livpalmbos

United States

She/her
16
Huffleclaw
Daughter of Athena
Peculiar
High Fae
Divergent
Introvert
Christian
Aspiring writer
Photography, reading, and writing

Message from Writer

"this is my dream, i'll decide where it goes from here"

- alice in wonderland

Published Work

Poetry and Spoken Word Competition: 2021

the itsy-bitsy spider: a children's tale

i. "the itsy-bitsy spider went up the water spout / out came the humans and wipes his species out"

bare rocky expanses for miles
no life, no creatures
a dusty chalkboard wiped clean
no itsy-bitsy spiders to be seen
"where did they go?" I ask my mother curiously
maybe they're just hiding
or maybe they're never coming back

ii. "out came the sun and dried up all the rain..."

baked ground, cracked 
sucked dry of moisture
polar ice caps
drip-
drip-
dripping down the drain
as the sun gazes down, pitiless and unrelenting
gases venting
into the dead husk of a sky
if i squint hard enough it almost looks blue
ozone layer shredding into threads we can’t weave together again
national emergency, the tv says
"we can't stay here anymore."

iii. “…humanity moves on and makes the same mistakes again” 

i have been carried away to a new planet
a new home
the sky is blue,
but already...

Poetry and Spoken Word Competition: 2021

the itsy-bitsy spider: a children's tale

i. "the itsy-bitsy spider went up the water spout / out came the humans and wipes his species out"

bare rocky expanses for miles
no life, no creatures
a dusty chalkboard wiped clean
no itsy-bitsy spiders to be seen
"where did they go?" I ask my mother curiously
maybe they're just hiding
or maybe they're never coming back

ii. "out came the sun and dried up all the rain..."

baked ground, cracked
sucked dry of moisture
polar ice caps
drip-
drip-
dripping down the drain
as the sun gazes down, pitiless and unrelenting
gases venting
into the dead husk of a sky
if i squint hard enough it almost looks blue
ozone layer shredding into threads we can’t weave together again
national emergency, the tv says
"we can't stay here anymore."

iii. “…humanity moves on and makes the same mistakes again” 

i have been carried away to a new planet
a new home
the sky is blue,
but already...

Poetry and Spoken Word Competition: 2021

the itsy-bitsy spider: a children's tale

i. "the itsy-bitsy spider went up the water spout / out came the humans and wipes his species out"

bare rocky expanses for miles
no life, no creatures
a dusty chalkboard wiped clean
no itsy-bitsy spiders to be seen
"where did they go?" I ask my mother curiously
maybe they're just hiding
or maybe they're never coming back

ii. "out came the sun and dried up all the rain..."

baked ground, cracked
sucked dry of moisture
polar ice caps
drip-
drip-
dripping down the drain
as the sun gazes down, pitiless and unrelenting
as gases are venting
into the dead husk of a sky
if i squint hard enough it almost looks blue
ozone layer shredding into threads we can’t weave together again
national emergency, the tv says
"we can't stay here anymore."

iii. “…humanity moves on and makes the same mistakes again” 

i have been carried away to a new planet
a new home
the sky is blue, ...

The Art of Specificity

The Boy and the Fence

i.
    The boy stared past the fence, tears threatening. He wanted to go home.

ii. 
    The boy stared past the iron fence, his face and clothes smudged with dirt. His bare feet were cold against the hard, packed earth. The smell of smoke stung his nose and eyes.
    The boy felt tears threatening. He wanted to go home.

iii. 
    The boy stared past the metal, barbed wire fence, his face smudged with dirt and his striped jumper torn. His bare feet, bony and emaciated - just like the rest of his body - were frigid against the packed earth. He had no socks. He had no shoes. 
    The boy felt tears threatening; he wondered whether his tears were from the stench of the smoke that he knew rose in iron columns against the sky behind him, or from the terrible homesickness that was welling up inside of him like a big, black monster that threatened to...

Poetry and Spoken Word Competition: 2021

the itsy-bitsy spider: a children's tale

i. "the itsy-bitsy spider went up the water spout / out came the humans and wipes his species out"

bare rocky expanses for miles
no life, no creatures
a dusty chalkboard wiped clean
no itsy-bitsy spiders to be seen
"where did they go?" I ask my mother curiously
maybe they're just hiding
or maybe they're never coming back

ii. "out came the sun and dried up all the rain..."

baked ground, cracked
sucked dry of moisture
polar ice caps
drip-
drip-
dripping down the drain
as the sun gazes down, pitiless and unrelenting
not repenting
gases venting
into the dead husk of a sky
if i squint hard enough it almost looks blue
ozone layer shredding into threads we can’t weave together again
national emergency, the tv says
"we can't stay here anymore."

iii. “…humanity moves on and makes the same mistakes again” 

i have been carried away to a new planet
a new home
the sky is blue, ...

