,
words can kill.
 

cause you've had enough

cause your tired of friends laughing at you 
your schoolwork slipping
the things you can't do
cause youve had enough of saying its fine
the voices in your head
the screaming in your mind
cause somethings will change
and some things won't
and sometimes you just don't know

Creature View

Cat

The house had once been quite. The cat would lay in the sun while the women sat quietly, reading, mostly. Sometimes the cat would wake from  drowsily to find a saucer of milk, and see the women's smiling face from the window as he lapped it up.
     then He turned up. A man with a stupid haircut and a soppy smile. there were less and less saucers of milk, books lay forgotten by the garden chair she had once read on, and the cat skulked in the garden, growing more and more invisible to the women who had once cared for him. the cat knew she was happy, there were more smiles. more laughter when He was around. she would dress up in fancy clothes and go out for dinner, while the cat waited in the derelict shed. 
     there was a time when the cat just left. roaming the forests and moors,for weeks, only to come back to see ...

Terror

The shadows underneath your bed,
the darkness ever constant there,
crouching in a fading beam of light,
waiting for the unexpected,
hope dwindling,
running from who knows what,
trying to fight shadows,
with soldiers and guns.

stories of sanctuary

These are the books of my childhood,
these are the friends of my past,
these are the tales I lived off,
and this is the place that I hide.
When the dark gets dark,
and I am about to fall,
I read the familiar words,
and crouch beneath the worn pages,
seeking sanctuary.
As I read of boarding schools and Magic trees and perfect children,
living perfect lives,
and wish I still saw the world
like I did back then,
exiting,
free,
simple,
a childs dream.  

Words can heal

If words could kill
we'd all be dead
if words could kill
we'd be too scared
to write a sentence or a phrase
and english teachers would scream
'no, don't write, or speak,
your accidentally kill us all!'
If world could heal we'd all be safe
and the wounds would slowly go
as friends would write us loving lines
and we'd leave school
saved
Words can kill.
eat away at our hearts un till theres nothing left.
words can heal,
clean away the pain,
because we know were loved.
 

Op-Ed Competition 2017

Climate change, we are all responsible

"The Greatest Threat to Our Planet Is the Belief That Someone Else Will Save It"- Robert Swan, environmentalist and explorer

Everyone knows about it, the smog in china threatening to choke our earth, the ice caps melting due to climate change, but what are we, as individuals,doing,about it? The short answer, nothing. Because, as Robert Swan says, we believe "That Someone Else Will Save It", We think 'oh the government will do something, or the charities will, what has it got to do with me?'. everything. Because this is your planet. And everyone is responsible. This is what believe.

 Since 2013 the UK has been running CCAs (climate change agreements), in a bid to reduce carbon waste produced by the UK. However nothing will change endless we cooperate. Its our cars that are polluting our skies, its our rubbish that is being piled into land fills and rotting away beneath our feet, its usthat carelessly throw way...

Our society is twisted

Our society is twisted,
what happens to make everyone judge?
be judged?
to make it matter what clothes you wore,
how you speak?
we are all human,
and, lets be honest
everyone of us judge,
judge the person next to us on the bus for the music they listen to,
our friends for a random comment they make,
but it shouldn't be like this,
we shouldn't have to worry,
we only judged because we are judged,
because our society is twisted,

 

I Remember

I remember how we forgot

I remember the way the wind sang through the tree outside our house,
I remember the way the rain sounded as it pitter pattered on our roof at night; how i would lie awake, listening,
I remember the way our little dog use to lie, curled up nose to tail on our old sofa,
I remember running home after my first day at school and hiding in the cupboard upstairs till I was bribed down with promises of cake,
I remember how father shouted when Alfie stole the matches from the mantle piece,
And I remember how he warned us, 'this house will go up in flames!' 
I remember my mother telling us to be careful,
I remember how we forgot.

we are no better

The human race.
Puny, weak creatures who's only gift is the gift of dishonesty.
A lion and a man fighting, the lion easily wins.
but give the man a gun,
and the tigers dead.
we have worked our way up the food chain by cheating, and stealing and killing,
we are no better
than murderers.

