Thursday, October 29, 2009

Thank You For All You've Been

I guess i never fully appreciated
The person that you were
I was to caught up
In a silly love triangle
Between
You
Me
And my heart
My stupid heart
That made me fall
So madly in love with you
Even though
Deep down
I knew it couldn't last forever
But now that your gone
I realized how lucky i was
To have been able
To call you mine
And I want to thank you
For the special memories
That might cause me
Heartache for a while
But will end up
Meaning a lot to me
In the future

Wednesday, October 28, 2009

Prices Payed

Now that you are gone
There is nothing more
For me to live for
You were everything to me
You weren't just a friend
You were something more
Someone I truly loved
And now your gone
Just like that
And the memories
I have of you
Haunt me like a waking dream
Silence suffocates me
As I lie away at night
Waiting for the tears
That won't come
I let you into my heart
To freely
And now I play the price
For loving you to much

Monday, October 26, 2009

Truth & Lies

This is all so
Confusing
Crazy
Heavy-heartening
One minute
You seem to love me
The next
You don't
I wish you would tell me
What was bothering you
Or at least the truth
Don't lie to me
I hate that
I can see right through you
I can read you
Like an open book
I know there is something
You're not telling me
Something that would put
All the pieces
Of the puzzle together
Then at last
I could rest in peace
And happiness
And joy
I won't hate you
Or think bad of you
If you just tell me the truth
You're crushing me
Suffocating me
Making my love for you
Fade
So please
If you love me
Don't lie
Just tell me the truth

Wednesday, October 21, 2009

Galway County, Wisconsin

[A short story for my creative writing class. Any criticism appreciated.]

Horace sat alone at the kitchen table, reading his newest volume of Irish history. He didn’t notice that his mug of hot cider had melted the thin plastic of the tablecloth again. Silently turning the pages, Horace lost himself in the mysteries of the old country. By degrees, he lost all sense of self. He forgot he was a sixty-three year old man in Wisconsin; in his mind he was a strong young man in Ireland. He forgot he worked in a sad gray office building all day; in his mind he was a historical researcher for National Geographic, being paid to explore the weird old ruins on Ireland’s rugged west coast, near the choppy shores of the North Atlantic.

Holding the heavy book, Horace fell into a half-sleep. Suddenly, he wasn’t pretending anymore—he truly believed he was an explorer in Ireland. In his half-conscious stupor, Horace went over to the closet to put on some hiking boots. Opening the door, he hardly blinked as various odds and ends clattered out into the hall behind him. He put on two mismatching hiking boots and a bright yellow raincoat over his rumpled plaid shirt. With a gray fedora on his graying head and an old umbrella in hand, he ventured forth.

Outside, it was snowing for about the fortieth time that winter. “How curious! Snow, at this time of year!” Horace shouted madly to himself, his gray mustache positively quivering with excitement. “And in the county Galway! Won’t Penny be surprised to hear this!” He twirled dizzily in the wind.

Horace meandered across the gritty sand toward the shoreline of Lake Michigan. “The sea! The sea! I must be in Galway Bay!” he cried, swaying a bit in the gale. His poor umbrella struggled valiantly, suddenly turning inside out. “Oysters, I must dig for oysters!” Horace poked rather limply at the snowy sand with the broken umbrella.

A Coast Guard officer was patrolling the perimeter of the shore. She frowned. What was this man doing out here, in the cold? Surely he’d heard the news of the imminent blizzard. “Hey, what are you doing?” she called out.

“Digging for oysters!” Horace cried, triumphantly displaying his catch.

The officer looked at Horace’s fist dubiously. It was clutching a bunch of rocks, dead plant matter, and sand. “Oh really?” She reached for the walkie-talkie on her hip.

Suddenly, Horace lurched over, snatching the device. “An artifact!” he crowed. “Good work, little lady! But this is only the beginning. We have so much left to find!” And with that, he turned around abruptly and galloped into the frigid water, now swirling with snow.

