Monday, November 17 - Found Poem

 

Nothing is impossible,

Whether in skill, temperament or in beauty,

Achieving near miracles

When the time comes,

Nothing is impossible!

Oh, every day brings a new skill!

Surely, surely,

Nothing is impossible!

Flowers discussed next season’s colours,

With the help of spirits,

Anyone could come back to the dead.

Float in the air,

Fill a room with flowers,

Do as many tricks as a performing horse,

No one could rival you!

Do something important,

Have a part to play,

Without hesitation,

Aid the deranged and

Gaily be flattered by the dead.

Believe me in this great undertaking,

Hardly believe such a thing could never happen.

Surely, surely,

Nothing is impossible!

Friday, November 14 - The Berlin Wall

 

An Account In Which I Got Inspiration For My Story

 

             Clutching my sketchpad to my chest, I let the crowd of roaring Germans sweep me to the other side of the wall. I stumbled along as everyone quickly tried to push through to meet their relatives and friends. Although the thought of seeing my own family came to mind, the first thing I had to do was get out of the horde of people racing around me. As more people began to rush by, I couldn’t help but start to feel excited. The chaos almost gave off a refreshing feeling. I hurried onward, hoping to keep up with the people that buzzed and shook with anticipation. Although it felt like minutes, the people quickly began separating and breaking apart. I finally had time to stop and take a step back. I stood there, now in Berlin. I looked around and saw people joining together, hugging and laughing; a few were even crying. West Germany looked so much more different than the East. Not far off from the wall were markets where the Easterners stood out perfectly among the West Germans. No one cared, that didn’t matter right now. I watched as other Easterners picked up many different foods, some that I’ve never seen before, and look at them in wonder. I think that was the easiest way you could tell the people apart. The West Germans were better dressed, but the Easterners had a different look on their faces.

                This picture is one that I never want to forget. This much joy and celebration only comes by so often, I had to get a picture of it. I bustled my way over to an emptier spot a little farther down the street and took out the few supplies that I had on me. Opening my book, I scrawled hurriedly on the page, hoping to capture this moment as if it were to disappear if I took my eyes off of it for more than a second. My eyes darted from page to street while I let my hand do the work and record what I saw. I took note of the shop names, strange foods, street signs, but most importantly, the people. Satisfied with what I had, I packed my supplies away back into my gray coat. My family was probably making their way to the groups of people by now, scanning around in hopes of finding me. I’ll show up a little late, but I know they’ll understand. They know that I always take my time to capture what is around me on my sketchpad.

Thursday, November 13 - The Macabre Arts

 

 

When I look at this picture, I can’t help but recoil out of shock and disgust. However, I am not disgusted by the starved state of these poor unfortunate souls, not at all. Although it is not the most pleasurable sight, these people are only human. I cannot even dare myself to be nauseated by these people, even if the state they are in is surprising at the very least. I am disgusted because I know that something is wrong, that they, these people, have been wronged. The sickly pale and sallow bodies are stacked together, no stacked isn’t the right word here – they are grouped. They have been separated and terrorized, beaten, starved and depraved of their humanity. With faces slathered with terror and their hollow expressions painted with the most authentic fright one could ever come across, these people’s lank and gnarled bones are not the source of my own fear. I do not repel from them because they are horrific. I repel from them because what happened to them is horrific. I am terrified and sickened knowing that wild beasts, disguising themselves and referring to themselves as one of our own has had the audacity to attack such innocent people as these. I am disgusted because they have the nerve to call themselves humans when they have poisoned and soiled the lives of our own. I’m angry. I’m angry because they, those wild ignorant animals, think that they had the right to do this. They thought that they could steal the humanity and spirits of these people and claim them as their own. How could I be afraid of people that have been attacked by animals? Even with their tethered skin and twisted joints, I cannot fear them. I can only fear for them.

Wednesday, November 12 - The Haunted House

 

 

              The Party House, a long abandoned and shabby home left to rot, was once a very wild and popular place where the rich owner threw parties and banquets from dusk until dawn. People would show up and have grand balls and exciting soirees as they danced, sang, and laughed without a care in the world. The house was always the liveliest on the block and music and light always seemed to radiate from the windows. If you ever visited this place during its glory, then you could never forget just how much fun and creative the parties were. Although, despite the fact that everyone always seemed to have such a wonderful time here, people complained that some of the parties would get too out of hand. Things were broken, windows would get shattered, and there were a few minor injuries. No one really though much of it, a few cuts and bruises would heal over time, so why stop the fun over something so small? Well, one injury at that house wasn’t as minor as a scrape or bump, and it definitely couldn’t be fixed with a sling or Band-Aid.

                On a lively Saturday night, close to midnight when a particularly rowdy party was at its peak of excitement, something terrible had gone on in one of the upstairs hallways. A number of people were kept in a smaller room and were shot to death while the party continued on. With the party so wild and loud, no one was able to hear the gunshots. The next morning after the people had left and the house was being cleaned up after another night of rich merriment, the owner of the place had stumbled upon the room in which the partygoers were killed. In a wild panic, he called out for one of the hired help to call the police.

