CelestialNinja

United States

Hi!
she/her
15
fantasy and sci-fi
new fan of poetry
la piña es mi vida, mi amor
"They tried to bury us. They did not know we were seeds." - Mexican Proverb

Message from Writer

"Words gather desire inside your head
Gathering emotions, gathering feeling, gathering
Meaning, gaining a purpose other than being
Becoming something other than words, other than
Thoughts ricocheting through my mind breaking through to the
Outside, darting to others, creating a spark in their hearts
My words just start in my
Head but never end there

-They Never End There ✨

Published Work

Mid-May Grab Bag

A Surveilled Thought

  • a two-hundred word story starting and ending with identical sentences. (Awesome Sienna)

They were coming for him.
          He knew it. They would burst through his blue wooden door and take him away. The child clutched his pillow tightly as he waited on the edge of his bed. His sheets were thoroughly wrinkled; he hadn't thought to change them. Not after the many sleepless nights he had had. Not after the wonderous dreams had when he slumbered.
          His infringement was minor. Or so he thought. He hadn't stolen anything or killed. No, these thoughts were far out of the 8-year-old's mind. He simply wanted to dream. To go elsewhere other than the singular room he'd grown up in. Raised, rather, for he never grew up. He was taught, indoctrinated to believe it was for good. That he should have no other thoughts than theirs. But when he could think, when he...

The Red Cloth of the Sky

Red is the cloth the bright sky chose to wear,
As Sun flees the realm and Moon is received,
The color of gemstones, rubies so rare,
And a heart mended, but soon still aggrieved,
Flowers and fruits Nature warily shares,
And sickly sticky blood from its veins sieved,
Beware voracious flames that run amok,
Yet the hue of adventure, life, and luck.

 

The Lilac Canopy

Purple is the canopy above me,
The lilac blossoms and, beyond, the sky,
It is the color of dreams and faeries,
The color of a sorrowful goodbye,
A reminder of hope and gaiety,
The crushing glare of queens and rulers high,
A rarity that's powerful yet sweet,
Now is for us but was for the elite.

 

The Boundless Blue Sea

Blue is the boundless salty ocean waves,
That I frantically fight against, laughing,
The color of spirits that misbehave,
And the pale sky above us in the spring,
The deep cobalt berries my mother craves,
Yet from joyful to wistfulness I swing,
It also exists as a frog's warning,
Still, the color winners are adorning.

April Grab Bag

The Quiddity Quiz

  • a 200-word story that starts with the last text you sent. (by Ava Marie)
  • My last text: 'he still hasn't taken the quiz.'

         "He still hasn't taken the quiz?"
          He could hear the murmurs around him. Everyday at school, as he walked home, as he rang up customers at his father's shop. All of the the other freshmen had taken the quiz already. Everyone living person his age and above had. It was short, simple, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. What the quiz foretold... he physically couldn't survive the consequences if he failed.
          One morning he came to breakfast and found his parents crying. He wanted to ask why, but he was late for school so he bade them each farewell before heading downstairs into the shop. He normally unlocked the door with the hidden key and flipped the open sign, but...

April Grab Bag

The Quiddity Quiz

  • a 200-word story that starts with the last text you sent. (by Ava Marie)
  • My last text: 'he still hasn't taken the quiz.'

         "He still hasn't taken the quiz?"
          He could hear the murmurs around him. Everyday at school, as he walked home, as he rang up customers at his father's shop. All of the the other freshmen had taken the quiz already. Every living person his age and above had. It was short, simple, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. What the quiz foretold... he physically couldn't survive the consequences if he failed.
          One morning he came to breakfast and found his parents crying. He wanted to ask why, but he was late for school so he bade them each farewell before heading downstairs into the shop. He normally unlocked the door with the hidden key and flipped the open sign, but...

Brave the Storm... Or Don't

Clouds on the horizon say
A storm is coming. Prepare.
While you're stocking up on food,
I bought plane tickets.