The officer kicked off her heavy boots and dove in after him. One way or another, Horace landed face-up on the Wisconsin beach. Soon enough he was in a screaming ambulance, tearing down the slippery streets.

He gasped desperately for breath. He came out of his trance. Someone was pushing on his ribcage. His lungs were on fire.

Horace frowned, struggling to focus on the hazy figures swarming above him in the dry, warm darkness. “Where am I?” he asked feebly.

The officer stopped giving CPR and smirked. “County Galway Hospital.”

Thursday, October 15, 2009

My Refuge

The chair is black, only the smallest semblance of a back. The pedals are three brassy, slightly cool metal levers; my right foot on the far right, my left foot on far left—I leave the center one on its own. The keys are familiar wood, somewhat glossy, smudgy in places but still comfortable. Gold lettering names some obscure manufacturer from Baltimore. Above, 264 little pegs—three for each of the 88 keys—hold wire strings taut for worn hammers to tap or pound. The lid, with its faintly peeling black, paint, is closed.

My fingers and my brain think together, one leaving off where the other begins. I find some sense of peace here that I cannot find elsewhere. My problems are reduced to coordination of my hands, producing the next chord in a pleasing way, deciding whether high notes or low octaves are better, dynamics. And none these decisions is constricting, inalterable: I can take back anything, play it again, experiment with different melodies and harmonies. I can play the same two F sharps with my left hand for half an hour, and no one will care, because I’m alone and listening.

Sometimes, when I am done with an idea, I like to play a nice ending chord and hold down the sustain pedal. I can take my fingers off the keys and listen to the notes fade into nothingness. A minute, two minutes can go by before I can no longer detect the notes.

Wednesday, September 30, 2009

i dont know...

I want to laugh...

I want to scream!
That feeling inside me...
Like I'm bursting at the seams!

Imploding, and choking...
hoping and wishing...

stopping.
and sitting.
and breathing.
and then...
realization.

the feelings, the stress.
i am alive.
but im proud of this.

you

did you know?

that sometimes i'll think about you,
the way you talk,
that sense of humor,
but also,
how you care about so much.

except...
im not the person that'll wait on your calls...
i get pissed if you forget,
but i'll forget too.
i sometimes just think that we can be the best of friends,
it'll be great, i'll be happy...
but then i remember this.

i remember that feeling in my stomach,
where i know i never want to be anywhere else...
that knowledge that for once...
my head is a gooey mess.

i remember the fact...
that i love you as such a good friend,
but when i see you... every once and a while...
i wish that you knew what i meant.

untitled

its weird...

when i mention this. i freeze.
i want to say don't laugh. i'll cry.
don't mention it, don't worry.
but i know. i want to hear this...
i want to know what people think,
i want verification, some safety net...
but that can't just happen.
i want to hear, "this imagery is perfect!"
or "that flows just right...."
but critique is life.
if i learn. i grow.
so i just have to keep telling people,
that this is me.

Monday, September 28, 2009

MY bloggggg

i'm copying maddie and i want you ppl to comment on my blog 2 cuz i like NVR get any comments anymore.

It's http://dostuffwritestuffbynoodle.blogspot.com/

Thank You!
Noodle

Thursday, September 24, 2009

my blogg

hey please check out my blog! its got a lot of the stuff i put on here, but it has moree :) please comment on my poems, and idkkk. the link is there, and the other blog links i have are good too :)




http://maddie-live-laugh-love-write.blogspot.com/

Sunday, September 13, 2009

Tobias Fulner and the Art of Persuasion

(Disclaimer: this is a farce, and a poorly written one at that. Do you think I can save it in any form? This was written for my self-imposed Tobias Fulner writing challenge. Ladies, I'm waiting for your entries!)

Tobias Fulner was a very young man who believed in the power of the art of persuasion. Every day he would lift his head off of the pillow, stretch, yawn, and persuade himself that the world needed him to get up. And so he did.

