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Riley Noel

United States

Adventurer
Daydreamer
Future horse trainer
IMF Agent
Rebel Spy
Demon Hunter
Possible Demigod
Maybe a Shadowhunter
A proud Gryffindor
Dean and Sam Winchester (older brothers)
In love with
Bucky Barnes
Indiana Jones

Message from Writer

Just an 18-year-old, lover of books, horses, action movies, Marvel Superheros, travel, and food! Trying to find a name for myself and spread my love of the world to everyone I can. I hope my work inspires you to laugh, love, and most importantly to live life beautifully (even if it's messy:)

We call our ships 'She.' We call our war machines "Women." We compare women to Black Widows and Vipers. And you're going to tell me it's not "lady-like" to scream, to take up space, to fight and demand respect and do whatever the hell I want. You've looked at Nuclear bombs and been so in awe that you could only name them after women. Don't try to down-play my power. -Anonymous

Published Work

The Boy

There is a little boy who sits in the back,
away from the noise. 
Though he may look like he’s not paying attention, 
he really is.
He’s watching ants paint the walls a lime green color. 
And smiling at the bears gracefully dancing with the swans
across the chalkboard. 
He does his work in a rush, 
the lines filled in swirly cramped handwriting. 
His eyes look far away
because he’s soaring over Mt. Everest. 
Try not to laugh,
or poke fun. 
If you don’t see the world the way he does.
Just smile and wave, 
that will be enough.

Turned to Stone

My Star

   Sunlight danced along my pillow as it filtered through my pale curtains. I pulled the covers over my head as a voice groaned softly by my ear. 
" Good-morning doll," he said. He wrapped his arm tighter around me pulling me closer to his warm body. I giggled softly curling into his embrace. 
 " You know I was thinking," he said softly. " Why don't we just run away somewhere for the day". 
"Where would we go?" I asked. 
"Anywhere," he said. I twisted around so I could face him. His soft blue eyes were pleading, his wavy blonde hair was messily thrown, but his smile was bright and mischiefs. He propped himself up on his elbow, tucking a strand of my chocolate brown hair away. 
"Maybe if we run they won't find us, " he said. I blinked.
" Who won't find us?" His smile dipped and his eyes flicked to the wall behind me. 
" Don't forget I love...

Before You

There was once a time I believed in love.
In early morning kisses,
and late night promises.
In flowers left at my door,
and sticky note love letters.
When I met you my world changed. 
My days got brighter,
my nights got longer.
My heart beat stronger,
and my soul became inspired. 
When you left you took a piece of me with you. 
The part of me I gave to you
I could never get back.
Suddenly the things I had loved with you,
turned into things I could not stand. 
I hated the night,
fore I dreamed of your smile.
I hated the morning,
for reminding me you were gone.
My heart beat slower,
my soul became a wasteland.
I used to believe in love,
but that was before you loved me. 

Temple Love

Your body is my temple.
Your footsteps are my holy ground.
Your touch is a sin I willingly commit. 
Your kiss is a forgiveness I do not deserve. 
Though you give them to me freely. 
I come to you with no gifts,
save the love of my heart.
And though others have come to your door,
with piles of gold,
pages of flowery words, 
and beauty beyond compare;
you chose me. 
And I will never understand
why someone who has walked with Gods,
could possible love a mortal soul like mine.
But I promise to worship that love for all of my life. 

Writer

Sometimes its hard to be a writer.
When the words start to pile up at 2 am,
and the voices in your head start screaming to be let out.
So you toss away any notion of sleep,
with a fistful of covers.
As you scramble for a pen,
and the back of a crumpled piece of paper.
ignoring the light switch
you know you won’t be able to find.
Crouching on the one patch of floor lit by the stars.
And you write.
The words flow so fast you’re no longer sure what your writing, 
but you have to get it down to appease the voices yelling in your head. 
Eventually you run out of paper.
So you scribble words onto the backs of your hands and up your arms.
Palaces grow and oceans destroy at each bend of your knees.
Old Gods die and new ones rise on the bottoms of your feet.
And when you're done,
when the...

Young Sacrifice

The sky is painted black and grey.
The streets are filled with people screaming. 
As an ancient God throws himself at the shore.
His attack is relentless,
his waves are without mercy. 
Then I see a small girl race out to the beach,
despite the pleas of her mother,
and the warnings of her father. 
She stands barefooted on the murky sand. 
Her white dress billowing gracefully despite the gale winds. 
She faces the growing tsunami wave with her hands on her hips. 
And like the sacrifices of old,
 the ocean wraps its wrathful arms around her and drags her away. 
She does not scream or try to fight,
but instead smiles, 
and spreads her arms wide,
ready to embrace her doom. 
When she has disappered, 
the waves calm. 
The black grey sky gives way to blue.
And the people return to their homes. 
I search the water for her,
but she belongs to the ocean now. 
And just like...

Where I'm From

Where I'm from

I am from a one-stoplight town. 
I am from cornfields and watermelon smiles. 
I am from the backstretches of racetracks,
now long gone. 
I am from dusty barns and soft kisses. 
I am from the backseat of trucks and tractors. 
I am from peanut butter sandwiches for lunch,
and champagne glass dinners. 
I am made of suitcases and colored pencils. 
I am made of old books and hourglasses. 
I am made of long nights with the radio turned up, 
and early morning coffee cups. 
I am,
 50% hard work
30% writer
15% dreamer
5% gas station candy
Where i’m from has made me who I am.
Where I’m going has yet to be decided.  

One Sentence Poems

If the sea is a woman then she is the mistress that steals my husband away.

If I had known it was going to be our last dance, I would have picked a longer song. 

When I can’t sleep at night I wonder if its because your awake thinking of me.

The joy of falling was almost worth the pain of landing.

The back allies are no place for a little girl.

It's not the coffin that's heavy, its the soul inside.

It's not the war I have nightmares about, but the peace that follows the war.

With every gunshot, another dream died.

The love that bound us was stronger thrn the sea that separated us.

Little Boy

There is a little boy who sits in the back,
away from the noise. 
Though he may look like he’s not paying attention, 
he really is.
He’s watching ants paint the walls a lime green color. 
And smiling at the bears gracefully dancing with the swans,
 across the chalkboard. 
He does his work in a rush, 
the lines filled in swirly cramped handwriting. 
His eyes look far away, 
because he’s soaring over Mt. Everest. 
Try not to laugh,
 or poke fun. 
If you don’t see the world the way he does.
Just smile and wave, 
that will be enough.

Strangers

As he walked out the door I heard myself whisper.
" good-bye, stranger.' And I guess thats poetic. We met as strangers, and that who we'll part. 
 

The Wall

The man came to the wall every night after work. He liked it at night. There was never any people, and the soft glow of the street lights illuminated the park just enough to read the names that had been carved for eternity. He walked slowly, his eyes trained on his feet. His dark suit jacket covered his marine tattoo, and his suit pants hid the shrapnel scars that decorated his legs. He stopped halfway down the wall and carefully looked up; his eyes found their names easily. He placed his hand over them, the cold marble seeping into his scared fingers. He closed his blue eyes as tears threatened to fall. Slowly as if a hand had reached out and turned back the clock, the humming of the traffic faded into the thrumming of helicopters, the low street lights expanded into the sweltering sunshine the cool air became thick and he could taste the humidity the cold wall was...

Cocktail

I am a dangerous cocktail. 
A bad mix of anxiety,
with a heaping shot of depression. 
A glass filled
with too much ice.
Guarding a heart,
that cares too much. 
I get served with the lonely night crowd.
The lost souls,
with nowhere else to go.
The ones like me.
They tell me their fears,
they whisper their dreams.
I can soothe their fears,
with a couple of shots.
And I can fan their dreams,
with a soft whisper.
But at the end of the night,
when the lights go off,
and the chairs are put away,
I'll sit alone.
Staring at my blank reflection,
cluching an empty glass.

The Vistas Beyond

Early Window View

 It's early the sun barely igniting the tips of the trees at the far end of the field. The horses are racing each other; tearing up the dew covered Earth as their bodies whip by each other. Their voices ripping through the silence of the morning, sending birds shooting for the sky and setting my heart on fire.

Five Endings

Endings

1) My hands are numb by the time I'm done. I slip the knife back into its sheath, before brushing the last of the wood dust away. The letters are sloppy and not straight but, its the best I can do. I pick up the wooden cross and stand, ignoring the snow that has started to fall. She would have liked it here, at least that's what I tell myself as I pound her cross into the mostly frozen ground.  I softly kiss the tips of my frozen fingers and brush them across her name.
"Good-bye mom we're going to build a better life here all of us, and years from now they'll tell our story."

2)"I'm sorry," I whisper. Achilles just smiles up at me. His body is covered in sand and blood, his armor long stripped away. Tears run down my face as I lift my dagger higher. 
"Its okay Kiria, he whispers back. "It was an honor to have...

Hands

Men march with feet of ice.
A trail of red follows them.
With bleak faces,
they march.
Hands that tremble with a frozen death.
Hands that used to till the soft earth.
Hands that used to bend metal over a fire.
Hands that used to break colts and raise lambs.
Hands that used to hold a sleeping child.
Hands that used to hold a lover.
Now they hold death,
in a never-ending embrace.

Invented Cartography

Lethe

Lethe is a tough country, they say only the strong survive. The harsh northern winds howl over green rolling hills, and the  sheer grey cliffs of her western shore. A shore that does battle each day with the oceans great waves. The people who live here don't know what a ship looks like, for none dare dock in her unguarded shores.To the north is a maze of snow capped mountains, where little grows. The people who live here are rumored to practice ancient magic, in there secret mountain homes. The eastern side is gentler and warmer, filled with wild green meadows, that horses thunder through. Here the shoreline is protected, with gentler waves that welcome ships. Although the northern wind blows here too, it is a softer cold, more forgiving. At the southern edge a lush forrest grows, filled with streams, and animals that roam free and unafraid. Travelers from the lands beyond Lethe have wrote that it seems that...

Turned to Stone

My Star

   Sunlight danced along my pillow as it filtered through my pale curtains. I pulled the covers over my head as a voice groaned softly by my ear. 
" Good-morning doll," he said. He wrapped his arm tighter around me pulling me closer to his warm body. I giggled softly curling into his embrace. 
 " You know I was thinking," he said softly. " Why don't we just run away somewhere for the day". 
"Where would we go?" I asked. 
"Anywhere," he said. I twisted around so I could face him. His soft blue eyes were pleading, his wavy blonde hair was messily thrown, but his smile was bright and mischiefs. He propped himself up on his elbow, tucking a strand of my hair away. 
"Maybe if we run they won't find us, " he said. I blinked.
" Who won't find us?" His smile dipped and his eyes flicked to the wall behind me. 
" Don't forget I love you," he...

Cocktail

I am a dangerous cocktail. 
A bad mix of anxiety,
with a heaping shot of depression. 
A glass filled
with too much ice.
Guarding a heart,
that cares too much. 
I get served
with the lonely night crowd.
The lost souls.
with nowhere else to go.
The ones like me.
They tell me their fears and,
they whisper their dreams.
I can soothe their fears,
with a couple of shots.
And I can fan their dreams,
with a soft whisper.
But at the end of the night,
whe the ights go off,
adn the chairs are put away,
I'll sit alone.
Staring at my blank reflection,
cluching an empty glass.

Turned to Stone

My Star

   Sunlight danced along my pillow as it filtered through my pale curtains. I pulled the covers over my head as a voice groaned softly by my ear. 
" Good-morning doll," he said. He wrapped his arm tighter around me pulling me closer to his warm body. I giggled softly curling into his embrace. 
 " You know I was thinking," he said softly. " Why don't we just run away somewhere for the day". 
"Where would we go?" I asked. 
"Anywhere," he said. I twisted around so I could face him. His soft blue eyes were pleading, his wavy blonde hair was messily thrown, but his smile was bright and mischiefs. He propped himself up on his elbow, tucking a strand of my hair away. 
"Maybe if we run they won't find us, " he said. I blinked.
" Who won't find us?" His smile dipped and his eyes flicked to the wall behind me. 
" Don't forget I love you," he...

#tenwords

His eyes burned with fire and he tasted like smoke.

Egypt Bound!!

Hello all my amazing followers!!! 
I am just writing his to tell you that I am getting on a plane in two hours headed for Egypt!! I will be gone for two weeks and will have minimal internet access. I will be going on a guided tour of all the major sites as well as meeting leading Archeologists and historians! I am so excited I can’t wait :) Anyway I will try to write some stuff when I can! 
             Good bye for now!!
             Adventure awaits ✈️

Monsters

Mama, are monster real?
Of course they are darling.
They lurk in the dark woods where,
 gurgling brooks hide their victim's screams.
They mingle in dark alleys,
lighting cigarettes with their fingers.
They stand at street corners,
watching for prey.
Is that why we don't go out a night?
No child, you see monsters don't prey on us.
They prey on predators. 
Those men foolish enough to
hide their victim's bodies in the woods.
The ones how lurk in dark alleys,
waiting to start a fight. 
The men how use the street,
as their hunting ground. 
So monsters only hunt other monsters?
Yes my love.
So as long as you became a good man,
the monsters will never harm you. 

Choice

They asked me to pick a side.
It's us,
or them. 
I tried to see
which was right, 
and which was wrong. 
But I couldn't.
Both sides seemed,
the same. 
They became impatient,
demanding I choose. 
I searched each one
for a glimmer of evil.
But found none. 
So I tossed a coin.
I watched it flip
around,
and around, 
until it landed
heads up. 
So I stood with a side
that was no better than the other.
And oh how I wished fate
had never made me chose.
 

Ask The Writer!!