Vision

To me, the world always was
Dull. They say happiness is
A state of mind, I say it's
My new eyeglasses

Find Me in the Drunken Wood (5 short poems)

Find me in the drunken wood
Where my screams ring clearer than the toll of bells
The trees shrink away from it, creatures don't dwell
In this land of hatred, all it repels
Until my voice runs hoarse and the night quells
My anger, my fears, that drew me to yell
Until all is quiet, night casts its spell
Of peace in the drunken wood


Find me in the drunken wood
Shrouded by the gnarled fingers of trees
The cricket's symphony echoes loudly as
Dappled deer graze and a gentle breeze
Rustles the fiery flowers, the moon whereas
Bathes in a deeper blue sky than the seas
Casting its net to lull us to sleep as it has
For eternity, so come dream in the drunken wood


Find me in the drunken wood
If you're ever so inclined, you should
Come talk to me and say goodbye
Pathetic, apologetic, for me you should cry
For the girl you never knew,...

Crossing Time (5 min stage play)

Crossing Time

By CelestialNinja

Note: This was written in a separate document in correct play format, but alas, it did not transfer the formatting to WtW.



Cast of Characters
LEVI ELVIN: A police officer and scrupulous investigator for the Department of Unlawful Magic Prevention (DUMP) in his late 30’s, early 40’s. Dressed as a casual warlock.
MOIRA SKYE: 16-year-old girl, somewhat sassy, but not girly in any way. She plays video games and has a sister that does the same. Casually dressed in a modernized witch's robe.


Scene
Interrogation room in the building of The Department of Unlawful Magic Prevention.

Time
The present.

ACT I
Scene 1

SETTING: The interrogation room is plain, nothing on the walls, only a door on stage right. On center stage, there is a metal table with a recording device in the center. On either side there are two chairs.

AT RISE: LEVI seats MOIRA and secures her hands (handcuffed) to the table. MOIRA is...

Never Far Enough

The first to brave the snowy mountain peaks
And dive to the darkest depths of the sea
But doubt and earnest give me harsh critiques
You say I’ve done enough, I disagree
I try to quiet my mind’s noisy shrieks
That what I do is not enough for me
Perhaps if I look back at what I’ve done
I might notice that I’ve already won

Find Me in the Drunken Wood (5 short poems)

Find me in the drunken wood
Where my screams ring clearer than the toll of bells
The trees shrink away from it, creatures don't dwell
In this land of hatred, all it repels
Until my voice runs hoarse and the night quells
My anger, my fears, that drew me to yell
Until all is quiet, night casts its spell
Of peace in the drunken wood


Find me in the drunken wood
Shrouded by the gnarled fingers of trees
The cricket's symphony echoes loudly as
Dappled deer graze and a gentle breeze
Rustles the fiery flowers, the moon whereas
Bathes in a deeper blue sky than the seas
Casting its net to lull us to sleep as it has
For eternity, so come dream in the drunken wood


Find me in the drunken wood
If you're ever so inclined, you should
Come talk to me and say goodbye
Pathetic, apologetic, for me you should cry
For the girl you never knew,...

The Land of Endless Wonder

     Mama used to sing to me. I’d ask her what the world was like outside our home, our secluded bubble. She’d chuckle and her reply was always the same, no matter how much I goaded her for more. She would say, “It’s endless wonder, Maribel. As far as the eye can see.”
     And for years, I was satisfied with that answer. Endless wonder. It could have been anything at all and my mind encouraged that. I imagined my own ‘endless wonder’: Cities in the sky, underwater, mermaids, faeries, ships guiding me through the stars, sparks flying from my fingertips at the bare mention of a spell. And when I told Mama what I thought, she would smile and hold me in her arms, her warmth and the smell of orange blossoms permeating my senses. I was only eight years old. That was the first time I heard her song:

There’s a realm of shadow and light ...

Wistful Wildflowers

There's a field of flowers flowing in the breeze
Wistfully bending to wayward wind
And though they bend and dance with ease
These dancers legs, their stems, are thin.

Too easily could they break against
The belligerent battering bullets of rain
But never can they say they've sensed
What Nature feels for them: Disdain.

Though they flutter their petals reverently
They know that Nature has made them frail
They tense for the storm, evidently
Alone they must wistfully brave the gale.

they never end there

Words gather desire inside your head
Gathering emotions, gathering feeling, gathering
Meaning, gaining a purpose other than being
Becoming something other than words, other than
Thoughts ricocheting through my mind breaking through to the
Outside, racing to others, striking a chord in their hearts
My words just start in my
Head but never end there

Sijo

The Moon In You

The night sky is what brought us together, everlasting moonlight
You’ve been gone for a while now, but I still catch myself staring up
Up at the dark sky, looking at the moon, but always seeing you.