Poetry and Spoken Word Competition: 2021

the itsy-bitsy spider: a children's tale

i. "the itsy-bitsy spider went up the water spout / out came the humans and wipes his species out"

bare rocky expanses for miles
no life, no creatures
a dusty chalkboard wiped clean
no itsy-bitsy spiders to be seen
"where did they go?" I ask my mother curiously
maybe they're just hiding
or maybe they're never coming back

ii. "out came the sun and dried up all the rain..."

baked ground, cracked
sucked dry of moisture
polar ice caps
drip -
drip -
dripping down the drain
as the sun gazes down, pitiless and unrelenting
not repenting
gases venting
into the dead husk of a sky
if i squint hard enough it
almost
looks blue
ozone layer shredding into threads we can’t weave together again
national emergency, the tv says
"we can't stay here anymore."

iii. “…humanity moves on and makes the same mistakes again” 

i have been carried away to a new planet
a new home
the sky...

Sijo

Untold Stories

It is skeleton of rotting wood and crumbling stone walls,   
Spine hunched and windows shuttered with stories it never got to tell.
What happened? I ask; there's no response. I guess we'll never know.

the itsy-bitsy spider

i. "the itsy-bitsy spider climbed up the waterspout / out came the humans and wiped his species out…”
bare rocky expanses for miles/ 
no life, no creatures/
a dusty chalkboard wiped clean/
no itsy-bitsy spiders to be seen/
“where did they go?” i ask my mother curiously/
maybe they’re just hiding/
or maybe they’re never coming back/
 
ii. "out came the sun and dried up all the rain…” 
baked ground, cracked and sucked dry of any moisture/
polar ice caps drip-drip-dripping down the drain/
as the sun gazes down, pitiless and unrelenting/
not repenting/
gases venting/
into the dead husk of a sky/
if i squint hard enough it almost looks blue/
ozone layer shredding into threads we can’t weave together again/
“mommy, what’s a polar bear?”/
 
iii. “…and the itsy-bitsy spider went up the spout again.”
new home/
new planet/
already spewing fumes into the sky/
already wiping out species by the thousands/
here we go again/

on depression

if my mind was the sky // it would be a January sky // blank and grey and cold // a bare husk of what it used to be // snowflakes frozen in the air // drifting slowly to the icy packed earth // yet never landing // i am the grey blip that exists between Christmas and spring // barely there and yet extending for an eternity // ghostly trail of footprints left in the snow // singular and lonesome // there and then swallowed by oblivion before they are ever seen // not sad but not happy // not here but not there // not asleep but not awake // just existing // one morning to another // just surviving // one day to the next.

25 Words

Tea For Two

"I miss you," Agnes whispered, age-spotted hands grasping Frank's.
"I know," Frank replied as he faded, leaving Agnes alone at a table set for two.

Memory Object

A Birthday Card From a Boy I Used to Know

    Dark blue paper, folded in half, inscribed with the odorous ink of metallic sharpies. Your handwriting, painted in bleeding lines of gold, was just a little clumsy, but still sure; it was finding itself, just like you were. "Happy 13th Birthday", the front proclaimed.
    Never have I been so delighted to receive a birthday card in my life.
    At the time, I was only a scrawny 13 year old, forehead a mountain range of acne, hair frizzy, glasses perpetually smudged. The fact that someone like you- courageous, extroverted, personable- would do something like that for someone like me was unthinkable. 
    But then again, you always tended to defy the odds.
    The inside specified, (in fine-tipped Sharpie, this time) that you were very sorry; you knew my birthday was yesterday, but you still wanted to congratulate me on this milestone. You told me to stay strong, and to have faith- a...

Book Review Competition 2021

"The Cruel Prince" Book Review

    Let's face it- between the natural disasters, pandemic, and political tension across the world, 2020 was decidedly "not our year". I, like many other teens during the height of social isolation, wanted nothing more than to be swept away from the dire circumstances of real life; and what better way to escape than by reading a good book? So I cracked open "The Cruel Prince" by Holly Black, and though I was trapped within the confines of my house, I soon found my imagination spiraling away from the pandemic and my weathered old armchair and falling straight into Faerieland along with Jude and her sisters.
    Jude, Taryn, and Vivi were only seven when their father and mother were murdered in cold blood by a strange and mysterious fey. The man, who claimed to be Vivi's father, swept all three away to Faerieland, a place thick with trickery and magic. For Jude and Taryn, Faerie is...