Alright, I'm jumping on the bandwagon! I love learning new things about the people around me, especially people that I consider my friends (and maybe co-writers one day!). So you can ask me anything you want, about anything you want. You can ask me why I love writing, any questions you have about horseracing ( I race Standerbreds), how many siblings I have, my favorite superheroes, my best childhood memory, or my worst, my first crush, my inspiration for any of my works! I will post the answers in about a week or so! I can't wait to see your questions!!

Not Used To

There's a girl sitting alone on a bench. 
Her brown eyes fixed on a place,
only she can see. 
if you want, 
you can walk up to her and say hi.
She'll smile and say hi.
You can sit down,
she won't mind. 
If you start a conversation,
she'll only give short answers,
with a smile and a laugh.
You might have to do most of the talking at first.
She'll talk more eventually,
shes just not used to people listening.
She won't tell you this, 
because she's afraid you won't care but,
she loves the sky. 
She loves old books,
and ancient Gods, 
she loves black holes,
and silly poems,
anything with meaning. 
If you bring any of these up, 
her eyes will start to sparkle
and she'll speak faster. If she starts to hesitate ,
encourage her to tell you more.
Shes so smart,
but no one ever listnes very long.
When you have to leave,
she'll smile and...

My Angel

He has been called many things, reaper, angel, guardian, guide, but I knew him as a friend. 
    The day I met him it was cold, snow was piled high along the roads and sidewalks. I was sitting in the park, abandoned at such a late hour, my back pressed up against a bench my hands clutching the stab wound in my stomach. I glanced down at the large pool of blood seeping into the snowy slush under me. My breath came out in short burst the cured up and away from me. My head was getting light my eyes, drifting closed. I had given up trying to move I couldn't and even if I tried to yell, no one was around to hear me. Through my bleary vision I saw a man coming up the sidewalk, he had a long black trench coat, buttoned against the cold, a thick felt hat pulled down low obscuring his face. At first, I thought...

Mad Libs

Character Study

Riley is an 18-year-old girl, who lives in New York. Known for being independent and creative, she wants nothing more than to travel the world seeking adventure. She pretends to be strong, when in fact, inside, she really feels stressed and afraid. Riley's biggest fear is failure.What Riley really needs is an adventure: the biggest thing getting in the way is herself.

The Peace of Wild Things

Wild Peace

When the world gets dark.
When I can no longer find my way.
When it seems I am simply spinning in circles, 
I go down to the meadow.
Away from the noise and the hustle of life.
Here wildflowers grow in great bouquets.
Their vibrant colors perfume the air,
so different than the smog of cars.
The grass grows to my waist in gentle green and golden yellows. 
I run my hands through it and close my eyes,
letting the sunlight recharge my heart.
Sometimes I run barefoot,
letting the grass whip my legs
and the rocks stab my feet,
the pain reminding me I am alive. 
I find peace in my wild place.
Sheltered from the world by pines and oaks,
 willows and hickories. 
When the sun sets low in the sky
I lay down and count the stars, 
tracing the constallations.
I wake covered in dew drops.
As I shake them off,
they take my pain with them.
I return to...

Peer Reviews

Hi guys,
I am trying to reach my goal of 1,000 peer reviews. I curently have 835, so I am a little short. So if any of you have pieces you want reviews on, poems, short stories, chapters, songs, whatever it is, just leave the title of your piece in the comments below and I will reiview it as fast as I can! You are more then welcome to leave more then one title in the comments, I will review every single one as best I can. I am really excited to read your guys work and reach my goal!

                                                Lots of love,
                                                     Riley Noel 

9:00

I remember you asking,
begging me to let you go.
It would be a quick trip,
you'd be there and back 
by nine.
I knew I shouldn't have let you go.
Because though my door opened at nine,
it wasn't you standing there.
It was a man in a uniform,
an apology on his face.
An accident,
he said. 
A drunk driver,
or maybe it was a distracted driver,
I don't remember anymore. 
All I remember,
is that he said he'd be back by nine.

Reborn

Today they broke my wings.
Tore out the feathers out one by one.
They ignored my screams of agony.
They set fire to what was left,
to ensure I could never fly again.
They drowned my eyes with water,
until they were sure my light had gone out.
They broke my legs and hands,
so I could not fight.
Then they left me broken and bloody,
ashes swirling around me.
But they forgot about my claws and fangs.
I dug through the ashes,
until I found one glowing ember
and rekindled the fire in my eyes.
I set my broken legs and rose again.
Not like a Pheonix
for I had no wings.
I was something different.
They killed the angel,
and woke the demon.







 

Not Used To

Theres a girl sitting alone on a bench. 
Her brown eyes fixed on a place,
only she can see. 
if you want, 
you can walk up to her and say hi.
She'll smile and say hi.
You can sit down,
she won't mind. 
If you start a conversation,
she'll only give short answers,
with a smile and a laugh.
You might have to do most of the talking at first.
She'll talk more eventually,
shes ust not used to people listning.
She won't tell you this, 
because shes afraid you won't care but,
she loves the sky. 
She loves old books,
and ancient Gods, 
she loves lack holes,
and silly poems,
anything with meaning. 
If you bring any of these up, 
her eyes will start to sparkle 
adn she'll speak faster. If she starts to hesitate ,
encourage her to tell you more.
Shes so smart,
but no one ever listnes very long.
When you have to leave,
she'll smile and...

Five Beginnings

5 Beginnings

I promised my mother I would write her story one day. And even if I have to carve it into the mountain cliffs, I will write it. 


The cell door opened with a loud clang. I sighed not bothering to sit up, "sorry boys my next beating session isn't until nine," I said pouring as much sarcasm as I could into my words, "you'll have to come back later".


The girl was rather plain it seemed. She was average height and thin, her long brown hair was braided down her back and her eyes were green like the summer grasses. But behind her plain features and small smile hid a mind that was anything but plain.

The doctors said it was an accident, no one was to blame, but there was nothing they could do. My parents cried but said, everything was going to be okay. I didn't know what to say. All I knew was that I had fallen...

Improbable Flavor

Adrenaline

Adrenaline taste like the first shot of whiskey at a corner bar. It hits your tongue in a firey splash, and sets your body buzzing. It taste like salty sweat that drips off your forehead and moistens your lips. It taste like coppery blood when you bite your fingertipsin anticapation. Its the inky taste of black coffee in the early morning,  a whole Red Bull in the afternoon, and a cold beer at night. It taste like dirt and dust, gravel and chalk. It taste like the absence of fear.

Midnight Bus

There was a man at the bus stop today, waiting for the midnight bus. He wore the night in his black coat and his sagging shoulders showed he carried the world. He was shuffling a deck of cards as I sat down; he didn't look up just kept breaking and rearranging the deck. 
 ”Where you headed?” he asks. His voice deep and lulling like an ocean wave.
 ”Anywhere but here, ” I say hoping my pain doesn't show in my wavering tone. He nods his eyes never leaving the cards.
 ” How about you?” He looks up the dim streetlight outlining his face like a halo, and his mouth forms a smile that reminds me if the trickster God. 
 ”Everywhere,” is all he says. His dark blue eyes pull me in like a riptide, my heart starts to flutter and my breath hitches. He look away just as I think I'm going to drowned. 
 ”They say the night is only...

You Guys Are Amazing!!

Wow, I just reached over 200 followers!!! I don't know what to say, the amount of support and love I receive from the people on this site is unlike anything else. You are all such amazing writers and kind people. I look forward every day to the time I get to spend on here, even if its just to read your work. My writing has grown so much since I joined this community, I am a better writer, editor, supporter, and friend because of all the love I receive from you. So to every single one of my followers, and to anyone that has ever liked, commented, or reviewed one of my writings, thank you. Thank you for always being there, for supporting me through my fails, and praising me for my triumphs. I would not be where I am today if not for you!
          
                        ...

More Six Word Stories

  1. He said I love you last.
  2. My guns empty. So is mine.
  3. A bottle, a car, a hospital. 
  4. A stranger, a friend, a lover.
  5. The sink water hid her tears.
  6. You promised you’d come back.
  7. One new voicemail, I’m so sorry.
  8. Reservations for two, only one chair. 
  9. She loves his broken halo.
  10. There were children inside that church.
  11. You fought well, now go home.
  12. They met this time only friends.

Time

I have heard the wayward wolf howl
at the northern moon
I have heard the banshees cry 
to the night owl
I have heard ten thousand footsteps echo
off the cavern floor
I have heard men's tortured dreams
whispered int he night
I have heard the sands 
shifting stories
I have seen the angels fly 
at dawns first light
I have seen the sirens beautiful faces
pressed against the waves 
I have seen the wild stallions of the plains
unbridled freedom
I have seen fairies dance 
among the sunlit leaves
I have smelled the smoke of a 
wildfires angry rage
I have smelled the gunpowder from
a murderers gun
I have smelled the perfume of 
the first desert rose
I have tasted true loves
first kiss
I have tasted a solders 
last meal
I have felt a 
hearts first beat 
and a hearts last

Time

I have heard the wayward wolf howl
at the northern moon
I have heard the banshees cry 
to the night owl
I have heard ten thousand footsteps echo
off the cavern floor
I have heard men's tortured dreams
whispered int he night
I have heard the sands 
shifting stories
I have seen the angles fly 
at daws first light
I have seen the sirens beautiful faces
pressed against the waves 
I have seen the wild stallions of the plains
unbridled freedom
I have seen fairies dance 
among the sunlit leaves
I have smelled the smoke of a 
wildfires angry rage
I have smell the gunpowder from
a murderers gun
I have smelt the perfume of 
the first desert rose
I have tasted true loves
first kiss
I have tasted a solders 
last meal
I have felt and 
hearts first beat 
and a hearts last

Sea Storm

Grey clouds warning of the coming battle.
The fighters prepare,
like boxers, 
waiting in their corners.
Their feet restless, 
back and forth. 
Their first hits, 
jabs testing, 
finding the others weakness. 
Faster and harder, 
bleeding rocks and foam. 
The gulls scream their wild cheers.
The oceans wild angry fury,
the shorelines steadfast defense. 
There is no winner, 
there never is.
Both slowly walk away, 
bruised and bloody. 
Calm returns. 
The ring is empty, 
all that is left are the scars, 
carved anew into 
each fighter's face.

Persophone

Lovley,
pure,
pretty,
young,
maiden.
Words used to describe the daughter I was.
Captive,
stolen,
corupted,
alone,
lost.
Words used to describe the wife I became.
But they are all twisted words,
told by those,
who dont like my stories ending.
Beautiful,
dangerous,
feared,
wise,
Queen.
 
 

Her Eyes

Her eyes were beautiful,
like dark amber honey,
dripping off a baguette.
Her eyes were lonely,
like sunlight flickering through,
a shot of whiskey.
Her eyes were soft,
like the worn out fur,
of a teddy bear's paw.
Her eyes were strong,
like the armor,
of a mighty oak.
Her eyes were pure,
as the life-giving dirt,
under her feet.
Her eyes were silly,
like chocolate covered smiles,
on Halloween night.
Her eyes held a thousand stories.
Her eyes were filled with,
love
and loss,
fear,
and bravery.
Her eyes were so much more then,
beautiful.

I'm Back!!!

Hi everyone!!
    I just wanted to say I'm sorry I haven't been on here recently, I have been going through a rough spot and needed to take a break from everything to collect myself. My family went through a major shift and for the first time writing didn't seem to help or make anything better. But, things are slowly falling into place; I have my own stable of racehorses, which is awesome but also a lot of work/responsibility, I officially graduated from school, my mother booked me a three week trip to Egypt ( i have wanted to go since I was 5), and we are almost moved into our new house ( almost!). I think I am ready to get back into my writing again and try to make sense of all these emotions I have swirling around, still, it might be slow. I will get back to reviewing and commenting on as many pieces as I can very soon.
Thank you...

Silence

Nobody told us it would be like this. Well, maybe they did and we were too young, too stubborn to listen. The heat and sand are bad enough, but it's the silence that scares me. Even in the towns are armored vehicles drive through, everything seems silent. Like the ground is tired, tired of war, and blood, and tears. I would've given anything if that day would've stayed silent if the silence hadn't been interrupted by a burst of gunfire and screams. But I think a different kind of silence is coming now, as my blood stains the sand.

The Jungle

    There is an ancient prophecy whispered through the wind, it tells of a time when forest will burn and one creature will rise up above all others and claim to be master of all life. It would take everything that the world had to offer, and create metal chains to bind creatures to its will. This creature would destroy that which had given it life. Through the years many creatures have forgotten the prophecy, but some have not, they whisper it to their children and fear the time has come to watch the world burn. 
    The birds herd it first, the whirring and crying of machines, the thundering crash as trees fell and the burning of the underbrush. They carried the message to the monkeys, their howling calls echoed as they swung faster and faster way from their fallen homes. The gorillas in their high mountain brush, heard the monkeys panicked shrieks and tore through the jungle in search of...

Midnight Bus

There was a man at the bus stop today, waiting for the midnight bus. He wore the night in his black coat and his sagging shoulders showed he carried the world. He was shuffling a deck of cards as I sat down; he didn't look up just kept breaking and rearranging the deck. 
 ”Where you headed?” he asks. His voice deep and lulling like an ocean wave.
 ”Anywhere but here, ” I say hoping my pain doesn't show in my wavering tone. He nods his eyes never leaving the cards.
 ” How about you?” He looks up the dim street light outling his face like a halo, and his mouth forms a smile that reminds me if the trickster God. 
 ”Everywhere” is all he says. His dark blue eyes pull me in like a riptide, my heart starts to flutter and my breath hitches. He look away just as I think I'm going to drowned. 
 ”They say the night is...

Open Prompt

Gladiator

The ruff leather cuts my skin as the straps are tightened, once the armor was heavy not anymore.
I can hear the crowds drunken whoops their merciless chants. The slave boy finishes 
And hands me my sword, I place it in my scabbard as the iron door rises. Two 
slave boys drag the mangled corpse of the soul who will dine with Hades
the winner limps in his eyes like stone he may have kept his heart beating 
But his soul has long been dead. My turn now to face the crowd and 
Whatever horrors they have concocted.