Fortune of the Fools

May we always wish for
Fortune to befall fools
Always wanting more, and
Favor breaking the rules.
The fools fight for change, the
Foolish just need the tools.

wHaT iS pOeTrY (please read footnote)

What is poetry?
No one ever told me
A set definition of what it has to be
What writing it entails, the counts, the melody
The rhymes, the beats, the energy

Perhaps five iambs should be hidden in
Each line, ignore the rhyme focus and count

Puzzles also Reside in some, although
Openly, they would dEny, just look and you might find
Existing pAtterns some intentional, others not but
Maybe if you could finD me, I wouldn't have to hide

Some don't hide anything at all, they're just a display,
Just words on a page, relaying information in a 'poetic' way, if it could
be called that at all, maybe a continuous thought would
help me recall why I'm writing this at all why
stall with my scrawl when we could get to the end of it all

I like to focus on the second half of the word:
Try. Try to think, to express, to
Relay a message to ...

The Key to the Gate of Dreams

The key to the gate of dreams is always out of reach
Hovering above the pit of nightmares the only
Elegant item held in my personal Tartarus because I can’t
Keep it, no, my dreams must be protected from prying
Eyes so each morn I lock the gate I throw it in to mingle with monsters
Yet, each night I try to fetch it out. Sometimes I
Do make it past the nightmares, the all-consuming fears
Other times I’m sucked into a mass of deadly tentacles only to
Emerge the next morn, unscathed but scarred from my battles with my sheets
Sometimes I’m too afraid to face them at all, catching a glimpse and deciding
Not to wade into war once more for fear that this time I might drown.
Only a good dream can make this terror flee, one filled with the
Twinkles of shooting stars through my mind’s sky, the chiming laughter of
Faeries dancing through the grass,...

Mid-March Grab Bag

The Silence

  • about what the earth would say if it could speak. (by sophie_simile)
The noise. The constant sound of humans drowns my tranquil hums. The
Honks of their daffodil-tinted taxis, the alerting squaks of their
Electronics replace the chirps of my crickets, their incessant 
Speech, never learning to be quiet and enjoy the symphony
I conduct each day and night for no one else but them. They’re
Leeches, no, worse than my beloved leeches, using my resources,
Even stooping so low as to pollute me with their waste and the
Noise... I drench them with my oversized tears because nothing ever stops.
Clattering, banging, whirring, I wish it would all go away! And...
Eventually... it does. Little by little, the noise vanishes, a 
Haunting silence fills their cities. I can no longer hear their buzzing phones
And their screeching cars but my buzzing bees and screeching owls, their song hidden
Underneath the bustle of the human’s city life for...

The Key to the Gate of Dreams

The key to the gate of dreams is always out of reach
Hovering above the pit of nightmares the only
Elegant item held in my personal Tartarus because I can’t
Keep it, no, my dreams must be protected from prying
Eyes so each time I lock the gate I throw it in to mingle with monsters
Yet, each night I try to fetch it out. Sometimes I
Do make it past the nightmares, the fears that attempt to consume me
Other times I’m sucked into a mass of deadly tentacles only to
Emerge the next morning, unscathed but scarred from my battles with my sheets
Sometimes I’m too afraid to face them at all, catching a glimpse and deciding
Not to wade into war once more for fear that this time I might drown.
Only a good dream can make this terror flee, one filled with the
Twinkles of shooting stars through my mind’s sky, the chiming laughter of
Faeries...

A Curtain of Honey

Imagine a place that's so sweet
Obscured by a honeyed curtain
Tempting us forward, it's certain
It can keep us entranced, we eat
Never glancing around, deceit
Oh curtain, you hide famine, war
Death, destruction, we ignore
What's hidden treacherously we
Are blinded by you, think we're free
And when you're gone, there's nothing more

Elements of the Universe

Even the universe, as
Large as it seems has something small holding it together, an
Elastic band stretching as far as it needs to go and
Maybe it will snap one day, I won't be around to see it but what about the
Elements within, at stasis, at status quo like a 
Nightingale waiting to perch on an occupied branch, holding back
The song it wished to sing until it can catch its breath, the
Same could go for anything at all, a seemingly endless wait
Often ends before we reach the reward, but if it's not a reward, do we
Fear it, run away like an animal from a fire, a primitive
Turn and run instead of facing what we inevitably must... But we
Have always done this before, abandoning our perch rather than
Engineering a solution, instead of waiting to see the rest of what the
Universe has to offer. Each element is unique, having its own place ...