                The police came and investigated the scene, as well as put identities to the bodies. Almost all of them were rich competitors of the owner’s company. The cops were suspicious of the home owner until they found his wife lying among the dead, brutally stabbed in the chest, most likely by one of the people kept captive. The dead woman was convicted of killing her husband’s competitors, which were confirmed to have been invited to that night’s party to celebrate everyone’s success in their individual companies, hoping to get rid of their competition so that her and her husband’s business could prosper even more. After this news was released to the public, not many people wanted to go back to the place to party anymore. With the music and crowd so loud and loose, anyone was free to sneak in and do the same thing again. Some people even suspected the owner himself as the one to kill his rivals and wife. Only a few parties were held after that incident, each one with a smaller crowd. The rich man eventually went crazy from grief and hung himself. With no family for the house to be left to, it was put up for sale. A few people had bought or rented the place for a while, but anyone who lived there claimed to have been chased out due to strange paranormal activity. Sounds of footsteps were heard upstairs. Wailing, crying, screaming, and psychotic laughter were also reported in the house as well as the sound of gunshots, only able to be heard at around midnight on Saturday nights. Shadows darted through the hallways and things were knocked over and moved by themselves.

                The house was so sinister that no one bought or rented it. Years passed and still no one wanted the place. It sat there by itself with no one to take care of it. The once lively and joyous presence that the room gave off was now replaced with loneliness and sorrow. The Party House laid on that property forgotten until this very day.

Friday, November 7 - Ewww... That's Creepy

 

 

On a weary day of darkness is where this story will begin,

Up on an aging hill sat a rickety old house,

An old house that a young girl has ventured in.

Tales of the dead, dismembered, and wrong-done are what captured her mind,

Inside the beaten house whose interior’s din,

Caused the girl’s curiosity to better her wits.

Climbing inside with a lantern in hand,

She searched the house to find what’s been told to be hidden on its land.

Through the dusty corridors,

Marching across the maggot filled floorboards,

The girl traveled from room to room,

In search of what would find her soon.

Screeches, wails, and whispers floated through the halls,

Waving her hand, she dismissed the sounds,

She couldn’t go back, she simply had to see it all.

Aimlessly she continued to crawl, wonder, and explore,

Yet as time passed, she wasn’t quite sure

What she was doing in the desolate house anymore.

The time clicked as her subconscious threw itself into a fit.

Like broken clock her mind’s gears grinded and popped,

She couldn’t even remember what she had initially sought.

Frightened, confused, yet with an unknown determination,

The girl continued to look and look,

For who knows what?

Continuing her journey through the twisted floors,

She continued to search from room to room,

And to door to door.

Finally stumbling upon what begged to be found,

The girl gasped and stopped, her gaze now drifting down,

Down resting on the floorboards, covered in muck, filth and dust,

Was where two skeletons and a shattered faded lantern laid to rest.

Brother and Sister, by each other’s side forever more,

The two lay abandoned in the house in search for each other’s spirit,

Wandering the maze of hallways in search of each other,

From now until the end of time.

She turned and ran looking for the exit of the house,

But in a quick flash there she was,

Outside and looking up to the tall structure’s door,

The young girl, with her lantern in hand,

Walked inside the abandoned home,

In search of what?

She didn’t know.

Monday, October 27 - Fairy Tale Name Poem

 

 

P             Peculiar and

U             Unruly,

S              Sly as well as

S              Strong,

 

I               Imaginative with a

N             Nice clever thought always in mind.

 

B             Boots, a favored shoe.

O             Ogre Wrecking and

O             Opinionated,

T              Talkative yet still

S              Stealthy as night.

Friday, October 24 - X Marks The Spot

 

 

                You had sailed at sea for about a week now. A young pirate known as Pip was your only company, other than the rats that inhabited your sleeping quarters under the deck. Captain Foxy Hookman had orchestrated this entire mission. “What mission?” you might have wondered in the past few days. Well, after stealing another crew’s ship, you and your mates stumbled upon a treasure map. According to the scribbled handwriting on the old map, the treasure was probably some form of gold or riches. Of course, anyone would be interested in something like that. So obviously you guys had to go find this, I mean there’s a butt ton of money involved.

                After your week of sailing the high seas, you had reached the island that the treasure was supposed to be buried on. Your whole crew, basically just you, Pip, and the Captain, trekked through the dark forest for two days, attacking anything that tried to attack you. For those two nights, you guys had set up shelter and told stories and laughed around a campfire. It was sort of like camp, but like more life threatening and surrounded by things that wanted to kill you the second you took your eyes off of them.

                Anyway, in the afternoon of the third day, you guys found a giant black ‘X’ painted onto the ground on the other side of the island. Right on the shore. Backed up to the ocean. Literally, all you had to do was follow the shore to the other side, no one has time for the silly forest bullcrap nonsense. But, since you and your crew were completely and utterly ridiculous, I guess that seemed like a good idea to you bunch.

                After Captain Hookman had made you and Pip dig up the treasure under the giant obvious ‘X’, the only thing you pulled out was a note in a bottle. Your Captain opened it up and read the note. You and Pip gathered behind him and heard him read it out loud. “Dear whoever may find this,” your Captain read with a heavy Irish and Pirate accent, “If you and your friends have found this, then you have worked together hopefully through honest, loyal, humorous, hilarious, unique and magical ways. The real treasure here is the power of friendship. Signed, Twilight Sparkley Horse.” Well forget that! You guys broke the bottle, ripped the note, and went home.