Tobias was not a good student in the classical sense of things. He did not like to do homework or yardwork or woodwork or anything he deemed "immoral", a word he used so often it appeared to have less to do with morals than the principle of the thing. His parents deemed him an unruly child and made up their minds to send him to military school.

Little to their knowledge, Tobias, being a believer in the power of the art of persuasion, soon surpassed their wildest dreams and had quickly become an integral part of the Premier's inner circle of military advisors. Unfortunately for his country, Tobias knew nothing of military strategy. All he had was a gift for persuasion and a spunky, lopsided sort of charm.

Therefore, to the chagrin of all the other advisors, the country entered a war in a far corner of the globe. However, this war did not last very long, as Mr. Fulner quickly persuaded the other side to simply give up.

The next day, there was a ticker-tape parade in celebration of the heroic Tobias Fulner. All the children stood outside of their gloomy apartments and cheered for this bemused, funny-looking man who had a way with children and convincing adults to do things.

Later, spurred by the attentions of the local media, Tobias grew interested in the prospect of power, based on things other than persuasion. He had grown tired of continuously having to convince other people to do things. So, he decided one morning as he persuaded himself to get out of bed, he would do his last big job of persuasion. He would persuade the country to replace him as their leader.

So he got in front of the television cameras and the bloggers' screens and made his case. It was quite persuasive, and soon people began to question why he wasn't their leader in the first place. So the whole country mutinied and installed Premier Fulner. Actually, it wasn't a real mutiny per se, as the original premier was persuaded to give up his post too.

Satisfied, Tobias sank into a deep slumber in the cushy bed of the Premier's Palace, which had been built for him by an especially sympathetic crew of architects and construction workers. He woke up automatically the next morning when rays of sunshine tickled his retinas. But, having given up persuasion forever, he could not convince himself to get out of bed.

Days passed, with no signs of Premier Fulner reaching the outside world. Tobias was bedridden. The population became uneasy. They were unused to functioning without a leader for such a long period of time. On the twelfth day of the Premier's self-imposed exile, the people revolted. They installed a new Premier in his place.

The men from the moving company moved Fulner's bed out of the palace, into a small clearing in the nearby woods. Still Tobias would not stir. As it was, Tobias Fulner could not convince himself to do anything anymore. As is usual with these sorts of things, Tobias Fulner died.

At his funeral, no one quite knew what to say. He was buried under a large statue of a charging horse, in a plot he had persuaded the cemetery owner to give to him for free.

Wednesday, September 2, 2009

My Hearts Desires

What do you call this feeling
The feeling of pure joy
Whenever I'm near you
The feeling that a part of me is missing
Whenever I'm not
How my heart seems to race
At the sound of your name
And all i ever think about
Is you and your perfect smile
What do you call this feeling
I think it's called love

The Neverending Friendship

The simple things
That made me smile
And appreciate the person you were
Even more
A hug when I needed one
Encouragement throughout it all
Our friendship is like a rainbow:
Red like an apple, sweet to the core.
Orange, like an eternal flame, never dying out.
Yellow like the sun that brightens the day.
Green like a plant that keeps on growing.
Blue like the water that is so pure.
Purple like a flower that is ready to bloom.
It may stop growing
Or keep flowering
But it all depends on how hard it works to stay alive
I hope we continue to nurture the flower
That is our beautiful friendship
So that, like the eternal flame
It will last forever

Saturday, August 29, 2009

that feeling...

that feeling...

when everything explodes.
when your eyes well up,
and your throat closes.

that feeling....

where you want to whisper their name.
when you need a friend,
and a hug more than anything.

that feeling....

when you know they've won.
when you can feel your life slipping,
and it slides right out of your hands

that feeling...

when you know it went wrong.
when you feel like losing hope,
and you know it's all done.

that feeling.

falling

i wanted to fall,
to finally let myself feel that bliss.
but once i fell,
i realized, you see me as just this.
you see me as a listener.
i great friend, a good person.
but what if i told you,
that i fell... hard.
that i fell for the first time,
that i let myself do this.

what would you say?
if you knew that you were my first REAL crush.
what would you say?
if you knew that i never let myself fall
what would you say?
if i said i wished for anything but this.