Spiteful Moon

To the spiteful moon, why do you
Hide as if you're innocent, prey hiding from predator
Electing to play a virtuous being though you have
Malicious intent, when in fact you are the predator
Often stalking us as we bask in your glow, as soon as your brother's
Ocher light leaves the world you pounce, leaving us
None the wiser, entrancing us with your beguiling
Hue, we turn a blind eye to your deeds
And when daylight returns once more, your brother,
The truly virtuous one, takes blame for your actions
Ever bottling away his disdain for you. Do you know that
Should he hold something back too long he ignites? He used
To be your twin, a faint azure hued moon, but now he
Has burst into flame from your pressure. He couldn't
Edify you to know his pain, for your guilt doesn't
Show so suddenly, so publicly, you've adapted,
Unified it with your image, your craters your ever...

Elements of the Universe

Even the universe, as
Large as it seems has something small holding it together, an
Elastic band stretching as far as it needs to go and
Maybe it will snap one day, I won't be around to see it but what about the
Elements within, at stasis, at status quo like a
Nightingale waiting to perch on an occupied branch, holding back
The song it wished to sing until it can catch its breath, the
Same could go for anything at all, a seemingly endless wait
Often ends before we reach the reward, but if it's not a reward, do we
Fear it, run away like an animal from a fire, a primitive
Turn and run instead of facing what we inevitably must... But we
Have always done this before, abandoning our perch rather than
Engineering a solution, instead of waiting to see the rest of what the
Universe has to offer. Each element is unique, having its own place ...

My Speeches Never Spoken

(It's more of a spoken word done pretty quickly)
And... they're gone
My speeches never spoken
Each sentence is broken
They can't reach anyone
Beseech me for them
Yet they're tightly locked away
Socked away
Blocked from daylight
These words meant for a fight
Can't tell left from right
They're left, left behind in the dust
Their gleam turned to rust
Someone remind me what to say
Please just teach me how to slay
My fears
The monster rears on the attack
I can't fight back with
My weapon out of sight
My words held back tight
With them gone I think I might
Cry
So I write despite the fact that I
Want to be heard, remembered
But instead I surrendered
Rendered my own words
Useless
Because I don't have the nerve to
Speak

Pause.
Is this what is running through my head?
My words never said? I just write in their stead?
What happens to words never spoken? ...

March Grab Bag

never regretting but always looking back

  • an acrostic poem (in which each letter spells out a word or phrase) with your username (by BriRiley)
Combing through experiences searching for something to
Ease my mind through these different times
Let memories wash over me taking me
Everywhere I have been before but can no longer
See: the places, the people, the experiences
That have shaped me, molded me, twisted me
Into the person I am today
All the exciting, the embarrassing, all of the
Lively all of the lackluster
Never regretting but always looking back on why
I am me
Not someone else, who I am tomorrow forever
Just out of reach, I just have to wait
And see what I become next.

The Nowhere (5/5)

     It is always noisy here. Every million years, all the Astral beings come together in the Nowhere: a place free of time, of space, of anything except for pure thoughts. It is here where their minds come together. The minds of the mechanics, of the candlemakers, the painters, the Creators, the scribes, every Astral Being in one place, their thoughts melded into one. 
     And inside was chaos, each individual thought vying for attention. They screamed at each their ideas for the newest era of universes.
     "This one shouldn’t have humans. They’re boring to write about"
     "I want to try a monochrome world. I have some wonderful new shades of gray."
     "Stars, just choose something. I have to get back to my candles."
     "Be quiet, you know there’s no time here."
     "I have something new." 

     Every mind went silent except for the mechanic. They were...

done (25 word prompt)

Lexi sits in a café. She feels her phone buzz. She reads the message.

“Your father has passed.”

She smiles and replies swiftly. “Nice job.”