Given First Line

Ocean Dreams

Ships at a distance have every man's wish on board. 
“No,”  Eliza whispered scribbling out the words and throwing her pencil down in frustration. She rubbed her tired green eyes and glanced at the candle next to her, which had been reduced to a pile of melted wax, the wick barely staying lit. A cool autumn breeze brought the smell of the ocean and chimney smoke from the village into her small room. Suddenly the quiet morning air was interrupted by the banging of the dock bells. Eliza shot to her feet quickly glancing out the window where, out at the horizon, she could just glimpse the tall masts of the ships returning. Quickly blowing out her candle and pulling her faded woolen shawl around her shoulders she raced down the rolling green hill and out on to the sandy beach. The rest of the small village had gathered along the beach as well, waiting to greet their husbands, fathers,...

Power

She had eyes that shone with kindness and a silver tongue that could end any argument. But beware, for if she ever is angered her hands are carved for war.
 

Powerful Women

When people tell the stories of ancient times
ever notice how they seem to only speak of men.
Hercules with his great strength,
Persues with Peguses and Medusa's head,
Jason and his great ship,
Agamemnon and his vast army. 
But all those great men paled in comparison to Persephone,
queen of the dead.
And Helen,
the women who started a war with a simple smile.
Atlanta
the women who refused to bow to the will of men.
And Artmiss,
a woman sworn to no one save her own heart
When they tell you women are weak and powerless, 
when they tell you to sit and look pretty, 
and never open your mouth save to praise a man.
You remind them that your grandmothers were queens and huntresses.
You tell them the blood of witch’s and sorcerers runs through your viens.
Tell them a thousand years of power and strength runs through you 
and you will not sit down and be...

Food Writing Competition 2018

Grandma's Cookies.

    Christmas has always been my favorite time of year. From visiting friends and family to the amazing food, and everything in between. Christmas was also my Grandma's favorite holiday, she'd wait all year for December to roll around and then she'd transform her house into a winter wonderland of lights and decorations. And for that whole month, you could usually find her in the kitchen making something, pies, casseroles, hams, but her specialty was her families Christmas cookie recipe.
    The recipe was written on an yellowed, stained scrap of paper tucked in a dusty box that sat on the top shelf of one of the cupboards. My grandmother never needed to look at the recipe. She'd been making them since she was a little girl, and ever since I was old enough to sit on the counter and hold a wooden spoon I had been helping carry on the tradition. The cookies themselves were easy to make, but for a little...

Sea

If the sea is a woman then she is the mistresss that steals my husband away.

Food Writing Competition 2018

Grandma's Cookies.

Christmas has always been my favorite time of year. From visiting friends and family, to the amazing food, and everything in between. Christmas was also my Grandma's favorite holiday, she'd wait all year for December to roll around and then she'd transform her house into a winter wonderland of lights and decorations. And for that whole month, you could usually find her in the kitchen making something, pies, casseroles, hams,  but her specialty was her families Christmas cookie recipe. The recipe was written on an yellowed, stained scrap of paper tucked in a dusty box that sat on the top shelf of one of the cupboards. My grandmother never needed to look at the recipe shed been making them since she was a little girl, and ever since I was old enough to sit on the counter and hold a spoon I had been helping carry on the tradition. The cookies themselves were easy to make, but for a little wide-eyed girl...

25 Words

Last Goodbye

The soldier leaned over his sleeping wife and gently kissed her cheek. Soundlessly he gathered his weapons, only pausing at the door to whisper goodbye.

For the Future

Dear Great-Grandchildren

Dear future Great-Grand Daughters and Sons,
   I hope your reading this letter in a time of peace and prosparity. There is so much I want to tell you, so many hopes I have for you. I don't know if I ever got to meet you, its been one hundred years since I wrote this letter, but I am sure you are all beautiful and handsome people. Even though I may never get to meet you I want you to know I am proud to have you in my family. We are a melting pot of diffrent peoples, cultures, religions, colors, and countries, and I hope it stays that way forever. Anyway more about me, I am writing this letter as a niave eighteen year old. I like to think I know alot about the world but I am still learning everyday. I have gotten to travel to so many beautiful places around the world and I hope I will...

Zoom In

My First Home

Start with a map of the world then look closer. There's a mitten-shaped state in the midwest, surrounded by blue lakes. Zoom in near the bottom edge past the dormant factory buildings, and forgotten industry yards, till you reach the seemingly endless cornfields. When you feel a warm summer breeze blow through your hair you'll know you're getting closer. There's an old farmhouse next to the road and an old willow tree stands guard next to the driveway. Don't mind the chickens pecking at the ground, or the peacocks prancing on the porch, and the little black dog's name is Rosie she won't bite. The farm doesn't look like much anymore. The tin barn's roof leaks and the old pool barn is half falling down. Cobwebs and rats are the only things that live in the one good barn. You would hardly be able to tell anymore but once, many years ago, this was where some of the greatest racehorses in the whole...

No Title Yet

The women stood over the white sink watching her blood mix with the water as it flowed down the drain. Her breath came out in ragged streaks as she tried to steady her heart. Her eyes burned and her mouth tasted like metal. She slowly looked up into the cracked, dirty, mirror, she stared into her own light blue eyes. The left one half swollen shut and outlined in a purple bruise, her lip split down the middle blood still flowing down her chin. A tear fell down her cheek making her look away. Her blood splattered hands clenched the edge of the sink, as fresh blood poured out of her knuckles. The women looked into the mirror again she hardly recognized herself and it wasn't just because of the bruises. For one hundred years she had kept her curse a secret, for one hundred years she had moved through the shadows careful to never stray too far into them. She had...

Monostich

Loose Thoughts

She had closed her heart to love until he came and opened the door.

She was beautiful and wild and free, then the world caged her spirit calling it ugly.

When the end comes I hope it's you that stands next to me.

She was a beautiful mosaic of brocken pieces.

The gun was heavy in his hands but the picture in his pocket was heavier.

She hid her smile behind her vinyl rock collection.

A million stories lay untold in the crumpled papers at her feet.

Silent Chaos

I was born into a silent world.
I have never heard my name called,
though I am sure it has been.
I have never heard a voice rise
in anger or joy.
Everything has always been silent.
But my silent world is far from boring.
Silence gives me the freedom to create anything.
I make the world my own,
traffic jams are connect the dot games,
birds are always playing tag,
the wind is simply ocean waves,
without the water.
But my favorite noise,
is the soft smile that spreads on your face 
when your fingers swiftly spell out words,
that I can understand.
And for a moment my silent chaotic world
is your too.

Alone

I really love being alone.
I love playing my music
"too loud".
I love sliding down the hallways
in my socks.
I love streching out in my
queen size bed.
I love dancing in my
kitchen.
I love binge watching my 
favorite shows.
But every now and then,
when I look up from my fantasy world.
I see a mother,
holding her baby.
A group of friends laughing,
at a cafe.
A husband holding his
wife's hand.
Sometimes,
I wish I didnt like being 
alone.

Title Help

I have been having a recent episode of writers block and just can not put any of my loose thoughts into ideas. So I thought you guys could help. If you have an idea for a title of a piece just leave it in the comments and I will see if I can come up with a piece based on the title. I will be sure to give you credit for the idea if and when I use it. Thank you guys so much!!

Stars In Her Eyes

There were stars in her eyes,
 strings of lights through her hair,
and galaxies danced on her fingertips.
She spoke of faraway worlds,
and lands unseen by the eyes of men.
When it rained she lifted her head up to the heavens,
letting the angels wash her face.
She laughed and danced through the streets,
as if she were on a stage.
She weaved daisy chains in the park,
and crowned kings and queens.
 She loved everything she saw,
but she couldn't stay. 
She set my soul on fire
and left this world with a smile.
I will never forget the girl 
with stars in her eyes.
 

Place Poem

Lonely Corner

The house was built on Lonely Corner,
past the blue bust stop, the old diner,
 and the proud courthouse.
Its a plain house with,
white, purple, blue and yellow
walls. 
For many years the house was full,
a loving couple, a rambunctions set of boys, 
a labrador, and a goldfish.
As the years wore on the house got quiet.
Now it is silent
waiting.
The beds are made in every room,
pillows fluffed, sheets freshly washed,
quilts folded perfectly.
The kitchen is ready to entertain,
stainless pots neatly stacked,
silverware lined up, recipes folded in a draw,
glasses gleaming in the cupboard.
The libary is spotless,
books alphabetized, chairs pilled with blankets,
a stone fireplace, and a small stack of wood.
The rest of the house is just as clean,
dining chairs pushed in, couches vacuumed,
mail sitting on the desk, photos on the wall, 
jewelry lined up neatly in a box. 
But the house will be silent a little while longer,
the boys aren't coming...

The Soldiers Cross

Tall heavy boots without 
a master.
A black hand-worn gun without
a trace of life.
A battle hardened helmet without
a thought to protect. 
A Saddened heart says a last 
goodbye.
A cross,
that watches over a hero's
finale resting place.
And a flag that will never forget. 

Becoming Human

Reader

Once I was nothing,
a ghost wandering in a dreamless sleep,
until she came and picked me up. 
Brought to life by her voice,
she spoke my name softly like a song on her lips. 
I felt her gentle touch as she caressed the pages,
my story played out in her eyes
and I watched her slowly fall for me.
But with each whispered word, 
I fell twice as hard.
I knew her,
I knew when she needed to escape her world
by the way she lovingly stroked the pages. 
I knew when she was scared,
or worried,
by the way she hesitantly whispered the words. 
I knew when she was trying to stay awake
to make sure I was safe,
when she paused for long moments, 
her hands going still, 
finally she closed her eyes
and laid her head next to mine.
I could sense her jealousy when I saved a princess, 
if only she knew she was the...

Poetry and Spoken Word Competition 2018

Safe House

 If you ever find yourself lost,
or alone,
or like the world is just too big,
you can always come to me.
There's plenty of room to park your car,
and the porch light is always on.
There's coffee,
tea,
and cocoa, 
hot and waiting,
and snacks in the cupboards.
If you just need a place to think,
the table is always clear. 
If you need a place to stay,
I've got a spare bedroom
and the couch is pretty nice too. 
If you need someone to listen,
my ears are always open.
If you need someone else to talk,
I've got a million stories,
though I can't promise there good.
If just want to cry,
I'll sit and wipe away your tears.
I will never judge,
or question why you have come,
I will just do my best to ease your suffering. 
Because I know what its like
to fight the demons every day,
to cry alone on the bathroom floor,
to...

The Song of Troy

Hero's sailed to a far off land 
many doomed to die.
The strongest men filled with rage,
and a hunger for the heat of battle.
The screams of war call to them
like the songs of the sirens ,
that lure men to their deaths.
The rage of a king ,
Beyond all others.
His honor stolen, 
His pride weakened.
His armies as vast
as the grains of sand on a shore.
They reached the place, 
Where honor was taken.
A city with walls guarded by the Gods,
and battles were raged on the shore. 
And their blood soaked the ground and,
Until honor was won,
Victory granted,
They would keep fighting.
With strength in their shield arms,
and confdence in their spears,
they strode into the city
and burned the walls guarded by the Gods.
Honor is won,
Victory is theirs,
The hero's sail home.
But some never leave,
Cursed to wonder the shore 
And be counted among the...

Madam President

The room was quiet except the occasional shuffling of papers or the sorrowful sigh of the only occupant. Abigail Stark sat cross-legged on the desk in her pink flower print PJ bottoms and a Star Wars t-shirt; binders, folders. and loose papers were strewn out in front of her. Her thick black hair usually so perfectly put together is in an unruly side braid, loose strains falling into her face. Her stormy blue eyes were dull and full of worry. Her sagging posture screamed exhaustion and the clock on the wall told her she had been here for nine hours. But she couldn’t stop, not when the Senate met tomorrow and she had promised the people there wouldn’t be a government shut down and she would find a way to keep the Every Kid Gets A Home fund funded. But after nine hours of going through operating cost, pay recites, and tax collections, she was no closer to finding a solution....

City At Night

I am in love with the city at night.
Not on the streets,
where danger lurks behind the stench of alcohol 
and demons dance in strangers cigarette smoke.
But behind my window's glass barrier,
I love the city at night.
The lights scattered like polka dots across the buildings,
that dare the stars to outshine them.
The winding streets seem to be bursting with life
 as they slither through the city.
The twisted half-finished skyscrapers blend into the shadows like a living beast.
Steam rises from every corner of the city,
like a great steam powered engine
Looking through the window glass barrier of my home,
I have fallen in love with the city of night.

It Would Be Different

I really thought this time it would be different.
I know the sting of heartbreak,
I know the nights spent crying into a pillow
I know the phone calls with my best friend
I can prepare for that.
But this ending was slow and almost unnoticeable.
You started waking up earlier
leaving your side of the bed cold. 
You started eating dinner without a word,
the silence hurt worse than any words. 
When our song came on the radio
you didn’t smile or sing along, 
you just switched the station. 
I guess I should have known by then 
it was over,
But I didn’t want to believe it. 
I hung on to any sign 
that you were still in love with me.
But the day you left without even a goodbye,
I learned the hard truth.
I really thought this time it would be different.

Back Then

When I look at pictures of younger me
I am always surprised and amazed.
Suprised at the careless smile,
spread across my face.
Amazed at this little girl,
with so much fire in her eyes.
I wish I could go back to her.
Back to a time before,
chewed fingernails
and restless nights,
before chapped lips
and dark circles.
Back to a time when,
my bed sheets made me a hero,
and a stick and a piece of cardboard,
made me a knight.
Back when, 
the world was bright,
and new.
And each day,
brought new adventures.
That me wouldnt recognise
this new me. 
I am not the person
she thought I would be,
and thats what hurts the most.