For those who don't know the sea as I do

For those who don't know the sea as I do,
take note,
for the sea can be your friend,
or it can tear you apart,
it roars and growls,
if you do not listen you might mistake its whispering for anger,
but the ocean is a being,
not a beast. 
 

Reality

Sometimes I think my thoughts condensates,
cause the world outsides so cold,
and I thought I was free,
roaming wild,
then they fall to the floor as rain,
to form murky puddles,
when before I thought the sky was endless,
but reality pulls me down,
cause the world outsides so cruel,
and I thought I was free,

'you can be whatever you want to be'

"you can be whatever you want to be"
Drummed into my head
Woven through the fabric of my childhood
I believed it
I was going to be a teacher
A princess
A writer
But how can I know what I want to be when I don't know me?

Op-Ed Competition 2017

Climate change, we are all responsible

"The Greatest Threat to Our Planet Is the Belief That Someone Else Will Save It"- Robert Swan, environmentalist and explorer

Everyone knows about it, the smog in china threatening to choke our earth, the ice caps melting due to climate change, but what are we, as individuals,doing,about it? The short answer, nothing. Because, as Robert Swan says, we believe "That Someone Else Will Save It", We think 'oh the government will do something, or the charities will, what has it got to do with me?'. everything. Because this is your planet. And everyone is responsible. This is what believe.

 Since 2013 the UK has been running CCAs (climate change agreements), in a bid to reduce carbon waste produced by the UK. However nothing will change endless we cooperate. Its our cars that are polluting our skies, its our rubbish that is being piled into land fills and rotting away beneath our feet, its usthat carelessly throw way...

Unbelievable Food

Dream soufflé

Cakes and confectionary
Dream soufflé

Ingredients:
500g whipped cloud gathered from mount olympus
The first ray of light that touches a fresh rose bud
250g sugar cane grown by moonlight
500ml of golden water from the stream that runs beneath Athens
 
Method:
On the second sunday of the fourth month at sunrise place the whipped cloud and light in a bowl woven from rushes
Leave beneath the shade of the tree of life for 5 days
At moon rise on the 5 day add the sugar and stir with imagination, do not let the moon light fall on it
Make a well in the mixture and pour in the golden water 
Isolate in a wishing well for 2 days 
At the moment the sun first touches the well on the 3rd day take out the bowl
Leave it beneath the rays of the sun in a clearing of moon flowers for 2 hours
Your dream soufflé is cooked, when consumed...

Beyond Reason

Questions about questions

Why is it so hard to think of unanswerable questions when life is made up of them?
Why are some questions called 'unanswerable' when they have one million answers?
why is life defined by possible questions when it should be defined by possible answers?
Why am I questioning questioning questions? 

Your View

Our World, what I think.

1. Everyone is a friend, no mater of faith, race or opinion, we are all the same.
we are or human, we live in the same world, breath the same air, we are the same.

2.Success is not measured in money, or fame, it is measured in love.
Nowadays everything seems to be about money, money and celebrities who squander their money on mansions. This, to me is not success, i believe that success is a smile returned, friends to care for and to care in turn. success is measured in love. 

3.Everyone's voices should be heard, you should be able to talk to people in government, and make a difference.
The future of our country is placed in the hands of a couple of important people right at the top of the government. my opinion is that everyone should get a say, not just in ticking a box yes or no, or choosing between 2 people, actually...

Invented Cartography

The valley of Astistan

The valley of Astistan has often been called mother natures palace. A stream sings between two towering hills as if a giant finger had absently traced a path through the earth. The river swells and continues down the dell, bordered by the emerald cliffs, for a mile or two. then, with no warning, the green hills melt and flatten out as the river flows into a silver lake. The et luna in mare or ocean of the moon, named so for the un-natural stillness of this vast body of water, and the way, at night the moons reflection shines so clearly from its depths, as if the moon had indeed fallen from the sky. 

