Ariel_

United States

All I want in life is to mold words beautifully, to have something worth contributing, to make the spaces between the soul and the heart resound warmly.

Message from Writer

Don't be afraid to write something that isn't good because playing around with it is the only way to get better. Also, criticism is a wonderful thing; it's when you get to crack your knuckles and become closer to being proficient.

Published Work

Five Beginnings

The Perfect Beginning

In 50 years, I never expected to be 10 years old for the third time.

The Last Letter

My Dearest Love, Friend, and Memory,

This is the last letter.
Over the years we've kept quite a broken correspondence, checking in and out once every year or so for 5 years since I moved away, but now it seems I have nothing more to offer you. I remember always holding you in the deepest regard and I always tried so desperately to make you laugh in elementary school. We would compete with eachother in everything and whenever you would talk to me I would always accidentally mock you because I was nervous...
How did everything change so much?

I always imagined I'd like to marry you one day. Now it seems I must tuck these memories away since our friendship seems to be no more. I don't begrudge you your choice because although I don't understand I still love you so much. Love. What a loaded word.

When I say "I love you," I mean, "You are my fondest...

The Unknown

I Don't Know

I don't know much about gentleness and honesty, but I imagine it to be like the same feeling of standing on the edge of the world looking into an endless abyss. I don't know much about that either. I know how to tell the truth about events, but being honest about them is entirely different because it is taking my cupped hand gently away from an eaten up and budding bloom at the center of myself. To be honest is to reveal something about yourself along with the facts, something I cannot bear, and something that frightens me to no end.

What little I know about honesty comes from the abruptness of anger or panic, but is it possible to give a piece of honesty wrapped in the gauze of gentleness or calm? Can two human beings reveal themselves while not wounded? Must it be our last words and final acts of desperation that teach us to be honest? 

The Unknown

I Don't Know

I don't know much about gentleness and honesty, but I imagine it to be like the same feeling of standing on the edge of the world looking into an endless abyss. I don't know much about that either. I know how to tell the truth about events, but being honest about them is entirely different because it is taking my cupped hand gently away from an eaten up and budding bloom at the center of myself. To be honest is to reveal something about yourself along with the facts, something I cannot bear, and something that frightens me to no end.

What little I know about honesty comes from the abruptness of anger or panic, but is it possible to give a piece honesty wrapped in the gauze of gentleness or calm? Can two human beings reveal themselves while not wounded? Must it be our last words and final acts of desperation that teach us to be honest? 

25 Words

A story

Fight through the pain. The boiling sadness touching your purple wound would condemn any person to forget the sweetness of their self sacrifice.

Poetry and Spoken Word Competition 2018

This Stretch of Universe

The road rolls out from under my sneakers;
dull and grey, it stretches infinitely
through the houses. The clouds
are pulled up into the sky

from mere string signed by the puppeteer of
heaven and His breath whispers through the fairy tree
with the sunlight lilting, the quiet singing,
and the leaves flickering

as the wind plucks them from their rest.
Cats saunter lazily, closing their eyes
as they watch the humans in their struggles.
Patient is the creation as it waits.

Moments cease for 6 minutes,
6 minutes do I walk,
and the old fence post sits there peacefully
as it observes each face of each day

like a maxim, or a proverb to learn from.
I've been the fool of proverbs
and the wise who doles out maxims,
but fences only observe and try to remain still.

The road rolls out from under a pale blue sky;
dull and grey, it carries my heavy tread
and keeps secret the...

Poetry and Spoken Word Competition 2018

This Stretch of Universe

The road rolls out from under my sneakers;
dull and grey, it stretches infinitely
through the houses. The clouds
are pulled up into the sky

from mere string signed by the puppeteer of
heaven. His breath whispers through the fairy tree
with the light lilting, the quiet singing,
and the leaves flickering

as the wind plucks them from their rest.
Cats saunter lazily, closing their eyes
as they watch the humans in their struggles.
Patient is the creation as it waits.

Moments cease for 6 minutes,
6 minutes do I walk,
and the old fence post sits there peacefully
as it observes each face of each day

like a maxim, or a proverb to learn from.
I've been the fool of proverbs
and the wise who doles out maxims,
but fences only observe and try to remain still.

The road rolls out from under a pale blue sky;
dull and grey, it carries my heavy tread
and keeps secret the tears...