Funeral Song

I never thought I would get to see this part of my life, at least not yet. There's a crowd of mourners huddled together, their black suits and dresses stand out against the bright sunshine. My mother is hugging my wife who is clutching her arm, like it is her lifeline. Her crystal clear blue eyes, usually so full of laughter and light, are dim and stormy like a tsunami wave about to crash and flood onto her face. Her lower lip trembles as she tries to keep a brave face. I want to run to her, to hold her, and tell her I love her one more time, but I can’t. She had called me the day I died, a sandstorm was coming and we were moving out in an hour, but I traded my last pack of chocolate to the captain to let me make that call. She had sounded so happy, I could almost see her smile...

Writing Block (Help!)

Hi everybody! 
I am looking for inspiration because well, I have been staring at a blank piece of paper for two days. So I am looking for any type of inspiration, titles, conversation starters, settings, anything you can think of. I will make sure to credit you if I use your idea obviously! Thank you all so much I can’t wait to get the creativity flowing again! 
P.S. You all are amazing writers and I will treasure your ideas!! 
 

The Unknown

​I Don’t Know Much About War

I don’t know much about war,
Not the innocent game played by children with paint and finger guns,
But the wars of nations.
I don’t know the chaos of a battlefield,
or the vastness of a graveyard filled with flags.
I don’t know what filling a sink with blood from your hands that isn’t yours looks like.
I don’t know what holding a dying friends hand feels like.
I don’t know what staring at a tangled mass of bomb wires does to your heart beat.
I don’t know what it’s like to stare at a telephone while twirling a wedding band praying its his voice that calls.
I don’t know what it’s like to say I love you to a letter and seal an envelope with a kiss.
I don’t know what it’s like to flinch at fireworks.
I don’t know what its like to be afraid of home.
I don’t know much about war.

The Trail of Tears

Along a trail,
we marched.
Our blood
speckled the ground.
Our frozen feet
begged us to return home.
But the end of a gun
and harsh words,
in a laguage we did not understand,
kept us walking.
Through our ancestors lands,
we marched like foreigners.
For some,
the trip was too long.
We were not permitted to bury them,
only say a prayer to the spirits
to guide them home.
Along a trail,
we marched.
And our tears soaked the ground.

The Wall

The man came to the wall every night after work. He liked it at night, there was never any people and the soft glow of the street lights illuminated the park just enough to read the names that had been carved for eternity. He walked slowly his eyes trained on his feet, his dark suit jacket covered his marine tattoo and his suit pants hid the shrapnel scars that decorated his legs. He stopped halfway down the wall and carefully looked up his eyes found their names easily. He placed his hand over them the cold marble seeping into his scared fingers, he closed his blue eyes as tears threatened to fall. Slowly as if a hand had reached out and turned back the clock, the humming of the traffic faded into the thrumming of helicopters, the low street lights expanded into the sweltering sunshine the cool air became thick and he could taste the humidity the cold wall was...

Will They Remember

What will people remember about me when I am gone?
Will it be my humor, 
or my laughter. 
My smile,
or my frown.
Will it be for the way I could diffuse an argument,
or the way I could start one.
I wonder if they will remember my voice,
or if my actions will speak louder.
If they will carve my name in stone
for all to see,
or maybe write about me in books,
read around the world.
But my greatest hope is that I live a life 
worth remembering.

Walking

​Soldier Queen

Jasmine watched from her hiding place as the prisoners were marched along the road. Hundreds of men their cloaks torn and their armor dented, thick black chains decorated their wrists and necks. They walked slowly each one hardly lifting their feet off the ground, they swayed every direction struggling to stay upright. Their heads were bowed in defeat. Jasmine watched and waited, finally she came into view. The women wore the purple cloak of a captain, her armor shone with blood and her eyes were alive with fire. Unlike the men her footsteps were strong and measured, each stride the same length. Her heel hit the ground first, then she stretched the rest of her foot till her toes hit the ground. She hardly made a sound as she walked and despite the heavy chain around her neck she carried her head high glaring at her captures. The chains may have said prisoner but her eyes said queen. 

Monster Flash Fiction Competition 2018

Monster Under The Bed

"Good-Night Annabell." 
"Good-Night mommy," Annabell said. Her mother smiled then silently closed the door. When Annabell was sure she heard the lock click, she sat up. 
" Thanny?" she whispered. From under her bed, a clawed hand crept up, the arm that followed was muscular and a shade darker than the night. Thanny stretched up his other hand and pulled himself onto Annabell's bed. His face was smooth as glass his eyes were empty pits when he smiled his teeth were sharp like fangs.  
 "Hello Anna," Thanny said his voice like ice, Annabell smiled.
"Are we going to finish the story?" 
"That depends on how many questions you ask" Thanny laughed. Annabell slid over to make room for him. Just as Thanny had settled down next to her they heard the sound of glass breaking and screaming.
"Mommy?" Annabell cried. They could hear more screaming and footsteps on the stairs. Annabell flinched as the door shuddered. Thanny rose from her...

Friendship Tweet

​What is Friendship?

The dictionary describes friendship as a “friendly feeling between two people”, but it is more then that. It is someone who stands up for you when you can not. Someone who always has your back. It is late night phone calls, to listen, to encourage, and to cry. Friendship makes today beautiful, and fills the future with hope.

Baby Girl

Hey baby girl,
do you know how much 
I love you?
Do you know the pride I feel
when I say, 
that one's mine. 
Your are beautiful, 
from your chocolate hair,
to your love of mismatched socks.
Those ocean blue eyes,
and that trouble maker smile,
are your fathers though.
You have a wild side
 like your grandpa,
and a love of books
like your grandma. 
You’ve got a rebel streak 
you got that from me.
And a stubborn will 
that you got from your father. 
You have a kind heart, 
don’t ever let the world turn it cold. 
Spread your love to everyone you meet.
And know that you can always come home.
I love you,
baby girl.
 

I Am Not A Distraction

I am not a distraction.
I am not a statue 
for your prying eyes 
to judge.
I do not wake up
 and get ready 
 with the intent of pleasing you. 
In fact,
I barely wake up in the morning.
After staying up all night
cramming for that science test.
Or staring at a computer screen,
trying to diagram sentences 
while rocking a child back to sleep. 
Sometimes I stay up all night
just replaying the day,
over and over,
finding fault in every action. 
But when I get up late,
and barely have time to pull my unbrushed hair up,
not bothering to look in the mirror,
you get to call me 
ugly
unprofessional
a distraction. 
But when I do manage to wake up early
and do my hair and makeup,
you call me,
fake 
privileged
a distraction. 
I can not win.
You decided, 
before I was born,
that I would a distraction,
That you should decide
what I could...

LackingASocialLife's Writing Promets Day-1 5 pieces of clothing I love wearing

I will be the first to admit I have zero style sense. I have tried many times but I just can never find things that go together or "flatter" my figure. This dismays my stylish younger sister who is always shaking her head at my clear lack of style. Anywase my favorite piece of clothing is probably my pair of dark blue jeans. I own a lot of jeans but this particular pair just fits me so perfect and has that wonderful like faded, worn all the time look. I also have a bit of a sock obsession. Not just any socks though, I love socks with patterns, sayings, or ones that have my favorite characters on them. In the winter I also have this jacket that is just a plain grey color but it is the single warmest jacket I have ever worn. It feels like I am wrapped in a heater when I put it on. In the fall and...

Solastalgia

A Farewell To Winter

I used to love the winter. I don't really know what it was exactly that I loved so much. Maybe it was the beauty and the perfection of a field covered in snow. Maybe it was the joy of those first few snowflakes. MAybe it was warm nights by the fire, with pjs and hot chocolate. Maybe it was the laughter that seemed to echo off every hill and mountain as children and adults raced in sleds. I think it was all of the above. But, I have not enjoyed a winter in a very long time. Now instead of a joyous first snow we get rain. Instead of peaceful sleeping fields we get muddy swamps. Instead of laughter echoing off the hills all you hear is the screams of desperate towns as mud slides come hurtling down. When it finnaly does get cold, its too cold. The cold that you can feel in your bones, the one that makes your...

Love in 13 Words

A Soldiers Love

He kisses her picture again then folds it and picks up his gun.

LackingASocialLife's Writing Promets Day-1 What I look Like

So this is Day 1 of LackingASocialLife's Writing Prompts. I guess I would describe myself as rather plain, I am 5' 1", I'm not fat but my short stature makes me look a little chubbier. I have thick football player legs that took me a very long time to learn to love. I have a broad set of shoulders that I love, and "farm girl" arms from years of lifting grain sacks throwing hay and training horses. My skin tone is white with soft dark undertones. Basically, it looks like I have a light tan in the winter and a perfect tan in the summer.  My face is heart-shaped I guess I have very long dark eyelashes and regular eyebrows. My lips are a naturally dark shade of red, I get asked if I wear lipstick often, ( I don't) my nose and ears are rather normal. My eyes are normally brown with flecks of every other color in them, but they tend...

Flash Autobiography

Race Night

It was midnight, most people were already in bed but I was wide awake. The edges of my jeans were soaked in water, my palms were covered in fading black ink. Over my left shoulder, I carry my comic book backpack filled with my colors, my helmet banging into my back with every step. On my right Quicksilver Candy A a beautiful bay mare, her coat still wet from her bath and her ears pricked up eyes shining proudly. She had just won the twelveth at Yonkers Raceway against the best mares in the northeast. My heart was still pounding from excitement, a smile plastered on my face from watching her cross the bright line of light and racing to the winner's circle. My body was tired and sore, we had raced three other ones before her, all had made money but she had been our only winner. I loaded her into the trailer with a quick kiss on her...

A Thank You to my Followers

 I have always loved writing, from the first time I opened a book I fell in love with the written word. When I first joined WTW I didn't really know what to expect. I had only ever shared my writing with my parents and a few teachers, so putting my work out there in a public form was kinda scary. But then I got my first like, and then a few more, and then a comment a review, it was amazing. I felt so overwhelmed by the amount of love for my work, I remember spending a couple minute being shocked the first time someone took the time to compliment my work. I just wanted to thank each and every one of my 100 followers for making this young writers dreams come true. You all have supported me and, even if you didn't know it, helped me get through some really hard times. You are always quick to put praise on my work, no...

Worth It

Hey you,
the girl silently crying
on the cold bathroom floor.
The waitress 
working the night shift,
picking up the pennies 
of her tip.
The little girl
trying to drown out
the yelling,
by hiding under the bed.
The young women
whose missing the party,
because she wants to study.
I want you to know that 
you are worth it. 
You are beautiful, 
and kind,
and smart, 
you are a gift to this world,
And no man or women,
can take that away from you.
You are enough,
when the world demands you 
to be perfect, 
show them the beauty of 
imperfection.

Signing Off

Dear 2017

I want to start off by saying thank you, thank you so much for everything you have put me through this year. While there were definitely some rough patches this year I became a better person because of it. Early on you challenged my family when we moved our horses and ourselves to New York. This would be the fifteenth move of my life. I did get to add two new racetracks to my ever-growing list. We dominated the first six months of racing at Buffalo Raceway, with my mother taking the training title for the most wins and money earned, and my father taking the driving title for most wins and money earned. Then the next racetrack Batavia Downs opened and we packed up the horses and moved again. Our stable, now close to forty horses strong, consisted of some of the best horses to race that year. They included Quicksilver Candy A who would go on to tie for the winningest horse in North...

Our Table

I wonder what people think
when they see our table all set,
ready for guests.
Napkins folded to perfection,
fancy wine glasses sparkling,
forks
spoons
and knives
set straight beside each other.
Everything seems perfect. 
But if they look closer they'll see, 
the napkins are not folded entirely straight
because my mother's hands shake. 
The fancy wine glasses are only grape juice,
but my brothers like looking fancy.
The forks, 
spoons, 
and knives all have diffrent designs
because I couldn't decide which set to get.
The plates have chips
and one has a long crack.
Our table may not be perfect,
but when we all sit down 
in our mismatched chairs, 
laughing at our poor attempts to make Pinterest plates,
rolling our eyes at my brothers 
who look like they were wrestled into their nice cloths,
our table will be perfect for us.

On the Last Day of the World

Open Eyes

On the last day of the world,
I would pry my eyes open so as not to miss the light.

Flash Autobiography

Race Night

It was midnight, most people were already in bed but I was wide awake. The edges of my jeans were soaked in water, my palms were covered in fading black ink. Over my left shoulder, I carry my comic book backpack filled with my colors, my helmet banging into my back with every step. On my right Quicksilver Candy A a beautiful bay mare, her coat still wet from her bath and her ear pricked up eyes shining proudly. She had just won the twelveth at Yonkers Raceway against the best mares in the northeast. My heart was still pounding from excitement a smile plastered on my face from watching her cross the bright line of light and racing to the winner's circle. My body was tired and sore, we had raced three other ones before her, all had made money but she had been our only winner. I loaded her into the trailer with a quick kiss on her...

A War on Nature

Technology and nature do not go together. 
While technology looks like a twisted monster out of place in the world,
Nature fits and flows effortlessly no matter where it is.
When you walk through a park
it is not the trees,
or the grass that look out of place,
but the sidewalks and benches that are jarring.
When you see the telephone wires that run like veins throughout the country they seem small and unimportant next to the trees that give us our very breath.
With our technology we claim to have conquered the land,
the sea,
and the air.
But have we really?
Or is nature simply letting us play Kings and queens?
Like an amused parent,
simply waiting for the day when our technology fails us.
When we can no longer solve or problems with the push of a button.
On that day nature will be there to remind us where we came from.
 

