Cinder

This love we're working on
It's like our last breath
We're trapped in it
With no escapes

No one can save us now
We've cried wolf too many times
We're headed on a downward spiral
Surrounded by the ash of our extinguished flame

I was the sketch where the lines aren't right
You were the fantasy come true
Then your light went away
And my darkness shone through

You pull through the gloom
I revel in the grey
I target the weak spots
You get hurt because you forgot your armor

So we cry about the pain
'Til all we are is ash stained eyes
You think we'd let go some how
You think we would've figured out how

Frost

The first frost has officially hit. It really is beginning to look a lot like Christmas, and yes the song is stuck in my head. With Thanksgiving just a few days away I am truly grateful for so many things. I am thankful that the school year is almost done and that i am graduating, though it is stressful. I am thankful that after the next few days things will calm down again and the drama will settle for a few weeks. And, as per the usual, I am thankful for my friends  because you keep me sane, my family though you drive me insane, my husband for just keeping me, and my muse because without you I swear i would have quit writing ages ago. 
Have a happy Thanksgiving everyone! I hope that we all eat enough turkey to sleep blissfully though the rest of the weekend.

Winter Incoming

Every year the geese return to campus and
it lets me know that winter is on the way. This was taken last week and today the cold has hit in full force. I walked out today and it was 28 degrees. So this is my welcome to winter and the geese I am happy the cold is here now maybe the allergies will die down and I can stop sneezing. Poetry of fall to come later! Man I love winter. 

Detective

            I walk up to the giant wooden doors. Brass knocker, looking like gargoyles, hang just above my head. I look to my left and see a button for the doorbell and press it. An older gentleman dressed in a suit opens the door.

                        “May I help you?” he drones.

                        “My name is Ember Gilmoore. I am here to see Mr. Caesarea,” I reply.

                        “Come in.”

            I walk past the man and marvel at the house before me. The marble stairs rose before me. The wood banister curled with the twist of the stairs. When my eyes reached the top they fall upon deep black matte loafers. As my eyes drift up I scan across slate grey slacks, shiny onyx belt, and a burnt orange shirt unbuttoned at the top.

                        “Miss Gilmoore how can I help you?” he asks descending the stairs.

                        “I am here about Milo Vasquez.”

                        “What about him?”

                        “He’s dead.”

                        “I am aware Miss Gilmoore. What is your point?”

                        “Did you do it?” I ask.

He smirks slyly at me then turns and heads into what appears to be a den.

Neverland

So I have been on this Disney kick lately and a lot of my poetry has been reflecting it. This one came about listening to Avril Lavinge's Never Grow Up. It made me think of Neverland and Peter Pan.

Remember us?

The actual us,

Before the hormones took over.

When it was music and video games.

When life was nothing but fun.

We were lost in young.

I never though we'd lose that.

I never thought we'd grow up.

You were Peter Pan and I was Tinker Belle.

You believed in me and I in you.

You clapped hard and kept me and the faeries alive.

We were on a constant ride.

Second star to the right.

To Neverland with endless adventure.

But you left one night,

And when you came back... Wendy.

You stopped believing,

The clapping died down.

The dream was over.

I traded my faerie wings for real life,

And by the time you came back, the faeries had died.

Here's a link to the song that inspired the work:

Never Growing Up

Who you are

I was listening to Jessie J's "Who You Are" and it mad me think back to the time in my life when my eating disorder ruled my life. It kinda hit home. We all have scars, bumps, bruises, and pasts that don't make life the easiest journey. At then end of the day though its all about who you are.

 Who You Are

     I look in the mirror

What do I see?

I see flaws, imperfections

Staring at me.

So today I'll suck on ice cubes

And run off everything I eat.

Starving makes me pretty, right?

Or so they say at least.

But now I lack the energy,

To breathe or even think.

I don't have the strength

To create the voice that I need.

The one that cries for help,

The one that knows I'm not ok.