Friday, August 21, 2009

I've wished

its times like these...
where i wish i were understood.
that sometimes, i could be left behind,
and others,
when i was just too good.

i wish there were chances,
that i could take!
but i am, who i am,
and if i took those chances,
itd be a mistake.

ive hoped time and time again,
that my heart would be searched for,
just loved so much!
that i could be cherished,
that my heart means more.

Monday, August 17, 2009

Memories For My Father

I miss your smile
your laugh echoing as I ran,
trying to catch rays of sun
between my fingertips.
Your feet shaking the ground,
trying to run,
to catch me if I would fall.
The moments
when the world was ours
for the taking,
dancing in the rain,
falling under the wind,
coloring the sky.
Your hollow heartbeat
never supporting me as I grew,
always
your little girl.

Tuesday, August 11, 2009

miss

i miss those days.
the ones with lightning bugs and old glass jars
when i played snake on my mom's nokia cell phone
and little kids still would wear overalls.

i miss those times when disney was classic
the times when TV shows didn't let kissing be a normal occurrence
and the movies were classics
animations a new creation.

i miss those nights
when stars were gazed upon
when the music genre loved was pop!
and i didn't feel safe without a night light to sleep.

i miss the times
where life could stay simple
where technology didn't seem insane
where i always loved my family
and drama wasn't so insane/

i miss the heart
in people
the smiles people used to wear
i miss hope and chance
i miss the imagination i once had.

i miss a lot....
but the generations now miss more.

Thursday, August 6, 2009

Poetry Anthology

Hi all! I've just posted 6 poems that I find better than the rest on my blog (StoryOfAshley.blogspot.com). Please go look at them and tell me what you think. THANKS!!

Thursday, July 23, 2009

Untitled

Her soft strawberry blonde hair rested on her delicate shoulders in the park where she waited. Leila, my Leila, was smart girl, strong willed, and her happiness means everything to me; I only wish that she knew that I loved her. My name is Carter, and as I see her eyes light up to see me, I smile with a bouquet of flowers behind my back. I walk up saying, "Hey Leila, you know..." She responds with "Yea? Carter..." it quickly escaped her mouth, as if she wanted to say something, and needed me to finish. "I love you, always have, always will..." I say as I slowly bring out her favorite flowers... lilacs. Leila disregards the flowers, and hands me a note and mumbles goodbye. No louder than a whisper. I look closer at her then, I see the tears. I see the newly opened bottle of sleeping pills... empty. Her eyes go blank, body falls limp. I look at the letter. It says,

"I love you Carter, always have, always will."

Love

Love is the idea that you can't live without them.
That they are the dam to your river...
The life when you're no longer living.
The hopefuls when you're hopeless.
Your loves sew you up,
Or rip you down
In the end.

Wednesday, July 22, 2009

Music

Music can course through your veins in a way that nothing else can. Music provokes emotions, and there is a constant about music, anyone that can hear, enjoys some form. You can sing at the top of your lungs, or you can listen to something as you drift to sleep. Music never stops playing, there is always someone listening or playing some beat, so maybe that is why it’s so beloved. I love the fact that music can just engross me, when I am in my room, just lying around, and I hear a lyric start to play, and I listen. I really and truly listen. The lyrics that play may be so energetic that you can’t help but to get up and dance. They may be so melancholy, that you just want to cry. Whether it is for a mistake made, or hearing how much love there can be in a person. You don’t hear of that love much anymore, which is part of the reason that country music appeals to me so much. It gives me, almost a security blanket… I know what they’re singing about, and it’s nice to be able to pick out every lyric sung. The best feeling in the world, next to being near the people you love, and laughing so hard you cry, is to sing with a huge group of people. People with different backgrounds, different histories, different ranges of being off-key, can join together, and sing… sing like there is no end of the world, but if there is, it’s okay to leave now.