Third Person Limited

Praire Girl

It was still dark when she opened her sleepy eyes and pulled the warm covers away. Her numb fingers fumbled with the matches in the freezing still air. Finally, a smal flame burst to life, carefully she lit the candle at her bedside. The candle gave just enough light for her to pull on her thick leggings and dress.  Tiptoeing out of her room she headed for the kitchen. She opened the stove and shoved a few pieces of wood in, gently blowing until the flames erupted to life. Then carefully closing the door again she pulled down the wool socks her mother had left for her and shoved them on her cold feet. It took several tries to lace up her boots, her numb fingers protesting at the dainty task. With a yank of defiance, she tied the last knot and reached for her wool clook hanging by the door wishing her sisters were old enough to help.The early morning wind...

Year by Year

My life is a Memory

Year One: I was born in the middle of a blizzard, on the longest night of the year. I have yet to determine if this is a good sign or a bad one.
Year Two: A sister came in the spring, we lived on my grandparent's farm, I jogged horses in a backpack that my mother carried.
Year Three: My mother got sick told she would never have another child until a brother came. We moved to a new house filled with merry go round wallpaper. 
Year Four: Another brother was born in early winter so small and fragile. Our little family was complete in that little house by the racetrack.
Year Five: Life was good, filled with late night cookouts and bubble guns. Until one day it all ended we moved away to a new state, a new house, a new start.
Year Six:  My Montessori school is fun, filled with playgrounds hikes and new friends. We...

Names for Nature

The Commander

There is a tree in the back of our property it stands at the start of a trail. An ancient maple so tall angels sit on its top branch. It takes all four of us holding hands to encompass the circumference of the trunk. We call it The Commander because it stands watch over the rest of the forest, everyone who wants to walk through our woods has to past The Commander. He is kind and strong, the way a good guardian should be, but also stern and fierce when evil approaches. Through wind and rain, snow and drought, he has carried out his faithful service to our little woods. I know one day though our Commander will fall. I can tell by the way he says a little too far in the wind, and the way his great trunk sighs under the weight of the snow. I can tell by the small hollow spot of rot at its roots. One day or...

Why I Write

Why Do I Write?

I write to give a voice to those who have none. I write to open peoples eyes, and their hearts. I write to make people laugh, and to make them cry. I write to make sense of the world. I write to create chaos out of the worlds routine. I write to make heroes I can believe in. I write to fill the emptiness of the night. I write to ensure that if my voice is ever silenced my written words never will be. I write so I will never forget who I am. 

Colorful Pain

People often say, depression hurts.
It saps the color from the world
leaving only darkness.
It turns shadows into monsters.
It holds your feelings hostage. 
But my depression is different.
I see colors clearer and more vibrant,
like the world has been soaked in paint,
the colors mock me, daring me to be happy
when they know I can't.
The shadow monsters are my friends,
they stand beside me protecting me
from the light, reminding me I have none.
I have forgotten what true happiness is,
though I have learned to fake it well.
Sometimes I can be truly happy,
a moment of childhood laughter,
but it is a ghost of a feeling
a dream ripped away
no matter how tight I close my eyes.
Some days I try to remember,
remember what the world looked like
before I tinted it with sadness.
But I can't,
because the world looks the same
 it's me that's changed.



 

Talking to “You”

First Date

The sunset gleams with a thousand colors as you nervously sit on the porch swing.the cicadas have started singing, replacing the birds. You straighten your dress and try to breathe. Suddenly the cicadas song is interrupted by the low growl of a truck engine. Your heart is pounding as it pulls up the drive. Silently you stand and descend the porch steps a smile gleaming on your face. The driver door opens and Will jumps out. His usually disheveled, dusty brown hair is freshly combed. He looks, even more, handsoem in his blue jeans and tucked in t-shirt. But his well-worn cowboy boots are the same. 
"You look beautiful." He says. You blush and reach a hand up to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear. 
"Thanks. You clean up pretty nice yourself." He laughs, and your heart starts to slow down, it's just Will.

Truths and Untruths

Wishful Thinking

  1. I wish life had a pause button.
  2. I wish I could fix my mistakes.
  3. I wish I could go back in time. 
  4. I wish knowledge could be absorbed through the skin.
  5. I wish my favorite fictional characters were real.
  6. I wish I could jump into books. 
  7. I wish I could be more the person I want to be.
  8. I wish I could talk to my relatives that have passed on.
  9. I wish I could live on a cloud.
  10. I wish I could fly.

Returning

My Castle

It's been twelve years since I last saw it, my childhood castle. My mom pulls in the drive and stops the car,
"I'll just be a minute," I whisper stepping out into the cold air. I walk through the front yard, past the tall apple and pear trees. I remember the day we planted them like it was just the other day. My mom's rough hands guiding my small ones through the dirt as we dug hole after hole. My sister helping my father carry the tiny trees and place them in the holes. And my little brothers coming behind and filling the holes back in. 
"One day these trees will be taller then you" I smile remembering my shocked face as I looked at the tiny trees that now made a path along our driveway. 
"Ya, and they'll give us lots of fruit," my father said. My little brothers started clapping and dancing as though they thought that might make the trees...

Truths and Untruths

Wishful Thinking

  1. I wish life had a pause button.
  2. I wish I could fix my mistakes.
  3. I wish I could go back in time. 
  4. I wish knowledge could be absorbed through the skin.
  5. I wish my favorite fictional characters were real.
  6. I wish I could jump into books. 
  7. I wish I could talk to my relatives that have passed on.
  8. I wish I could live on a cloud.
  9. I wish I could fly.

Flash Fiction Competition 2017

The Survivor

He was small, too small, that's what the nurse told me when she handed him to me. He looked like a doll in my arms. Tears flowed down my cheeks as I watched him struggle to breathe.
"Fight," I whispered.
"You carry the name of my grandfather, the bravest man I know, and your last name is your fathers, the smartest man I know, you are a fighter." I pulled him close to me so he could feel my heart beat.
" I love you, my brave boy." The doctor walked in holding test results.
"He's going to make it."

Writing Small

First Breathe

He was so small, too small they said. They told me to prepare, he might not make it. Fight, I whispered I saw his life, like a match trying to stay lit, flicker but he fought with every atom of his body. Untill the sun shone across his smilingg face.

Your World in Three Senses

Country Fair

The summer breeze that blows through my thick brown curls smell of flowers, popcorn and warmth. My eyes bounce between the seeeminly endless rides as colorful lights blink multicolored across lauging childrens faces. The rides shoot high into the air then back down sending a round of laughter through the riders. I smile and laugh along with them. I weave through the crowds watching as parents chase after small children clutching smiling stuffed bears they just won from a game whose owner smiles and cheers all the partecpants on. The footworn path leads me closer to my goal, the Ferris wheel. Its bright lights reach so high into the sky they seem to be stars themselves. Gentle background muisic plays just load enough to blend with the laughter  of te riders. I hand the nam with a handsome snile my ticket and he helps me into the bright red seat freyed on th eseems from yers of use and lowers the...

Living in Music

Would You Go With Me

" Would you go with me
if we rolled down streets of fire
would you hold me tighter as 
the summer sun got higher
if we roll from town to town
and never shut it down"
       -Josh Turner


I love this song because I think it really captures young love and the freedom of being in love. I would love to find someone who i could just enjoy life with. Sure there will be moments that are hard and scary but I know we would make it. And when life was good we could just be free to enjoy life and everything would seem more beautiful with love coloring it.

Zoom Out

Wild Hearts

  I wake up slowly, my eyes straining to open, my frozen limbs begging for the warmpth of my quilts. I dont wont to wake up I know what will great me when I go downstairs, nothing, he wont be there. Its been three days, around here thats a lifetime to be missing. I finally swing my legs over the bed and silently walk to the window. Outside the wide plains have started turing brown, the grass died days ago but now even the shrubs and little bushes have lost their greenery. Far into the distence HeartBreaker Mountain juts high above everything else. i can hear the cattle shuffling in their pens behind the house, we're still five short seven if you count th ecalfs the two heferis have no doubt had by now. It takes longer then usall to get ready, without his strong blak coffee and laughter. Finally pulling on my heavy winter jacket and gloves I step out into the late autum air...

The Light that Saved the Darkness

I didn't want it to be this way, I had tried so hard for so long to keep it in, I told myself everything was going to be okay; but I knew better. Now standing here my heart aching I started at him across the field so far away I couldn't take it, tears flowed down my face. I wanted to walk towards him to hold him, tell him its okay. But my chance to save him had long since passed, maybe he had never been mine to save. 
My hands were clamped together in a fist at my sides, tears threatening to fall. I wanted to break something, hit something until the pain and blood on my hands erased her eyes from my memory. Seeing her there standing across the field from my crying, crying for me, begging me to be the man she sees in me. But I am not that man I didn't deserve her kindness, I don't deserve her...

Promise Me

Promise me,
when you get home
this time you'll stay.

Promise me,
you'll try not to cry
when I walk down the aisle.

Promise me,
we'll walk hand in hand
into our forever home.

Promise me,
You ont laught at my
"gourmat" dinners.

Promise me,
we can do this 
when the nurse hands us her.

Promise me,
when the next two come 
we'll be ready.

Promise me,
our fridge will become
an art museum.

Promise me,
we'll make it
through every storm.

Promise me,
we will always
forgive.

Promise me,
we ill have done okay
as they drive away.

Promise me,
as our bodies grow old
our hearts will stay young.

Promise me,
if you go first
you'll wait for me.

Promise me,
that our love
will live on.

I promise.
 

Into the Woods

Watchers

They stand unmoving,
like wooden soldiers.
Their leaves open wide
like little fingers,
reaching for the light.
Inside each one
there are rings.
Like scrolls they tell a story,
in a language,
we can not understand.
They have stood on this earth
like silent scientist,
giving no advice,
but leaving a record of us.
They were here
long before man,
and they will be here
long after man has gone.
Earths silent atchers.

Moving Day

For some moving day is,
exciting.
A new home,
a new chance,
new possibilties. 
For others moving day is,
heartbreaking.
Leaving friends,
leaving everything fimilar,
fro a far away place. 
For me moving day is,
routine.
Most things just stay in boxes,
heavy stuff in the bottem, 
my name in four year old handriting
on all my suitcase. 
To most, 
moving day is an adventure,
sometimes good 
soemtimes bad. 
To me moving day,
 is just another day.

Rough Day

Have you ever had a day where,
nothing you say is right?
Every time you try to do something,
someone is there to stop you.
When you've worked so hard on something,
only to have someone else take the credit.
Days when you try to make everyone happy,
only to end up ruining the day.
Days where,
there isn't even a word to describe
how angry you are.
There are days I wish I could stop,
stop worrying,
stop feeling,
stop saying the wrong things;
even stop the world from turning.
But I can't.
So I'll hold on to those days where,
I do everything right,
where I am appreciated.
Because, 
sometimes your on top of the world,
and sometimes,
your holding the world on your shoulders.

With You

I am Thankful.
Thankful I lived each breath I took,
and that I lived them with you.
I have walked among heroes,
and lived among Gods.
I have given life,
and I have taken life away.
I have laughed,
and I have cried.
I have grieved, and I have rejoiced.
I have been afraid, 
and I have been courageous. 
I did it all with you beside me.
But I am most thankful,
to have loved you.

1 Photo, 20 Words

Star Dust

We are all bits of dust,
star dust in fact.
I guess that means,
we are all part of heaven

Other Worlds

2 Princesses and 2 Princes

When I was nine or ten we lived on a beautiful farm that had an old apartment connected to the barn. The apartment only had one bedroom, not that that really bothered any of us. My three younger siblings and I helped line our four twin beds side by side along the far wall, while my parents bed took up the other side wall. We each had our own distinct bed sheets and quilts, dinosaurs next to purple flowers, and race cars next to pink fluffy fur. Each night after we all had stood in line to brush our teeth, put on our mismatched Ps, and brushed our hair, we pilled into our beds. After we got under the covers and propped or heads up with pillows we would all beg our mom to tell us a story. 
"Okay Okay," My mother would say.
"What story do you want me to tell you?" It would be the same answer every...

Kitchen

Its a place were you can hear,
th voices of generations past
through yellowed pages.
A place where use knowing hands,
guide young quick ones
A taste,
a smell, a feeling.
Where laughter is shared,
and memories are made.
Its the only place we can all truly,
feel at home.

Living Locales

Cairo

Sher is a city alive. Bright cloths and spices adoren her body. Ancient city streets snake up her arms in artful tattoos. Her neck is adorned with the bright blue waters of the Nile. Her long hair, interwoven with stars covers the city at night. Atop her head a crown of gold decorated with three Great Pyramids gleams in the sun. Past the bustling city streets her skirts of sand shift and dance in time with the tribesmen's flute. Her laughter echoes through the busy streets and scattered oasis as a cool breeze. If you go walk her streets, gaze at her desert, and meet her people, be warned; time will cease to pass you will forget where your are. It will feel like you have stepped back in time to tour, the jewel of the Nile.

Universal Questions

Hey Universe,
I've got some questions.
Why do people base how beautiful they are off how many "likes" their picture gets?
Why do the people we love often live far away?
Why is the world not smaller so we could all see the whole world in a day?
How come no one has invented a teleportation device to make travel faster?
Who controls are dreams?
Who moves time?
Why do people that are dyeing given a freedom they never had before before?
Why do we hold some people on pedestals and stomp on others?
I'll be right here,
waiting for your answers.
Thoughtfully yours,
Riley

10 Cool Things About Me

  1. Indiana Jones: when I was 10 I watched the Indiana Jones movies for the first time, I fell in love. After that my whole life goal was to become Indiana Jones. I would race around the yard chasing the bad guys, saving ancient history and the world. Now that I am a little older my dreams have slightly changed but, Indiana Jones will always have a place in my heat.
  2. Marvel Comics: I am a huge Marvel comic fan! I love reading the comics and going to all the movie premiers, I love annoying my parents with random trivia facts. I think superhero represent the best aspects of people, and just like s they have flaws and hardships but they always mange to save the day. That is what I love about reading them, they are just ordinary people with extraordinary skills and power.
  3. ​My Favorite Subject is History: I love learning about history. The stories, the battles, the good...