Book Review Competition 2021

"The Cruel Prince" Book Review

    Let's face it- between the natural disasters, pandemic, and political tension across the world, 2020 was decidedly "not our year". I, like many other teens during the height of social isolation, wanted nothing more than to be swept away from the dire circumstances of real life; and what better way to escape than by reading a good book? So I cracked open "The Cruel Prince" by Holly Black, and though I was trapped within the confines of my house, I soon found my imagination spiraling away from the pandemic and my weathered old armchair and falling straight into Faerieland along with Jude and her sisters.
    Jude, Taryn, and Vivi were only seven when their father and mother were murdered in cold blood by a strange and mysterious fey. The man, who claimed to be Vivi's father, swept all three away to Faerieland, a place thick with trickery and magic. For Jude and Taryn, Faerie is...

Names for Nature

Neverland

thick and deep
and murky with cicada song in the summer,
you were more of a feeling than a place,
an essence than a forest.
you widened my world 
just a little,
just enough.
Neverland, 
you make me feel young again when I walk among your trees,
tracing the names carved into the bark of an old oak
a childhood ghost left to wander,
as i do. 
sometimes,
if i squint hard enough,
i can see your lost boys
bounding across fallen logs
with the vigor only endless youth can ensure.
Neverland,
i read about you as a child,
'second star to the right, and straight on till morning'
but it isn't until now i realize
that you never were far above me
trapped in the light of a shining star
but right beside me
all along.

democracy has died

justice dies in darkness/
as hatred howls it's song/
a great and mighty nation/
where did we go wrong?
 
the country screams for violence/
its people turn to scum/
the city turns to rubble/
what have we become?
 
a chasm splits the city/
the horizon bleeds to red/
gunshots in the hallway/
how long until we’re dead?
 
the children scream for mercy/
their parents, tears have cried/
prophets speak the truth/
democracy has died/

democracy has died

justice dies in darkness/
as hatred howls it's song/
a great and mighty nation/
where did we go wrong?
 
the country screams for violence/
its people turn to scum/
the city turns to rubble/
what have we become?
 
a chasm splits the city/
the horizon bleeds to red/
gunshots in the hallway/
how long until we’re dead?
 
the children scream for mercy/
their parents, tears have cried/
prophets shout the truth/
democracy has died/

The Drabble

Athazagoraphobia

    "So, how's school?" I ask. My swallow crackles over the phone call's audio.
    "Oh, you know. Boring. You?"
    "Same." I struggle to find a way to extend the question. "My algebra teacher sucks."
    "Mine too!" Claudia exclaims, and for a second, I can almost hear the old her, the one I made friends with years ago. "My friends and I all hate her."
    My hands go clammy and my stomach jolts. 
    My friends.
   
Since when had "my friends" turned from 'us' to 'them'?
    She's pulling away and I'm holding on, afraid of what happens when I have to let go.
    
    
   
    
    

Pandemic Memoir

A Pandemic Memoir

Learning to appreciate the small moments.

The Knights

faces masked with plastic,
hands sheathed in latex
bodies armored in sheets of blue,
the knights stand, unbroken, unyielding, in a stubborn line that diseases cannot break.
though death stands over their shoulders, whispering to remind them of their ghosts,
they fight on.
their spirits unbroken,
their courage undoubted,
the risk undeniable,
the knights fight on.
their sleep is sacrificed for the lives of others,
their own well-being for others health. 
though their wards count might outnumber their own, though the odds might tip and spill over against them, 
their hope never fades,
and the knights
fight
on.

November Grab Bag

Sincerely, The Other You

"Dear Evelyn,
You're going to want to sit down. Or grab onto something sturdy. Or pop a couple Advils. I don't know.

"Stars above, I-- I don't even know where to begin. This is going to sound crazy. 

"Let's go back to the beginning, I guess, start with the hard facts. What do you know about the theory of the multiverse? A weird question, I know, but I promise I'm going somewhere with this. Well, if I know me, which I do, you have no idea what I'm talking about. So, let me give you the crash course:

"There are dimensions apart from our own, existing right next to us, thinner than paper and pressed against each other, like flowers pressed between pages of a book. They are splintered off from each other, branching off into an infinite web that spans through time and space.

"Okay, so now I know that you're panicking because you have no idea what's going...