Tuesday, July 21, 2009

music

I'd forgotten about
closing my eyes,
music blaring loud,
and the ability to listen...
to hear the beating of the drums,
the strums of the guitar,
and to hear those lyrics
and take them to heart.
I'd forgotten about the real reason music existed

Famous First Lines

In the heat of the night
They forgot about the children
All four of them
Lucy, Paul, Daniel and Penelope
Abandoned
Left to fend for themselves
Alone
In the dark and decrepid house
They had once called home
The furniture lay in ruins
The picture frames all cracked and torn
And the four children
Huddled together on the floor
Forgotten
In the heat of the night

I've hoped more times than you've counted

I've hoped more times than you've counted
wished more than you could hear
I've had these great ideas
unable to force them out of my heart.
I've wanted to say what I could,
but with you looking at me,
I couldn't say it.

Maybe the choked up feeling in my throat,
the never mind mumbled and face going bright
Maybe the realization that I'm not in your eyes
Had me shove down those words
I'm longing to say.

Monday, July 20, 2009

I Was a Person

There was no way for you to help
I always needed you
I sent all the signs
Almost begging on my knees
I was pleading and changing
In a way you couldn't dream.
I was hoping that one last shout, would change how you see
I was wrong, that much is evident
I hoped you could believe in me
I knew I was not worth your time.
You just were not here
You ran so many charities,
You helped so many other people
But the one you forgot was me.
I was passed the point of redemption
Maybe you knew that
Maybe you immersed yourself in all that good, to make up for all my bad.
I love you
You loved me
I was a person
Before you forgot

Before you forgot
I was a person
You loved me
I love you
Maybe you immersed yourself in all that good, to make up for all my bad.
Maybe you knew that
I was passed the point of redemption
But the one you forgot was me.
You helped so many other people
You ran so many charities,
You just were not here
I knew I was not worth your time.
I hoped you could believe in me
I was wrong, that much is evident
I was hoping that one last shout, would change how you see
In a way you couldn't dream.
I was pleading and changing
Almost begging on my knees
I sent all the signs
I always needed you
There was no way for you to help

What it's ;ike living in Hingham, Mass

Here's what it's like:
Let's say you've just jumped out
Of a hot, crowded car
To the sound of hello's
And the warm embrace of your cousins
You traipse into the house, carrying your bags
You drop everything on the bedroom floor
And change into your bathing suit
You hop into a car
Even more crowded than before
And speed away to the refreshing coolness
Of the country club pool
You play and joke around
And beg the parents
To order the traditional spicy fries
That we get every year
After indulging ourselves
We head to the beach and wait
For the sun to set and to be awed
By the magnificent fireworks held there
Oooing and ahhing
At each burst of color
After what could pass as a good night sleep
You dress up in red, white, and blue
And drag beach chairs to the annual
4th of July parade
You hoot and holler at each passing float
Your pockets bulging from all the candy you were thrown
As you mill around after
Waiting for the crowd to disperse
You swap candy and take family photos
You walk down the block
Where the smell of your uncles bbq
Drifts lazily on the wind
You crush your cousins in badminton
And are rewarded with ice creams from the Red Store
Two houses over
Each day is another adventure
Crashing through the waves at Hingham Harbor one day
Climbing and exploring Fort Revere the next
That's what it's like living in Hingham

Friday, July 17, 2009

Touching Me, Touching You

A moonlit night
Your hand in mine
Each passing moment
Something to be cherished
And when all else fails
Thoses memories will be what I hold onto
My lifeline
My hope
But right now
All that matters is you
You are a part of me
Something I can't let go of
My heartbeat seems to call your name
Each breath wispers "I love you"
Like an angel sent from heaven
You watch over me
You pull me into your arms
And your embrace surrounds me
Love seems to roll off you in waves
Each new wave brings about
Even deeper feelings for you
All these feelings
Memories
Are worth the world to me
And I would like to show you
How much they mean to me
As we walk
Hand in hand
Into the moonlight

Coming Back

There is something different

Coming back that next year.