My Fear

I have very few fears,
spiders, unprotected heights, public speaking.
But the thing I am most afraid of,
the thing that keeps me up
and makes me weak at the knees.
Is the people I love
not knowing how much I 
love them.
I try to tell them,
every chance I get.
Some days though,
I forget,
I let my anger
hate 
frustration 
and stress
cloud my heart. 
When I realize what I have done
it breaks my heart,
it takes the breath from my lungs.
I hurry to tell them again 
I love you,
but is it enough? 
If I die tonight,
just fall asleep and never wake up,
will they know how much they mean to me?
Will I be able to leave the Earth knowing I loved deeper then anything?
Will my sister know, 
all the days I felt like i had failed and couldn't do it anymore
she was the one who told me I...

Mystery Writing Competition 2017

Remember Me

 It was dark when I opened my eyes, but I couldn't tell if that was because of the night or the bag over my head. My head was pounding so hard I could barely think, I tried to reach a hand up to feel it but my hands wouldn't move, they were bound to the arms of a chair. I yanked up trying to free them but all I managed to do was dig the rope deeper into my wrist. I clamped my teeth down in pain and found a piece of cloth shoved in my mouth, it tasted of blood and alcohol. My heart started racing, Where am I? How did I get here? I tried to remember where I was before but my mind was foggy with the blow to my head and the lingering smell of alcohol. I jumped at the sound of a door creaking open, followed by heavy footsteps. Then another pair of footsteps echoed...

Lyrics Unsung

The Dance

He was soaked by the time he got into the house. The screen door slammed too loud on that old farm house. He took off his coat and went to take a step, then stopped. The house was quiet, a deafening silence that filled his heart. Everything was clean as he slowly, almost unwillingly walked past the living room and into the kitchen. That's when he saw it. A perfectly white envelope on the counter with his name scrawled in cursive on the front. He didn't open it, he didn't even pick it up, he already knew what it said. He didn't know he was falling till his knees hit the floor, he started crying tears rolled down his sun hardened cheeks, the rain outside matched the rhythm of his tears. he had been there on the floor most of the night when he finally got up, his cheeks were dry his voice calm again. He walked out of the kitchen and into the living...

Mystery Writing Competition 2017

Remember Me

 It was dark when I opened my eyes, but I couldn't tell if that was because of the night or the bag over my head. My head was pounding so hard I could barely think, I tried to reach a hand up to feel it but my hands wouldn't move, they were bound to the arms of a chair. I yanked up trying to free them but all I managed to do was dig the rope deeper into my wrist. I clamped my teeth down in pain and found a piece of cloth shoved in my mouth, it tasted of blood and alcohol. My heart started racing, Where am I? How did I get here? I tried to remember where I was before but my mind was foggy with the blow to my head and the lingering smell of alcohol. I jumped at the sound of a door creaking open, followed heavy footsteps. Then another pair of footsteps echoed off...

Mystery Writing Competition 2017

Remember Me

 It was dark when I opened my eyes, but I couldn't tell if that was because of the night r the bag over my head. My head was pounding so hard I could barely think, I tried to reach a hand up to feel it but my hands wouldn't move, they were bound to the arms of a chair. I yanked up trying to free them but all I managed to do was dig the rope deeper into my wrist. I clamped my teeth down in pain and found a piece of cloth shoved in my mouth, it tasted of blood and alcohol. My heart started racing, Where am I? How did I get here? I tried to remember where I was before but my mind was foggy with the blow to my head and the lingering smell of alcohol. I jumped at the sound of a door creaking open, followed heavy footsteps. Then another pair of footsteps echoed off...

Geography of Home

The Hay bale

My favorite room is not actually a room. I have moved around so much that no home, or room, ever fells like it is truly mine. MY favorite place to go though is the barn. Not in the morning, with people rushing about, and horses coming in and out, orders being shouted and water splashing. When everyone leaves, the ally way is swept, and the horses are softly munching on their hay. I like walking to the middle and propping myself up on a hay bale, and just siting there. Sometimes I write, or draw; sometimes I talk to the horses, they make me feel calm. When I sit in the peacefulness of the barn, with only the slight rustling of tails and the constant chomping of hay, I find peace. No mater how bad the day has been, or what I have to do, sitting on that hay bale hallway down the barn is my own little piece of...

Millionaire

We all wake-up millionaires.
We have a million things,
we should,
could and,
want to do.
 Most of us will do to bed,
still rich but,
it's the people that go to bed broke
that have truly lived.

 

Picture Wall

There's a wall in my house.
It's just an ordinary wall,
like all the others,
but this wall,
holds something special,
Hundreds of pictures.
There pinned
and taped, 
and some stay on by
magic. 
I love my picture wall,
there are my brothers
at my half brother's wedding,
in their matching ties. 
My sister,
her arms wrapped around
an elephant's trunk.
My father and me,
the first time I went behind the gate.
There are my sister and me,
laughing at a fish feet spa
in Thailand.
There's sky,
laughing hysterically,
as Hawk throws flowers at him.
There's baby me,
sitting in a backpack
as my mother jogs horses. 
There's my sister,
laughing as she braids my hair.
My mom and dad,
watching as my brother and I train.
There's probably a hundred
family selfies.
My picture wall is beautiful.
It holds all the smilies
and some of the tears.
It a timeline of me'
and those I love.
Some may say its just...

A Dream

The grass grows tall and green,
soft to a fillies head.
The sun warms
the fuzz on her back.
She lies there and dreams.
Soon her spindly legs 
will grow strong,
her body will be 
rigid with muscles,
her heart
will burst with courage.
Her hooves,
will turn up the track,
her mouth,
 will pull at the bit,
straining to run her race.
But for know,
all she wants is 
the sun and the grass.

The Beach

Soft wet fingers reach out
to grasp,
hard grainy ones.
But they slip,
from each others grasp.
Lovers,
forever bound to 
each other,
but forced to be
savagly ripped apart.
So through,
vallies 
mud and
stone,
they will search.
Untill,
their hands clasp
in a lovers embrace,
to which no power
can break.

Timeless Counsel

Make Your Own Expectations

He best advice I can give is, don't let someone else's expectations for you become the expectations you have for yourself. 
My mother and grandpa gave me this advice recently, when I was questioned about collage.
I had decided I did not want to go to collage, I was going to race horses and thus no collage was necessary. However when I tell people this they get a look in their eyes like they don't understand me."What do you mean you don't want to go to collage?" "Don't you want a higher paying job?" " Everyone goes to collage."
Soon I began to question my own expectations for myself, did I want to go to collage, what would I study, if I don't go will I be the weired kid. When I told my mother about people's questions she looked me straight in the eye and said " Riley, you can be whatever you want to be. Do whatever you...

Collective Voice

We Are One

The courtyard was silent as we approached. The air stilled, waiting for us to speak. The emporor stood on the balcony his hard eyes servayed out raggedy group as we filled the courtyard. Farmers, bakers, merchants, and slaves, all standing together ready to stand and fight.
" We the people of Arcadia will not be silent, our voices will be heard. we have fought your wars, we have fed your table, and what have we got for it? Nothing" our voices rang out clear as one. 
"We are Arcadia and we are one"

Dear Little Sister

Dear little sister,
I know most days we don't see eye to eye.
Your the vegetarian 
and I'm the carnivore.
Your a romance novel reader
and I'm the Marvel comic reader.
Your the Hallmark channel
and I'm a history documentary watcher.
Your a seafoam blue,gecko green, glittering gold
and I'm a red, blue, and white.
Your a diplomat 
and I'm a fighter.
But we will always be sisters.
When nightmares wake you in the night, 
you can always come to my room and I will chase them away.
When your sick I will do all your chores, wrap you up in a blanket, feed you warm soup, and watch sappy romance movies with you.
when someone breaks your heart, I will let you cry on my shoulder, share a box of chocolates,
burn anything that was theirs and plastic wrap their car. 
No matter where life takes us, you will always be my little sister. I will stand up for...

Barn

There's something sad about an empty barn.
The cobwebs clinging to the corners,
the unswept alleyway covered in dust.
The stalls filled with the musty smell of sawdust
Abandoned tools scattered about,
bale twine looped on hooks.
When I walk into an empty barn,
I imagine I can turn back time.
With every footstep the cobwebs disappear,
the dust is swept away,
 the musty smell is replaced by fresh sawdust.
The stall gates close and,
hirses stick their heads out.
The bale twine wraps back around bales of hay.
As I run my hand over an empty cracked trunk,
I can see it differently,
open and freshly painted,
warm blankets freashly laundered in the bottom
The harness hooks holding bright harness bags.
Everything is alive and beautiful,
but when I reach the end
I turn back and seeing the emptiness again.

Universal Truths: Horse Racing

There are some universal truths that must be acknowledged when you train race horses.
6:30 comes early in the morning, no matter how late you went to bed.
You will own two sets of shoes, one for the barn and one for everywhere else. All of said shoes will have to be able to be worn in the barn as well, for late night feedings.
All of your cloths will have horse hair on them, even the "nice pair".
There is no such thing as a bad weather day, no matter how hard it's raining, snowing, or how cold it is.
Your training suit will only keep out so much mud and water. 
When your friend recommends a dandruff shampoo, you will inform her it's just stonedust.
Your hairstyle will be whatever fits under your helmet.
Your hands will get stained for days with, leg paint, hoof oil, and blueing.
Nail polish will chip off wither seconds of entering the...

Mask of home.

A fresh chance,
a clean slate
but it is?
The haunted horrors
that were left behind, 
the friends whose 
new chance never came.
Thas home you've come back to,
is it really home?
Or just another mask.
The pain is hidden,
too deep to see 
but it's there.
Its safe here, 
but it will never be the same.
Late nights
early mornings,
noise,
quite,
anythingto hide the pain.
Face the day
witg a mask of home.

Soldier

Cold,hard,metal.
Ruff hands,
hard eyes,
a mask,
to hide the pain.
A heavy heart, 
filled with dread,
with what he must do.
A home is all he wishes.

The Flag

It fills a mans heart with pride,
and stands for freedom.
But it comes with a heavy price.
Its been bloodied
and bruised,
battered in combat,
but given hope to those that stay behind.
Its protected a nation that believes,
in freedom,
justice,
honor,
courage,
and valor.
The red white and blue
loves all who hold their hand
over their heart,
and bow their heads,
to remember those
who died to defend it.

Through the Lens

Dusty and old,
I sit at the bottom 
of a trunk.
Long forgotten,
no one remembers me.
But I do,
the day I saw
th horror and carnage,
that left no one to witness it.
The bodies pilled high, 
like stacks of books.
Those that were left,
were bones,
with capes of skin.
I forgot what a child looked like,
their checks were hollow,
their eyes deprived,
of hope
and of love.
I will never forget.

The Last Wild Herd of Aradia

The people who call the sands home say there was once a time long before man and beast roamed the earth, that the sands had voices and even when the first beasts were brought into being they still whispered their stories. They told of the stars, of the sun and the moon they told of the time of fire and water, they told of great battles between light and dark. Then there came a time when the ears of man grew deaf to the voices of the sand. Every now and then though if you go far enough into the desert on a night when you can reach up and stroke the stars if you are silent you can hear their whispers. They no longer tell of the time of fire and water or of the stars instead they tell of the history of man his triumphs and his fails. This story is about the love between man and beast...

Universal Truths: Horse Racing

There are some universal truths that must be acknowledged when you train race horses.
6:30 comes early in the morning, no matter how late you went to bed.
You will own two sets of shoes, one for the barn and one for everywhere else. All of said shoes will have to be able to be worn in the barn as well, for late night feedings.
All of your cloths will have horse hair on them, even the "nice pair".
There is no such thing as a bad weather day, no matter how hard it's raining, snowing, or how cold it is.
Your training suit will only keep out so much mud and water. 
When your friend recommends a dandruff shampoo, you will inform her it's just stonedust.
Your hairstyle will be whatever fits under your helmet.
Your hands will get stained for days with, leg paint, hoof oil, and blueing.
Nail polish will chip off wither seconds of entering the...

Poetry and Spoken Word Competition 2017

Race

A video of me reading it:
https://spark.adobe.com/video/kULv9yjNtAzw7

The track is fast,
the air is cool.
The stands are packed.
The harnesses gleaming,
like plaits of steel.
The horses prancing,
ready to run.
Uncaged spirits,
yearning to fly.
There off,
racing pacing,
there harnesses clashing.
Their heads bent,
their mouths,
pulling at the bit.
Yearning to see nothing,
but the track ahead.
Courageously they
monover around 
the turns.
The crowd cheers,
and waits.
The light flashes
across the track.
A beacon in the darkness.
A last dash,
a winner is made.

The Subject that Matters

Gardening/ Farming

I think an important class to teach high school kids is farming, or simply where their food comes from.
Many people today dont know how their food is grown or where it even comes from. For this class it would start with a basic understanding of how farming works, what methods are used, different crops that are grown, and the cost to raise and produce the crops. Their would also be a hands on course where the student would plant their own garden. In doing this it would not only help teach them about food and how impotent it is to eat healthy, but also the value of growing their own food. The student could then harvest thier crops and give it to the cafeteria staff to be cooked and added to their lunchs. I think if you show students that they can grow their own food and have fun doing it they would be more likely to make smarter...

The Heart of Africa

Africa a place of wonder and magic, a land shrouded in mystery. Maybe thats what brought me to Africa in the first place or maybe it was something else. The Messi believe your soul is born before your body, made of star dust and the energy of past lives. So maybe thats why I chose Africa because my soul was born there. But then it could have nothing to do with my soul maybe it was my heart that decided the day I stepped of the boat and breathed in my first taste of African air that I knew I was home. But whatever force had bond me to this place it was not strong enough to hold me there when war tore my home apart. 
I can still remember that night, the misty fog lay low on the ground and everything was silent, above the sky was clear the stars glittered like jewels spilled across the heaven. I heard...