Alien

London City
Planet earth

First impressions

The people here live like animals. 
In square boxes, blocking out the sun.
They travel around in tin cans, 
And steel serpents that belch smoke,
The sky is littered with metal dragons, 
And stars are almost non-existent.
At night the dark is banished by neon lights.
And the stars seem fainter, muted. 
The moon sombre, smaller somehow than at home.
I miss the moon.
It was my friend.

Voices, footsteps coming closer, I slink into the shadows, melting into the dark, sudden fear pumping through my veins, but no, they're never find me here.

They have this thing, here in the UK.
They call it democracy,
Choice of The people,
But it doesn't seem like that, 
It's the important people who seem to make the decisions,
Not The people.

They're always arguing, people, if they really had a choice there wouldn't be any arguing, would there?

Everyone talks about freedom,
They live in a...

Names, Names, Names

Names, names... more names

A breakfast joint- egg on toast
A new smartphone- milkyway
An eyeglasses store- eye need glasses
A dog pound- save our skins 
A highway- H1 
An island resort- ocean blue 
A new constellation- the star 
A pet polar bear- snowy (so original...) 
A nail polish color- purple galaxy  
A new butterfly species- flying grace

This I Believe

to make someone smile

I collapsed on my bed and let tiredness wash over me. And with it came the pungent stench of hopelessness. Was this the point of each day? simply to reach the next day, an the next? surly there was more to it. i felt like a rainbow of colours had suddenly been replaced with grey, as if life was grey. I stared into space, trying to pluck a alternative from thin air. Then it hit me. Warmth bubbled up inside me and i felt a smile spreading across my  face. Because the point of each day isn't to reach the next. the point of each day is to make someone else's day that little bit better. the point of each day is to make someone smile. the point of each day is to make someone life just that little bit more colourful.
This I believe.

Open Prompt

In a word

Life in a word;

Indescribable 

indescribable in a word;

anything

anything in a word;

 everything 

Newsworthy

'united' kingdom

The united kingdom

United
Combined into a single entity.
Concerned with, produced by, or resulting from mutual action.
Being in harmony; agreed.


recently this has not been true of great britian. The Brexit vote has ripped our community apart. Separating us. We are not a single entity, any action we take is certainly not mutual, we do not live in harmony, we are not agreed.What has become of the dream of 1800 ? 
   

What Came Before

too late

 I am sitting in a large bright room. the flowers on the window sill give the illusion of hope, but its as fake as the flowers. we all can sense it. the dreadful hopelessness that hangs around, a suffocating blanket.this place has a stench of decay, seeping through the mask of chemicals and disinfectant. in the corner an old man hunches, eyes staring unseeing at a decade old copy of the Times. a 5 year old girl has given up screaming for her mother, no she sits, silent tears streaming down her face, her eyes wide in her pale face. Too wide, too pale. A nurse opens the door and stars at me stricken,  "ms Baxter, I'm so sorry...", I can read in her eyes the words she doesn't dare utter, 'its to late, she's gone, she's dead'

WILD

Storm for a soul

Wild.
Untamed.
A storm for a soul.
Raging fire,
burning red.
Uncontrollable. 
Uncontainable.
Feeding of darkness,
living on a diet of nightmares.
You cannot stop the seasons change,
or hold back the tide.
Wild is unstoppable.
Wild is me.

1 Photo, 100 Words

Going with the flow

they're heartless, just empty shells
I'm not sure if i mean the jellyfish or the people.
The jellyfish
Flouting in a tank. Not living at all, simply being.
The people
Content to fill they're lives with meaningless words
Promises
Not living at all. simply being. 
They have no brain.
I'm not sure if i mean the jellyfish or the people.
The jellyfish. 
following the current. Not thinking at all, simply floating.
The people
Stuck in there own tank.
Just going with the flow. Stuck in waters of culture. 
Not thinking at all, simply floating
Jellyfish
people
whats the difference 
Really. 
 

