Scribble Scribe

(Source: verseinspire, via verseinspire)

(Source: dancingtilldawn, via philsterman01)

Putting this on my writing blog because my phone doesn’t have the read more option and I don’t want everyone to think I’m begging for sympathy. Because I just needed to get this crap out if my system. Why am I writing this here and now? Why not talk to someone? Because I don’t want anyone to feel sorry for me. I don’t want to be told “it’ll be okay. You’re really pretty. People like you. I still love you”. Because I know that. I just… don’t think hearing it is going to do me any good right now. But i know I need to get it out. Maybe I’m depressed and unaware of it. Maybe that’s why I’ve been so tired and stressed. I’ve been thinking a lot lately. Thinking about things that I have long since buried and gotten over. Like all the guys who have liked me or said I was pretty, flirted with me but dropped me soon after and ran away as usual. Especially this last year and this year. I think of high school, how I was invisible girl. When not even my friends would call me up and ask to hang out. I think of next year. When the two close friends I’ve made wont be near me and I’ll be rooming with a stranger again. I’m so terribly scared. More than I let on. I’m terrified because of my first roommate. I think of my relationship with God. I feel like I can’t be good enough. That I’m not doing enough, when I know I have grown so much in the past few months, when I finally know where my life is turning. I think of myself. I look in the mirror, in pictures, and see nothing good, where a week ago I felt so confident and pretty. I think of my friends. The different groups I’m a part of. I feel like the weakest link in one. The one with the lowest skill, not good enough to critique well enough, only good for writing. Only there because someone thought to include me because they like me. In other groups I feel like I disappoint them. Because I get so hung up on the same old issues… Yet I feel like very few CAN understand them, or know how to fix them. I guess it’s one reason I haven’t been on much. So I don’t feel like that, almost put down. I’ve been away. Trying to distract myself. Fool myself into thinking I’m happy. But being sick with allergies and exhausted, I finally broke down. I guess I’m just in one of those funks, y’know?

Candle light plays
with the shadows on the wall,
as the room grows
dimmer
with each drop of wax.

Quill dances with parchment and creates
figures of amethyst, letters of gold,
circlets of scarlet, and knots of onyx
all applied with caution and care.
No detail forgotten.
No space left blank.
Each border straight.
Each corner ornate.

Whispers of freedom whistle outside.
The temptation to leave
the Book is strong.

But the Book must be finished.
Precious colors consume
the white of life that fades away
where time does not exists.

The world outside must carry on
for the toil found within is
sacred.

she said
with that silky voice I loved.
Posy pink on perfect lips,
she was stunning in the back seat,
just as she was on our first date.
Shadowed eyes, lined with black, stared
away from the boring beige interior.

I longed
to talk with her
“Bit cloudy today, isn’t it?”
but she despised cheap lines
and the stale smell of old cabs.
I heard the faint blow of air
as she dispelled the stench from her nostrils.

I knew she hated
the old, the grime, the dirt
of New York and longed for
the new, the fresh, the clean
of the country.
I loved when she’d excitedly exclaim,
“It’ll have a big house with plants and trees!”

We veered
off Washington and continued on shady Jane.
Eyes downcast,
she paid the fee, and I heard the click
of heels on pavement.

I turned
my cab around the corner, and looked in the rearview
to catch one last glimpse
as she walked to the apartments
alone.

We played dress-up in our grandmothers’ clothing.

There was never a sense of sadness in those old dresses.

We were not at all related, but we were sisters nonetheless.

Without the pearl necklaces and you, my life would be different.

There was never a sense of sadness in those old dresses.

We’d laugh as we brought to life our future as mothers and wives.

Without the pearl necklaces and you, my life would be different.

You’ve helped me grow into who I am today.

We’d laugh as we brought to life our future as mothers and wives.

Before our eyes, our childish dreams unfolded.

You’ve helped me grow into who I am today.

Though we have different genes, we’ll always be a part of one another.

Before our eyes, our childish dreams unfolded.

We are no longer children. We each walk separate paths.

But, though we have different genes, we’ll always be a part of one another.

We are not at all related, but we are still sisters nonetheless.

I will be putting up some of the poems from my poetry class up here. Not all of them, and not the best ones so far, as I am trying to get a couple of them published. But I hope you enjoy what you read. :)

spookydiddy:

maeofspooks:

Christy and I, side by side, granny to granny

*dead*

(Source: awesomebunnies, via doodlediddy)

The unblemished sheet of paper
that mockingly reminded him of his pending due date.
Ideas danced out of his grasp as they led him along
through the labyrinth
of his imagination.

Ethereal images loomed
only fade into the darkness,
brightly colored inspirations that budded
on thin, spindly vines
their small petals shut tight, sheltering secrets,
and tall trees
bore their forbidden fruits
out of reach of greedy human hands.

Small, happy, childhood dreams played gaily
laughter echoing around him,
He walked along
the path

until he reached the end,

where familiar stones met new snow that stretched far beyond sight, silent and white.
He looked back
into his labyrinth
He knew that well beaten path enfolded him
in warmth and comfort. The looming fear of the unknown
was not present here. 
But the promise of a new start called,

Sounds of crunching snow replaced the loud silence as his foot stepped down.
He placed pen to paper.