The Jungle

There is an ancient prophecy whispered through the wind it tells of a time when forrest will burn, and one creature will rise up above all others and claim to be master of all life. It would take everything that the world had to offer, and create metal chains to bind creatures to its will. This creature would destroy that which had given it life. Through the years many creatures have forgotten the prophecy, but some have not, they whisper it to their children and fear the time has come to watch the world burn. 
    The birds herd it first, the whirring and crying of machines, the thundering crashes as trees fell and the burning of the underbrush. They carried the message to the monkeys, their howling calls echoed as they swung faster and faster way from their fallen homes. The gorillas, in their high mountain brush heard the monkeys panicked shrieks and tore through the jungle in search...

I Want Love

I want a love that's different.
I want a call at 2 am when you can’t sleep, love.
I want an ice cream cone on a hot summer night love.
I want a moonlit beach walk love.
I want a fast car on a backroad love.
I want a spaghetti for two love.
I want a hundred photo booth pictures love.
I want a cuddle together on a rainy day love.
I want a can you read to me love.
I want a flowers for no reason love.
I want a singing along to every song love.
I want a kiss at the top of the Ferris wheel,
 at midnight, under the mistletoe love
I want a love that’ll push me to do better.
I want a love that’ll hold me through it all.
I want for the rest days and the worst nights.
But most of all,
I want a true love.

My Top 10 Artist and Why I Like Them

  1. 1.    Chris Ledoux- When I was little I went to the races almost every night with my dad. We would usually get done around midnight, with a two hour drive home. In order to stay awake my dad would throw in a Chris Ledoux cd, and I remember sining along with my dad until I fell asleep. So every time I hear one of his songs it takes me back to those nights, and makes me think of my father.
  2. Nickleback- I love rocking out to Niclkleback. They are the one group everyone in my family can agree on. Whenever we’re in the car and “ I Wanna be a Rockstar” comes on, it doesn’t matter if we were just arguing, we all stop, throw our hands in the air, and sing along to every word. It may not always be in perfect harmony but, it brings us all together.
  3. Josh Turner- I will admit it, Josh Turner was...

Poetry and Spoken Word Competition 2017

Race

A video of me reading it:
https://spark.adobe.com/video/kULv9yjNtAzw7

The track is fast,
the air is cool.
The stands are packed.
The harnesses gleaming,
Like plaits of steel.
The horses prancing,
ready to run.
Uncaged spirits,
yearning to fly.
There off,
racing pacing,
there harnesses clashing.
Their heads bent,
their mouths,
pulling at the bit.
Yearning to see nothing,
but the track ahead.
courageously they
monover around 
the turns.
The crowd cheers,
and waits.
The light flashes
across the track.
A beacon in the darkness.
A last dash,
a winner is made.

Poetry and Spoken Word Competition 2017

Race

The track is fast,
the air is cool.
The stands are packed.
The harnesses gleaming,
Like plaits of steel.
The horses prancing,
ready to run.
Uncaged spirits,
yearning to fly.
There off,
racing pacing,
there harnesses clashing.
Their heads bent,
their mouths,
pulling at the bit.
Yearning to see nothing,
but the track ahead.
courageously they
monover around 
the turns.
The crowd cheers,
and waits.
The light flashes
across the track.
A beacon in the darkness.
A last dash,
a winner is made.

Hands

Men march with feet of ice.
A trail of red follows them.
Bleak faces,
march.
The wind hungrily nips their bare skin, hands that tremble with a frozen death.
Hands,
that used to go till the soft earth.
Hands,
that used to bend metal over a fire.
Hands,
that used to break colts and raise lambs.
Hands,
that used to hold a sleeping child.
Hands,
that used to hold a lover.
Now they hold death,
in a never ending embrace.

State Lines

I know, 
I know as soon as I cross
that state line. 
My eyes open
and I breathe in.
The same air 
as where I live but, 
diffrent,
freasher, sweeter, safer.
I know the hundred and one
mailboxes,
that I count every time.
I know the welcoming
corn, oat, and bean fields.
I know the Freash Corn This Way sign,
leaning with more paint gone.
I know the meat market,
packed in deer season.
I know the moss covered fences,
dotted with cows and horses.
I know the willow tree, 
tall and old before I was born.
I know the welcoming smoke,
coming from the house
I spent my first Christmas in.
I know the gravel driveway,
that leads me home.
And I know the front porch, 
waiting with open arms, 
calling me always home. 
To love, and to family.

Not Enough

Gardens of roses
Boxes of candles and,
Wheels of chocolate, 
would never be enough.
To show the love I have
for you.

Race Track

My favorite time to look at the track is dawn,
when the sun softly lights the way. 
The fog lays low covering the track,
freshly groomed in clean straight lines.
I love hearing the first horse hooves, 
as they tear up the ground.
Leaving prints in the soft stone.
Their echo filling the days stillness.
The horses warm whinnies call me back to the barn. 
The day has officially begun.

Gone from the world

I was so proud,
when you walked home
with that suit on.
But know,
when I turn and look
at that dusty picture frame
of you, with the flag
waving in the background.
In a place that's clearly not home,
all you'll see is the tears,
in my eyes.
You left me hear all alone,
with these empty hall 
and haunted picture frame.
You got a duty to your country,
but what about the duty 
to your family?
There your country too.
Why did they have to come.
With their fancy suits,
and sorry eyes.
They hardly said a word, 
as they handed me a
folded up flag,
and told me you were gone.
Gone from me,
and gone from the world.

Creature View

Iliad

Iliad opened his sleepy eyes as the warm sunlight filtered in through his window. Slowly walking he stuck his head out of of the gate, and listened to the barn waking up. The old stub horses creaking joints as he stood up in the next stall, the two mares at the other end bickering about something. Iliad nickerd softly in greeting  to the young barn cat as she strut by his stall. Suddenly his ears percked up at the sound of footsteps echoing up the alleyway. She's not usually up this early,Iliad whinnies in greeting. She steps in front of his stall smiling " Good morning Iliad. Happy to see me?" Iliad nuzzles herblowing warm air on her open hands making her laugh. He sniffs her pockets, nipping at them, looking for the carrots she always keeps there. 
"What? What do you want?" The girl asks strocking his head. Iliad continues to nip, I know there here. The girl shakes...

Map

The best adventures are the ones the follow a map, 
with burnt edges, and browning paper.
Harsh lines all over,
were it's been folded and refolded.
The one that whispers
of monsters, danger, and treasure.
The kind of map that stirs the hearts
of all who hold it.
One that creates a longing for something,
something like treasure. 

Dream

Wild colors dance,
flowers bloom
in the middle of winter.
Castles are built, 
in minutes.
Breachs, mountains, rivers,
flow and pass like,
images on a screen.
Worries cease to be, 
at least till dawn.
When the suns rays 
open your eyes,
and tear the dream away.

Good bye

They said I didn't have to say anything, 
I could be silent.
I wanted to say something,
but my tongue was heavy.
Thw sun was shining,
mocking the sea of black 
that surrounded me.
People came up to me
thwur voices pain filled and distant,
I'm sorry, it's going to be okay,
better place, free of pain.
I just looked at them, 
not comprehending.
Finally they all left,
and I stood alone,
next to the grey rock
that bore your name.
Its not what you would've wanted, 
to sad and boring.
so I reach into my pocket,
for the smiley stickers you gave me.
I stuck them around your name.
Mt tears blurring them together.
when I was done,
I stood up and kissed the stone.
Goodbye mom.
And I walked away,
leaving your stone alone.
 

Stars

I have often wondered,
what people thought stars 
were before science?
Were they candles, 
that the Gods floated 
to the heavens?
Or a wicked thief's jewels,
spilled across the sky?
Were they a colloction 
of hero's souls,
forever resting 
in the heavens?
Or did the first child
pain them,
across the sky? 
Whatever they are,
they will always be
magical to me.

Race Track

My favorite time to look at the track is dawn,
when the sun softly lights the way. 
The fog lays low covering the track,
freshly groomed in clean straight lines.
I love hearing the first horse hooves, 
mad they tear up the ground.
leaving prints in the soft stone.
Their echo filling the days stillness.
The horses warm whinnies call me back to the barn. 
The day has officially begun.

Op-Ed Competition 2017

Factory Farms: The Ugly Truth

    I want you to imagine something, it may be hard, and sad, but just try. Imagine you live in a tiny wire cage, not tall enough for you to stand up fully in. Imaging, your feet are cut and bleeding from the wire, your back raw from the feces falling on you from the occupants above you. Your lungs full of dusty air you choke on. Imagine living your whole life in these conditions stacked and piled together in a windowless warehouse. Sounds like something out of a horror movie right? What if I told you warehouses like this are were most of the eggs that line our grocery store shelves come from.
    Terrible right? When I first learned about these "factory farms" I was shocked. When I was little my family lived on a farm. We raised animals for meat but, they were never packed together in tight cages instead they were given huge fields to graze naturaly in...

I Remember

I Remember

I remember how I felt the first day I met you.
I remember the day you took me to the movies,
but I don't remember what movie it was. I remember how you hand fit in mine, and I remeber how my cheek tingled when you kissed it. I remember how close the stars looked,at the top of the ferries wheel. I remember  you laughing as we danced in the flashing lights, but I don't remember what song was playing. I remember how warm your jacket felt as you wrapped me in it. I remember the twinkle in your eyes, as you dared me to race you to the barn. I think I won. And I remember the way you set your jaw when you saw the death totals from the war. I remember wrapping my arms around your shoulder silently begging you no. I remember you telling me you had to go, you had to fight; and I don't remember...

I Remember

I Remember

I remember how I felt the first day I met you.
I remember the day you took me to the movies,
but I don't remember what movie it was. I remember how you hand fit in mine, and I remeber how my cheek tingled when you kissed it. I remember how close the stars looked,at the top of the ferries wheel. I remember  you laughing as we danced in the flashing light, but I don't remember what song was playing. I remember how warm your jacket felt as you wrapped me in it. I remember the twinkle in your eyes, as you dared me to race you to the barn. I think I won. And I remember the way you set your jaw when you saw the death totals from the war. I remember wrapping my arms around your shoulder silently begging you no. I remember you telling me you had to go, you had to fight; and I don't remember...

Blind

Sometimes I wish we were all blind.
We would not see race,
We would not judge by outer.
Instead we could feel,
the kindness in others hands, 
we could really listen to each other,
we could fall in love with people's hearts.
If the world was blind, 
we would all work to raise each other up,
to see the light.

Dust

A heavy box
a layer of dust, 
black and white smiles,
filled with stories. 
A secret, a broken heart, 
a doll with a missing button,
a lacy dress and gloves,
an old set of china neatly stacked.
Floating dust bothers a nose,
but the stories seem to have just begun.
I say good-bye
and close the heavy wood door,
to rush back to the warm light
of my own story.
I will be back soon though.
 

Op-Ed Competition 2017

Factory Farms: The Ugly Truth

    I want you to imagine something, it may be hard, and sad, but just try. Imagine you lie in a tiny wire cage, not tall enough for you to stand up fully in. Imaging, your feet are cut and bleeding from the wire, your back raw from the feces falling on you from the occupants above you. Your lungs full of dusty air you choke on. Imagine living your whole life in these conditions stacked and pilled together in a windowless warehouse. Sounds like something out of a horror movie right? What if I told you warehouses like this are were most of the eggs that line our grocery store shelves come from.
    Terrible right? When I first learned about these "factory farms" I was shocked. When I was little my family lived on a farm. We raised animals for meat but they were never packed together in tight cages instead they were given huge fields to graze naturaly in...

The Cost

I will never see 
the love in his blue eyes.
I will never feel
his strong arms wrap me in hugs.
I will never hear
the praise in his voice.
A box and a folded flag
is all I will ever know of the man,
I never got to call father. 

Tomb

A lonley soldier. 
A tomb long forgotten.
A hero without any flowers.
A stone is all that remains.

Unbelievable Food

Djinn Blood

The cool air is filled with the smells of a thousand spices mingling together. Open sacks line the stalls of the crowded market place and shopkeepers shout out their goods; their fingers colored orange, yellow and red from the curries. My arms are already loaded down with burlap bags filled with potatoes, dates, grapes, eggs, and goat cheese. I just need one more thing, Djinn blood. Its not real Djinn blood Djinn don’t bleed like humans, it just a special blend of curry powder that can only be made by the Djinn, because the ingredients can only be found in the heart of the desert. They say the Djinn mix the sands of the desert with pieces of their own soul, to heal all wounds and bring happiness to all who eat it. I wade through the crowd of people to a small shop at the edge of town. Dried leaves hang in bunches from the ceiling, making the air...

D-Day

I felt the surf splash 
Against men's pale faces.
I heard their whispered prayers. 
I stood beside them
as their hands shook,
with fear. 
And I watched them, 
harden their eyes and prepare 
To enter Hell. 
Their courage 
Unwavering 
I followed them, 
Onto the blood-soaked beaches. 
I followed them to victory. 
But victory was not easy, 
I watched brothers search for brothers,
But instead, they found only bodies.
I watched men cry, 
With pain and terror. 
And I was there when they 
Raised the flags and 
Dug those seemingly endless 
White crosses into the ground. 
Liberty was with those men that day.

Heart Break

That's the sound of a broken heart.
Teardrops falling on an old love letter,
the sound of a closing suitcase,
a slamming screen door.
A truck driving ninety miles
down an old highway,
screaming out a name.
Its a closing page, 
its long nights,
and early mornings.
Its constent noise 
to keep the memorise away.
Its the sound of a shatered dream.
Thats the sound od a brocken heart.

Beyond Reason

Where Are We Going?