TV Pilot Competition 2017

Control

EXTERIOR - ABANDONED CITY - DAY
ZADIA AMBROS (21) and TREYE MORIANA (19) are running franticly through the abandoned city to the sound of suspenseful music. 
ZADIA  : come on!
TREYE : I don't think I can...
Music fades. Treye is obviously lagging behind. Theres a flash and he  falls to the ground, blood seeping from his leg.
ZADIA: Treye!
Zadia sprints over to were Trye is on the floor panting.
TREYE: Please Zadia, you go... save your self.. its to late. Go. Run.
Treye closes his eyes and Zadia, traumatised runs off.
CUT TO
INTERIOR - ABANDONED WARE HOUSE - DAY
the ware house looks like its being used as some kind of base. There are a couple of people around.KYEL GOTT (28) approaches  Zadia as she enters. 
KYLE: Wheres Treye? 
ZADIA: Dead
Kyle covers his face with his hands
KYLE: oh god, how?
ZADIA: it was a drone... we were running, he got shot in the leg.
KYLE: thats the third this...

Why I Write

Thoughts

I write to untangle the silken threads of my thoughts
To weave a picture of a thousand colours
To escape the greys and shadows of life
I write 
To understand.

Signing Off

Goodbye 2016

Dear 2016
I guess, to start, I should say thank you, for chucking so many opportunities my way. I mean Peter Pan and twelfth night, performing on a stage. The summer holidays was great to, mostly, but I guess you have to even it out, a year can't be all good. But seriously 2016, your going to have a bad reputation, of the year a blond idiot was voted president elect (I have nothing against blonds, I'm blond, but thats Trump), the year UK left the EU, the year terrorist were at large (and still are). I mean ok, maybe I'm being a bit harsh, you have done some great things for me too. Start of last year i found my feet in my new school, good friends, interesting lessons, Im still in touch with my old friends to, so thanks for that, you've given me lots of little moments of joy that may not seem a lot in the...

The Peace of Wild Things

Library of dreams

open up the covers
leaf through pages old
step inside a dream
forget the chores you have to do
the monsters at your door
forget the argument you've had 
the stalking beast inside you
step inside another life
another world 
a different past
a different future 
step inside a dream
freedom

My December Competition 2016

A walk through December

As I walk down a corridor somewhere in my mind, I see a door labeled Christmas, and now I walk inside. 
In our sitting room, the first saturday of the month. Ben's in the corner, setting up his camrea on time lapse mode, trying to capture our christmas in a speeded up video of the past. As I reverently stroke each tree decoration, and stare in awe at the emerald giant, who's naked boughs welcome us. We cloth him in memories and smiles and laughs as one by one we place our decorations upon his arms. And Daddy is grinning as he points out, a bauble from india, from Mumbai, Timbuktu. And Mummy untangles glass stars from once gold streamers and silver angles too. And Sam and Ben laugh, and shake their heads at each other as I narrowly miss hurling myself into the tree.
and I crouch by a key hole, somewhere in my mind, see twinkling lights and laughter...

Rosie. 's 240 Likes

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Patron

You're following over thirty other writers!

Earned about 1 year ago


Leader

You're being followed by over five other writers!

Earned over 1 year ago


Super star

You've got SO many followers - more than thirty!

Earned 12 months ago


Luminary

Woah. You've published ONE HUNDRED PIECES!!

Earned 3 months ago


Power writer

Do you ever sleep? You've written over TEN THOUSAND WORDS.

Earned 11 months ago


Publisher

You've gone live!

Earned over 1 year ago


Prolific

You really are prolific - you've published over ten pieces already.

Earned over 1 year ago


Favoriter

Love your work - you've read and favorited over ten pieces published by others

Earned over 1 year ago


Popular penman

Very nicely done - you've got over ten favorites.

Earned about 1 year ago


Reviewer

You've reviewed!

Earned over 1 year ago


Competitor

Thanks for entering a competition.

Earned over 1 year ago


Best seller inactive

Get over twenty favorites for one of your published pieces and you'll be a bestseller.

Master reviewer inactive

Write and publish over fifty reviews to become a Master Reviewer

Pro reviewer inactive

Submit over five reviews and get that Pro Reviewer feeling.

Top critic inactive

Submit over fifteen reviews and you'll be a top critic.