But the help comes from unexpected places,

And the strength eventually returns.

I'm back on my own two feet now.

And am safe in my own skin.

The battle is a daily struggle.

But this is a war I'll win.

Hint

So what is it about you ask? Why don't you leave a comment and take a stab at it. I'll let you know what it's all about. Just make an educated guess, no worries i won't make too much fun of you for your answers. If ti helps its a hint to the poem i post a week or so ago. 

105 Little Blades in a Line

My phone goes off again. I touch the screen and see that image of us from earlier this year at your brother’s concert. They had one battle of the bands and we were both so happy. ‘I miss you’ the text read, and all I can think is I’m right here. I pick up the next metallic sliver and bring it to my flesh. The cold metal bites into my skin the warm blood flows out of the wound, a deep red, as air hits it. Tears hit the open cuts and the salt stings, just another painful reminder I am still alive.

            “Fifteen” I whisper.

This is a portion of the short story I have been working on. Just a bit of it. I'm not done yet but when i am I'll let you know and see about getting more of it up for those who are interested.

Quote

Milkshake?

soo funny

ok so I normally wouldn't post things like this but this is soo funny that I can't help but share it with the world

1000 times

So as an assignment for my creative studies class we are writing a short story. I fell in love with this song after hearing it, it's heart wrenching. I want to take the line 105 blades in a line and play through the song of a girl who wants someone who doesn't want her in the same way.  She has this interior dialog as she goes through the blades thinking of him, her and their past, counting the blades as she uses them. At the end she commits suicide. Not the happiest of endings, but then again not everyone gets a happy ending. Let me know what you think.

What is it

As smooth as expensive wine, 

You relish as it hits your palette.

As soft as silk across your skin, 

You tremble at the touch.

As warm as a summer breeze,

You wrap up in the heat.

As deep as the ocean blue,

You plunge into it.

So what's it about you ask? Why don't you tell me. Make an educated guess. I promise not to poke to much fun for the answers i get. Maybe if you're lucky i will post a hint later.

Love,

Storms 

How Big is Your Brave

So I found this last night after hearing the song on the radio. I love the song it just seems to make my day better no matter how cruddy I feel. In the video there are people randomly dancing in odd locations. This just reminded me of me because I am the weirdo who dances in grocery aisles, in the car, walking to class, and anywhere and everywhere in between. It makes me wanna get up and dance. The message in the video is highly positive too. Some have even made and anti bully version of this that you can watch here:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XumwBJEwhY0
So, how big is your brave?
P.S. I feel a poem inspired by this song coming on. I'll be sure to get it up as soon as i have it.

10 blogs of interest

The Daily Bitch http://brain-soup.blogspot.com/
just a dream behind my eyes http://www.tkbrink.blogspot.com/
Courage 2 Create http://www.tkbrink.blogspot.com/
THEthe Poetry Blog http://www.thethepoetry.com/
Vintage Pen News http://vintagepensblog.blogspot.com/
The Dancer's Blog http://thedancersblog.tumblr.com/
The Onion http://www.theonion.com/
Reign of Gaming http://www.reignofgaming.net/ 
The World of Edgar Allen Poe http://worldofpoe.blogspot.com/ 
Gymtruthteller's Blog http://gymtruthteller.wordpress.com/

I really enjoyed The Vintage Pen. It helps that it is something i am interested in. I feel that the blogs strengths are that it is eye catching. The background is really plain but that makes it stand out, and the header image gets your attention.

The ideas I got for my own blog is that maybe i could be a bit plainer in my text. I like to change color but that may not be reader friendly. Also finding accompanying images help with keeping the reader interested so i may try that out.

The header is a little hard to read and so I think that a text color change may be needed.

About This...

So to all of those who will be reading this, whether I asked you to or you just happened across me, welcome! This blog is going to be my creative life blood. Everything I am working on creatively I will post here. Most of it will be poems some short stories and maybe even some snips from the novel I am currently working on. I also want to post quotes, poems. snips of stories, even music that I love or inspires me. Feel free to comment or leave a message or note I will be sure to get back to you as soon as I can. 