Does the wind tell stories as it howls?
Where does the ocean keep its heart hidden?
Does the earth cry when its forest are cut down? 
Where does the universe begin?
Is rain the tears of heaven washing away our sorrows?
Is life meant to go on forever?
IS when we get there as important as where we're going?
Will time suddenly stop or slowly fade away?
Will our names be carved into eternity?
When will forever end?
 

The Heart of Africa

Africa a place of wonder and magic, a land shrouded in mystery. Maybe thats what brought me to Africa in the first place or maybe it was something else. The Messi believe your soul is born before your body, made of star dust and the energy of past lives. So maybe thats why I chose Africa because my soul was born there. But then it could have nothing to do with my soul maybe it was my heart that decided the day I stepped of the boat and breathed in my first taste of African air that I knew I was home. But whatever force had bond me to this place it was not strong enough to hold me there when war tore my home apart. 
    I can still remember that night, the misty fog lay low on the ground and everything was silent, above the sky was clear the stars glittered like jewels spilled across the heaven. I...

Tame

A leather halter 
that claims a champions 
legacy.
But when it tames 
a wild spirt,
its not the legacy,
nor the champions 
blood in her veins, 
not even the name
engraved in the door,
but her spirt,
and her heart,
that will decide 
whether she crosses 
that line of light
a winner.

The Jungle

There is an ancient prophecy whispered through the wind it tells of a time when forrest will burn, and one creature will rise up above all others an claim to be master of all life it would take everything that the world had to offer and create metal chains to bind creatures to its will. This creature would destroy that which had given it life. through the years many creatures have forgotten the prophecy but some have not they whisper it to their children and fear the time has come to watch the world burn. 
    The birds herd it first, the whirring and crying of machines, the thundering crashes as trees fell and the burning of the underbrush. They carried the message to the monkeys, their howling calls echoed as they swung faster and faster way from their fallen homes. The gorillas in their high mountain brush heard the monkeys panicked shrieks and tore through the jungle in search...

Your View

Opinions

  1. We need to stop pollution and find alternative energies sources.
  2. i think it is important that all people have equally rights. 
  3. I think it is importent that we treat all animals with respect and learn better farming techniques. 
  4. I think we need to stop the violence and look for more peaceful ways of handling issues.
  5. I think all people have a right to protect themselves and their families.
  6. I think that we need to have a more family oriented society. 
  7. I think that there is too much violence in "Childrens" movies.
  8. i think that we need to learn how to eat healthy food that supports local small farms.
  9. i think that children should be taught about nature and the world around them.
  10.  I think that solitary confinement is a form of cruel punishment and should be outlawed in our prison system.

The Last Wild Herd of Aradia

The people who call the sands home say there was once a time long before man and beast roamed the earth, that the sands had voices and even when the first beasts were brought into being they still whispered their stories. They told of the stars, of the sun and the moon they told of the time of fire and water, they told of great battles between light and dark. Then there came a time when the ears of man grew deaf to the voices of the sand. Every now and then though if you go far enough into the desert on a night when you can reach up and stroke the stars if you are silent you can here their whispers. They no longer tell of the time of fire and water or of the stars instead they tell of the history of man his triumphs and his fails. This story is about the love between man and beast...

Love?

What is love? 
Love is a train wreck,
a heart racing dog fight,
a graceful ballet.
Love is a heart stopping free fall,
a jump into the unknown,
a selfless act of courage.
Love is a twisting, turning, road.
Love is an invisible force that 
binds, cares, and hopes.

Bravery

Bravery can be found
on a blood-spattered battlefield
Bravery can be found 
in the dieing flames of a fire
Bravery can be found 
at the last peak of a sinking ship 
Bravery can be found
as the last brick falls on a crumbled building 
But the bravest thing 
is not having no fear
but in finding bravery 
in fear

This I Believe

I Believe

I believe that hard work is the only way to get ahead.
I believe in the magic of everyday moments. 
I believe that courage resides in everyone's heart. 
I believe that there is more then one definition of beautiful.
I believe that love will triumph all evil. 
I believe a child's imagination is as limitless as the universe. 
I belive stars were made to be wished on. 
And I believe family isn't always blood.

Rose

I was born into darkness I could feel the light calling me so I clawed my way up 
until I felt the soft rays bathe my weak frame. Slowly I grew stronger and more 
beautiful. Each day my head arched towards the sun as red as blood I was the envy 
of all who saw me until one day a  savage winds ripped at my face carrying my 
 petals away like forgotten dreams. My tall proud frame began to crumble  
falling until I lay in the ground starring up at the last bit of light
 as the darkness found me again.

A Hero's Heart

The stone is warm and rough on my bare feet. I find myself sitting up here less often then I used to. I walk to the edge and sit on a toppled column, smiling as I run my hand over the worn surface. I can still hear his laugh, the way it echoed of the column’s as I look out past the city at the gentle, blue waves; and and I think about his eyes and the way they swirled and danced like the depths of the ocean. Men still speak his name with reverence they have begun to spin tails of his greatness. I hear their whispered words through the palace halls and up through the guard towers. Even in the streets men draw crowds amused women and wonder filled children spinning tails of his greatness. They say he was invincible, no arrow, spear, or sword could pierce his iron skin. All but his heel which was as weak...

Foreign Correspondent Competition 2017

Gambia Africa: Presidential Conflict

    " It is not power that corrupts but fear. Fear of losing power corrupts those who wield it..."  Aung San Suu Kyi ( Nobel peace prize winner)This quote was put into example in the recent Gambian election. Gambia, a small country in the west of Africa, has been ruled for the past twenty-two years by Yahya Jammeh. However in the recent December election he was narrowly beaten by Adama Barrow. at first everything seemed to be fine, Mr.Jammeh agreed to step down and relinquish his power to the new President Elect.But the next day he called for the vote to be annulled and refused to step down. He claimed that there had been errors made in the voting process and that he would not step down until another election could be held.After some digging it was found that some voting errors were made but not enough to warrant another election. This shock the country as people had been...

Please

Please, won't you let the suns
bright rays cleanse the land.
Let the oceans waves wash 
away the sins of yesterday.
Let the wind whisper 
a promise of tomorrow.
Let the flowers bloom a
path of hope.
And let your hand guid
me through the doorway.

A Journey

Sunrise, sunset
Bright leaves rise,
Colorful leaves fall.
Young, soft hands grasp
Old, callused hands.
An open highway, 
to the end of a driveway.
The end of a journey can be
as beautiful as the beginning.

Home

If a home could speak,
would it tell of the joy
of a young couple.
Their first house, 
wishes and dreams.
Would it tell of the joy,
of a babies first day home. 
The happiness of her first steps,
her first day of school.
Would it show the worry of a mother 
when a first date is late.
A fathers silent tears, 
as his daughter drives away to face the world.
Would it tell of a set of rocking chairs, 
that point to the sun,
that rock slowly back and forth.
And at last would it tell
of a life well lived.
With joy and sorrow,
with achievements,
and mistakes.
Of love
and pain

Liftoff

The suits are heavy and tight, our only protection. The crackling of the coms is the only sound.
Up on the dash lights blink and flash, out the window heavens starry gates open wide for 
us. Our mission, to push the boundaries of where life can go, and a child’s imagination.
5;the countdown has begun, good luck men may God be with you.
4;helmets on buckle up.
3;engines started, check, thrusters,check.
2;the hopes and dreams of a nation ride with us. A child’s wide eyes, an engineers hope, and a pilots silent prayer.
1 liftoff 

Writing Synapses

Unbelievable Food

Food, it may be the language that unites us all! This week don't just write about a dish make one up. Create a whole new dish from the beginning, where do the ingredients come from? An open air market? The forrest? A different planet? Tell us what the dish smells like, what it looks like, and most importantly what it taste like! 
    Get your creative taste buds flowing and create amazing masterpieces with your pencil for your stomachs. Will you make Ostrich egg omelets?  Stardust soup? Wildebeest steak with mashed tubers and roasted salad greens? Good luck and good eating!!!

WILD

Wild

I am wild 
as untamable as the mountains 
I call home 
as free as the winter wind
that whips through the valleys 
as free as the snow 
that covers my paws
as powerful as the crystalline glaciers 
reflected in my eyes 
I am as precious 
as the stars that bear their souls in the heavens 
I have an ancient blood line 
as old as the seas
I will be here long after mens writings have become 
ashes in the dust 
I will always be wild

Courage

I am hidden in every mans 
heart
I am there when all others have 
fled 
I am a prayer for a safe
return
I am rage when a friend 
falls 
I am a shield to a 
family 
I am a spear to the 
enemy 
I turn ordinary men into 
heros 
I am courage 

A Tree

Up in a tree I watch the world go by
The fast cars race along a black path
I watch the birds twitter here and there
The wind gently blows my hair
and makes the leaves rustle
like a thousand wind chimes
the sun sets washing the sky in 
blood red and sunflower yellow
up in a tree the world goes by
and I watch and listen 
safe up in a tree

A soldiers Prayer

Please bless this mans heart 
fill it with courage 
please bless this mans body 
give it strength and power
please bless this mans family 
who waits fro him at home 
but if deaths soft embrace 
takes this mans soul
then please bless this mans sons 
give them the will to carry on 
please bless this mans daughters 
give them hope in their darkest hour
and please bless this mans wife
give her my love 
and give her the strength to love again 
this I ask 
Amen

Rain Race

The cloud says 
go 
The sill says 
stop 
And I say 
winner
to the little raindrops 
racing 
down the the 
window pain 

What Came Before

A debt unpaid

    The hotel ballroom is alive with color and light, laughter fills the room as I walk in. I flash a smile to blend in, the most ruthless hitmen, warlords, and crime bosses mingle with their associates at the tables. Their guards stand at intervals around the room machine guns and Ak-47s slung across their backs along with various other weapons. A waiter with a tray of champagne offers me a glass I thank him and take a sip as I continue walking into the room. He's here I know it, all those years of plotting and months of tracking down dead ends and empty answers I am finally going to get revenge for my father and for myself. I am not eight anymore this time when I see his face I won't cry, I won't hesitate, I will kill him. I brush my hand quickly against my dress to make sure my gun is still hidden in its folds. I...

Liftoff

The suits are heavy and tight our only protection. The crackling of the coms the only sound 
up on the dash lights blink and flash out the window heavens starry gates open wide for 
us. Our mission, to push the boundaries of where life can go and a child’s imagination.
 5 the countdown has begun, good luck men may God be with you. 4 helmets on buckle
 up 3 engines started check thrusters check 2 the hopes and dreams of a nation ride 
 with us a child’s wide eyes an engineers hope and a pilots silent prayer 
1 liftoff 

Homecoming


She hasn’t spotted me yet, her gaze floating through the crowed searching. A little 
boy stands close to her leg his tiny fingers clutch a crayon colored sign 
 ‘Welcome Home Daddy’. Will he even know who I am? He’s walking 
And talking I hear though I have never heard his voice. A tear falls 
down my face as I step out, her eyes find mine and she looks down 
At our son pointing with a teary smile on her face. He looks up at me 
and every nightmare every ounce of pain was worth it to hear my son say
“ Daddy.”

Sea Storm

Grey clouds warning of the coming battle
the fighters prepare
like boxers 
waiting in their corners
their feet restless 
back and forth 
their first hits 
jabs testing 
finding the others weakness 
faster and harder 
bleeding rocks and foam 
the gulls scream their wild cheers
the oceans wild angry fury
the shorelines steadfast defense 
there is no winner 
there never is 
both slowly walk away 
bruised and bloody 
calm returns 
the ring is empty 
all that is left are the scars 
carved anew into 
each fighters face

What Came Before

A debt unpaid

The hotel ballroom is alive with color and light, laughter fills the room as I walk in. I flash a smile to blend in, the most ruthless hitmen, warlords, and crime bosses mingle with their associates at the tables. Their guards stand at intervals around the room machine guns and Ak-47s slung across their backs along with various other weapons. A waiter with a tray of champagne offers me a glass I thank him and take a sip as I continue walking into the room. He's here I know it, all those years of plotting and months of tracking down dead ends and empty answers I am finally going to get revenge for my father and for myself. I am not eight anymore this time when I see his face I won't cry, I won't hesitate, I will kill him. I brush my hand quickly against my dress to make sure my gun is still hidden in its folds. I...

What Came Before

A debt unpaid

The hotel ballroom is alive with color and light, laughter fills the room as I walk in. I flash a smile to blend in, the most ruthless hitmen, murders, and crime bosses mingle with their associates at the tables. Their guards stand at intervals around the room machine guns and Ak-47s slung across their backs along with various other weapons. A waiter with a tray of champagne offers me a glass I thank him and take a sip as I continue walking into the room. He's here I know it, all those years of plotting and months of tracking down dead ends and empty answers I am finally going to get revenge for my father and for myself. I am not eight anymore this time when I see his face I won't cry or hesitate I will kill him. I brush my hand quickly against my dress to make sure my gun is still hidden in its folds. I scan...

Names, Names, Names

Names

A breakfast joint  Sunny side up
A new smartphone Laurel
An eyeglasses store All seeing eye: Glasses and more
A dog pound ​Runaway Mutts
A highway Orphan Highwa
An island resort No shoes resort and spa
A new constellation Hero's heart
A pet polar bear Helen
A nail polish color Island Waters
A new butterfly species Lantern light Butterfly

1 Photo, 100 Words

Dream

I wonder through the crowds, watching the creatures float in their tank. I press myself to the glass to get a closer look, suddenly the glass under me cracks. It spreads until the tank shaders. People start screaming and running as the water sweeps them up, the jellyfish follow the water. I'm trapped underwater I can hear screams of pain and panic, but my own pleas are silent. In the dim light I can see one searching for me. It stretches its tentacle towards me, my heart stops. I wake to a jellyfish staring at me through its intact tank.