The Mechanic/The Wires (4/5)

     A wire trailed through the machine carrying its minute charge to the motherboard. The charge passed through the wire to another and another, the system finally drawing to a close as it neared the brain. But before it reached its destination, it dropped. It died.
     The mechanic inspected his creation: over 7 trillion wires all working together, just in one system of the machine. That didn’t even include the different parts which had gone into all of the necessary subsequent systems. 
     But the wires had always given him trouble. No matter how many he added, in numerous configurations, his prototype never came to life. At least, not in the way it was meant to. 
     He considered moving on. Starting anew. But this was the first prototype he’d ever built that didn’t seem to work. However he built it, never more than ten percent of the neurons were lit up at a time....

25 Words

Her Hair

Her hair was her shield, her confidence, her pride, curls and all.

Something else has claimed it now.

But it never came from her hair.

My Speeches Never Spoken

And... they're gone
My speeches never spoken
Each sentence is broken
They can't reach anyone
Beseech me for them
Yet they're tightly locked away
Socked away
Blocked from daylight
These words meant for a fight
Can't tell left from right
They're left, left behind in the dust
They're gleam turned to rust
Someone remind me what to say
Please just teach me how to slay
My fears
The monster rears on the attack
I can't fight back with
My weapon out of sight
My words held back tight
With them gone I think I might
Cry
And sink into its bite.

Pause.
Is this what is running through my head?
My words never said? Are they injured? Dead?
What happens if words are never spoken?
Do they shrivel up and die? Turn to tears as we cry?
Perhaps released in a sigh, a short breath conveys
Everything we want to say, a message tries to find its way
Out
But...

The Scribe (3/5)

He wrote. And he wrote.  From the beginning of time, it was all he did. He recorded every majestic deed of rulers, every traitorous act of charlatans. He described anything as large as an ice-age to anything as minor as a single olive tree atop a hill. He recorded a tome for everything in the universe, whether it was humanoid or a flitting moth.
            When the Dilemma came, he recorded that too. As the lives ended, he wrote Fin at the end of each book. They were ended, all of them, one by one until his infinite lecterns became empty. Everything in the cosmos, recorded. His notes would be reference material for when a Creator began the world anew.
            For now, he began to cross into another universe. It wasn’t unheard of for a scribe to take an apprentice from a dead world.
            Then he stopped, blinded. A single light twinkled from across his universe. His universe...

The Painter

     To fill the world with color; it’s an arduous task. Color breathes life unto the world, in turn many are ungrateful for what seems so basic. Without her palette, her endless colors, her myriad of different brushes, everything would be the same: a pale nothingness. 
     She never used the same color. For each new item she swirled pearlescent pinks, ravishing reds, blues that easily outmatched the sky and the ocean, which were the first colors she had ever mixed
     As each new universe began, she started with more and more colors from her previous worlds. In turn, each new one was brighter than the last.
     She turned back to her palette, preparing to mix a new color: a vibrant orange for a new hybrid plant the insignificant humans had ‘discovered’. But right then, a breeze blew, all her hard-earned paints splattering into a nearby nebula. A woman carefully tending to the stars...

Winter Never Came

Was there ever an odder winter than,
The one where snow refused to coat the ground,
Stale air subdued the bitter season's winds,
Silence replaced its normal whistling sound.

Light pierced the clouds suspended over head,
Em'rald leaves still clothed the twisted trees
Instead of wilting, flower petals bloomed
As they awaited visits from the bees.

The days remained as long as those in Spring,
the unforgiving weather fully masked,
When Mother Earth demanded winter come, 
Nature answered, "The time for snow has passed."

The Painter

     To fill the world with color; it’s an arduous task. Color breathes life unto the world, in turn many are ungrateful for what seems so basic. Without her palette, her endless her colors, her myriad of different brushes, everything would be the same: a pale nothingness. 
     She never used the same color. For each new item she swirled pearlescent pinks, ravishing reds, blues that easily outmatched the sky and the ocean, which were the first colors she had ever mixed
     As each new universe began, she started with more and more colors from her previous worlds. In turn, each new one was brighter than the last.
     She turned back to her palette, preparing to mix a new color: a vibrant orange for a new hybrid plant the insignificant humans had ‘discovered’. But right then, a breeze blew, all her hard-earned paints splattering into a nearby nebula. A woman carefully tending to the...