Creatively yours,

Storms

Parting is Such Sweet Sorrow

Goodnight sweet friend

Goodnight my confidant

                 my muse

                 my spark of light

Sleep well and I will see you in the morning light

                                      -S

Sleep tight, my sweet, and rest your eyes

Tomorrow will come soon enough, but now is time for goodbyes

Sleep well, relax, unwind your muscles, so tired

And drift off to wonderland, and all the dreams you've so desired

                        - CMc

This was a message between my muse and I sent to say goodnight. It was so poetic and full of emotion I couldn't help but post it. I think we do nothing but speak like this most of the time. Though it does remind me of Alice in Wonderland. This world of madness inspires me. We will see what happens...

Hope

This hangs in my dining room. It's close enough to my workspace that i see it all the time. It's also the last thing I see before I leave my house every morning. It reminds me to carry hope for the day no matter how little because even something as small as a bird perched outside a window can be inspiration to the creative soul. For example Ms Emily Dickinson.

“Hope” is the thing with feathers - (314)

By Emily Dickinson

“Hope” is the thing with feathers -

That perches in the soul -

And sings the tune without the words -

And never stops - at all -

And sweetest - in the Gale - is heard -

And sore must be the storm -

That could abash the little Bird

That kept so many warm -

I’ve heard it in the chillest land -

And on the strangest Sea -

Yet - never - in Extremity,

It asked a crumb - of me.

Poe

So I walked into my living room this evening to grab a book and saw this guys sitting on my entertainment center. I gave his head a tap and chuckled a little and then took the Poe anthology from beneath him and walked out. This wasn't even the book I walked in for  but now here I am reading it again. He is probably my favorite poet. I got hooked after reading Anabelle Lee.

Annabel Lee

It was many and many a year ago,
In a kingdom by the sea,
That a maiden there lived whom you may know
By the name of ANNABEL LEE;
And this maiden she lived with no other thought
Than to love and be loved by me.

I was a child and she was a child,
In this kingdom by the sea;
But we loved with a love that was more than love-
I and my Annabel Lee;
With a love that the winged seraphs of heaven
Coveted her and me.

And this was the reason that, long ago,
In this kingdom by the sea,
A wind blew out of a cloud, chilling
My beautiful Annabel Lee;
So that her highborn kinsman came
And bore her away from me,
To shut her up in a sepulchre
In this kingdom by the sea.

The angels, not half so happy in heaven,
Went envying her and me-
Yes!- that was the reason (as all men know,
In this kingdom by the sea)
That the wind came out of the cloud by night,
Chilling and killing my Annabel Lee.

But our love it was stronger by far than the love
Of those who were older than we-
Of many far wiser than we-
And neither the angels in heaven above,
Nor the demons down under the sea,
Can ever dissever my soul from the soul
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee.

For the moon never beams without bringing me dreams
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;
And the stars never rise but I feel the bright eyes
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;
And so, all the night-tide, I lie down by the side
Of my darling- my darling- my life and my bride,
In the sepulchre there by the sea,
In her tomb by the sounding sea.

Edgar Allan Poe

I love how you can feel his hurt, his longing, his desire dripping from the words. Then by the second stanza the dread and sorrow creep in. As he talks of his love it's almost as if you can see her. I believe this is the mark of a great writer. If you feel or see what they are talking about just by the words then they have done their job and you are more likely to remember the writing. The writer will have left a mark even if they are long gone, like my dear friend Edgar here. Hats off to you Mr. Poe I hold you near and dear to me and find inspiration in your work,

My First Poem

The first poem I ever wrote I was eight years old and had a view of love that was skewed to the world that I was living in. Here is what I thought:

Love is no game 

It only brings pain.

Breaks every heart,

Is bitter and tart.

You'll only bend over

Backwards for it.