That Sort of Person

Character Study

1. Vega is prone to looking you straight in the eye, and, without flinching once, telling you exactly why you are wrong.
2. Cassie is the type of person to ask, "Is this activity safe, and if so, is it legal?" after actually doing it.
3. No one has ever seen Tess cry, and it is theorized that her first language isn't some ancient form of Latin, but sarcasm.  
4. Heather is loyal and protective; if anyone so much as looks at you wrong, she is already planning their murder, and Lord knows that she is perfectly capable.

Why I Write

I Write to Be Someone I'm Not

    I write so I can be all of the things that I'm not.
    I am not brave, but when I write, I can slay dragons. 
    I am not powerful, but when I write, I can move mountains.
    I am not outspoken, but when I write, my words stir masses.
    I am ordinary, but when I write, I stand out.
    With just three simple ingredients- my imagination, a pen, and some paper- I can defy reality and create dimensions where none of my problems exist. I can be noticed. I can feel special and unique and comfortable.
    It's as simple as that- I write to escape all of painfully bland restrictions of the real world. And I hope that through my creations, you can, too.

We Miss You, Sport!

Rise Together, Fall Together

    May, 2019
    The team is interspersed across the field in an elaborate web, all crouching in varying states of apprehension, leather gloves open and waiting. I am standing in the center of the diamond, forehead sweating underneath the nylon straps of my pitcher's mask. I am flanked by Mackenzie on first and Dublyn on third, Madison directly behind me on second. Grace's eyes, the eyes of my best friend, stare directly at me from under the heavy cage of catcher's gear that she wears. Her glove is open, just above home plate. My gaze threatens to focus on the batter's figure, menacing and ominous, metal bat raised above her shoulder, but my friend's eyes connect with mine, and we speak with silent dialogue in the way that only best friend's can.
    Don't look at her. Focus on the plate. Aim for my glove. You've got this.
    
I give her the slightest of nods, which she returns....

Geometry

    Today, my classmates took me aside to teach me Geometry. It wasn't the type of Geometry we learned in school, but the lesson was interesting nonetheless. Apparently, ovals are better than circles. Thin is better than thick. Skinny is better fat.
    I didn't know that. Did you know that?
    My friends filled me in; they pointed out which shapes were superior, and which weren’t as people walked past us.
    Bad, they said in response to a girl with a round silhouette.
    Good, they said about a woman with a skeletal frame.
    They also gave me a brief lesson in English; they taught me that ‘starvation’ was just another synonym for ‘beauty’, and that ‘beauty’ was a synonym for ‘valuable’. It doesn’t say that in the Thesaurus, (I looked it up), but I guess they must know what they’re talking about.
    Huh. Strange. Before today, I didn’t even think about some shapes being better than others; before today,...

Flash Fiction Competition 2020

Opening Night

    The curtain rises and the spotlight flicks on. My heart leaps into my throat as it’s beam sweeps toward me. For a moment, time stands still as it’s light illuminates my face; the theater's silence swells like the last breath a diver takes before breaking the surface of the water.
    The spotlight swoops past me to settle on the lead character, who is signaling the beginning of a musical number by singing a long, clear note. I sigh and shift my tree costume so it lies more comfortably across my shoulders and think, "Ah well. Maybe next year."

Inventory

Laurie Adler

In Laurie Adler's admittedly cluttered book bag, you will find...

- a map of the city she lives in, marred by squiggles, x's, and circles drawn in red and black ink.
- the ink pens that made the aforementioned marks, their ink leaking onto the other contents of the bag.
- a well read book with wrinkled, dog-eared pages entitled, "Quantum Physics and the Theory of Time Travel" by Dr. Albert Schneider.
- several crinkled leafs of note book paper, crammed with equations and diagrams that make no sense.
- a battered flip phone, scuffed, outdated, but still functional.
- a tea bag, still dry and unused, for emergency situations.
- a newspaper clipping, folded up but still nicely preserved, that reads, 'August 27th, 2041- Well Known Scientist Goes Missing After Dangerous Experiment Goes Awry'
-  a pair of reading glasses, their lenses smudged with fingerprints.
- a wallet, stuffed with hundreds of twenty dollar bills.
- a small pocket watch...

Flash Fiction Competition 2020

Opening Night

    The curtain rises and the spotlight flicks on. My heart leaps into my throat as it’s beam swoops toward me. For a moment, time stands still as it’s light illuminates my face, the theater's silence swelling like the last breath a diver takes before breaking the surface of the water.
    The spotlight passes over my face to settle on the lead character, who is signaling the beginning of a musical number by singing a long, clear note. I sigh and shift my tree costume so it lies more comfortably across my shoulders and think, "Ah well. Maybe next year."

Synapses

Break the Rules

Title: Break the Rules

Tagline: Rules are made to be broken.