You expect all the fun,

Yet you wish that it’d never change.

There always new people,

New experiences and adventures.

But each year, there are less and less.

I can picture the tables I’d walk up to in the morning

The soft green grass, and the big twisting tree.

Each year I have come back to new people,

I have just hoped, that I’ll never lose this place in my heart.

Wednesday, July 15, 2009

not done yet but just thot i'd post it

A distant breeze
Rustles my leaves
And the sound of voices
Is carried on the wind
The hot tropical sun
Furiously beats down
Trying to find
A way to escape
To find the surface
Of the cool water
Through my leafy branches

I Was a Person

There was no way for you to help
Although I always needed you
You were not here
You ran so many charities,
You helped so many other people
But the one you forgot was me.
I was passed the point of redemption
Maybe you knew that
Maybe you immersed yourself in all that good, to make up for all my bad.
I was a person
Before you forgot

Before you forgot
I was a person
Maybe you immersed yourself in all that good, to make up for all my bad.
Maybe you knew that
I was passed the point of redemption
But the one you forgot was me.
You helped so many other people
You ran so many charities,
You were not here
Although I always needed you
There was no way for you to help.

Put yourself in a picture

A cool night is being replaced, the sun making its way up the sky, removing those night chills, leaving a warmth blanketing the new day. I feel the water, smooth glass lapping and running though me, long ago I lost the fight against the water. This water dug a grove though me, boats now frequenting a spot that used to be mine; but I cannot fight them and I will not win, I have no control, I just am.

I know that I am beautiful, that my jagged edges were long ago admired. That with the water, I was the rough edge of a smooth surface. Most of all I realized that everyone has placed me with the water, yes we are here, but the water has never been constant. Like many people's experiences here, water is as fleeting as a summer romance.

The sun is now high in the sky, I can feel how dry my rocks are, despite the green rooted in me. The water is particularly cool, the mist spitting against the jagged rocks, leaving a salty smell that I find so endearing.

I remember

I remember
crispy leaves falling apart beneath my feet
smoke in the distance leaving a warm homey feel
the air rushing to me, cold enough that
any drowse i felt disappeared.

I remember
the muted sound of footprints approaching
and the sound of laughter filling the house

I remember
walking inside hearing my name shouted loud
and being greeted with bright eyes, rosy
cheeks and smiles that let you know your loved.

I remember
the soft cotton called snow gently blanketing
the world

I remember the place I love to call home.

Not finished yet but just thot i'd post it

I remember when
The streets had no name
And a cold wind
Blew around the houses
A deathly silence
Enveloped the town
And yellow streetlights
Cast a haunting glow
Not a soul moved
Nor a leaf rustled
It was as if life itself
Was holding its breath

Tuesday, July 14, 2009

You can't choreograph life

"You can't choreograph life.
the kids that made history
look just like you.
curiosity is what you ought to have.
Some pictures are worth a thousand words
others are worth so much more
they inspire you, move you
The proudest moment America ever had
was to elect a black man
for his policies."

Memories

Memories

To look back, to hold onto

something that you've already left.

Memories are what hold bonds

sometimes stronger than anything else alive.

They allow empathy, but they can

also be so negative. These are

what trigger someone to live

as though they are experiencing

a traumatic moment that never

will seem to end. The problem is

that time never stands still.

If you hide out, chances are

that the world will move on

without you.

Memories

they hold together our world,

they keep people alive

without the memories

our world would never

have grown.

Monday, July 13, 2009

There

There to keep you from too much pain

Forever someone who will remain a friend

Never going to let you ruin your life

Going to keep life a lovely surprise

To understand and be there when you need me

Let you learn from mistakes, but not let you go too far

You are wonderful, never forget that

Go make your life meaningful… I can’t help with everything