Genre: Any

While things like grammar, punctuation, and capitalization are great guidelines for writers and should be used on a regular basis, sometimes rules are made to be broken. Some of the best authors of our time have created amazing stories and characters by breaking the rules of writing; from Hagrid's improper grammar throughout the Harry Potter series to Dr. Seuss's nonsensical vocabulary, many popular works of literature have proven that sometimes, bending the rules is a great way to add emphasis to your writing piece. In order to respond to this prompt, break some of the major rules of writing while writing a poem, a short story, a piece of flash fiction, or anything else you can dream up! This could include writing a poem with no capitalization, telling a story from a second person perspective, or narrating a story with improper grammar in order to develop the...

People as Nature

I Am Storm

    I am the gentle symphony of rain on the rooftops, comforting you and putting you to sleep. I am the cool, even blanket of grey that covers the cerulean sky. I am the peace of a rainy day.
    I am the thin mist that beads on your skin and dampens your hair as you walk down the street- strange, but surprisingly pleasant. I am the soft, cool breeze that smells of fresh rain water and Easter lilies. I am the serenity of an iron clad sky- I will not beg to be acknowledged.
    But at the heart of my steel clouds, I am churning. I am angry. You grow comfortable with my gentle showers and believe that that is all I am capable of, that I am no more than a soft breeze, a thin drizzle. I am longing to break free of my chains in the sky; someday, I say to myself. Someday,...

People as Nature

I Am Storm

    I am the gentle symphony of rain on the rooftops, comforting you and putting you to sleep. I am the cool, even blanket of grey that covers the cerulean sky. I am the peace of a rainy day.
    I am the thin mist that beads on your skin and dampens your hair as you walk down the street- strange, but surprisingly pleasant. I am the soft, cool breeze that smells of fresh rain water and Easter lilies. I am the serenity of an iron clad sky- I will not beg to be acknowledged.
    But at the heart of my steel clouds, I am churning. I am angry. You grow comfortable with my gentle showers and believe that that is all I am capable of, that I am no more than a soft breeze, a thin drizzle. I am longing to break free of my chains in the sky; someday, I say to myself. Someday,...

Refuge

What Is Refuge?

Refugemugs of coffee clenched between cold and weathered hands; umbrellas deflecting rain that yearns to beat tattoos against bared shoulders; hot meals that are drizzled with the syrup of contentment; closed doors and air that is ballooning with peace; a circle of friends where you can be as weird as you want to be; feather-light whispers, "We're going to be okay"; the shadows that fall like rippling satin against the floor at dusk; the hot summer breeze that blankets you in security; the breath between breaking the surface of the water and diving back in again; the worn teddy bear whose button eyes have seen your torment and whose fraying fur has absorbed your tears; the comforting predictability that accompanies each word of a well-read book; the familiarity of your parents embrace; refuge is both the little things that provide comfort for seconds, and havens that have existed for your entire life. 

Beyond Reason

finding eden

how do you find the place where the air smells like roses and honey and the water is melted diamonds, a place where the stars shine twice as bright?
is there a haven far from the wreckage of our world, where the innocent and pure of heart lay down to sleep in thick, green grass? 
where is the garden ripe with velvet blooms, a refuge that shows us what the earth ought to be?
how do you leave the troubles of this earth behind?

how do you find the garden when dark clouds of hate and injustice obscure the horizon?
how do you hold on to the hope that we will one day find eden while the uncertainty and violence that plague our earth feel as if they're dragging you under roaring currents of unforgiving water?
how do you see the pinprick of light at the end of the tunnel while the smoke and fire dance before your eyes, taunting...

Writing Streak Challenge Week 1

Writing Streak Day 1 Week 1

Monday: 3/30/20
Breaking News: Local Girl Bakes Cookies Out Of Sheer Boredom
    During this trying time of self isolation and quarantine, there are two enemies we must keep at bay: COVID-19, and crippling boredom. In order to stave off the impending forces of lethargy, local girl Jane Lancaster, age 12, bakes snicker-doodle cookies for her family, who live in Ypsilanti, Michigan. 
    "I'm stuck here at home, and there is nothing I can do except make snicker-doodle cookies: mountains and mountains of snicker-doodle cookies," Jane says, peering around a heap of cookies that is growing at an alarming and rapid rate. 
    "Have you ever considered taking a break from baking snicker-doodle cookies?" Our reporter, Via Brookely, asks.
    "Oh, sure!" Jane pipes up immediately, brandishing her electric beater wildly in the air, spraying Via with flecks of cookie dough.
    "I have recently become interested in baking chocolate chip cookies!"