I've run from almost
Everything
From dawn to dusk
I dare not sing
I know life will
Catch up to me
I've kept my secrets
Told my lies
Try to aviod
Last goodbyes
I try too hard
To stop the pain
But I always find myself
Crying in the rain
There's not enough time
For the stars in the sky
Or minutes in a day
Or enough time to cry
But nothing will stop me
Not even death
I'll keep on running
Past my final breath
o.o.c: I'm posting this first chapter to see if I get a good response. If you want more, comment.
"Good morning Daniel," a digital-sounding voice said.
"Good morning Eden." Daniel yawned.
"What can I do for you, sir?"
"Send Jars in, will you?"
"Right away, sir."
"Thank you."
Daniel Norris was eighteen years old. Both his parents had died leaving him an orphan. His parents' will left him the family fortune including the family mansion. The mansion was run by two of Daniel's inventions; Eden and Jars.
Chapter four
“You don't have peperoni?!” I ask in surprise, my mouth hanging open.
It's a cold, unforgiving world.
Don't doubt it, it's true,
'Cuz as soon as you take off the covers,
Your fingers will turn numb, your toes, blue.
It's a cold unforgiving world.
You can't even go to the loo,
Whenever you stand up you feel it,
The cold is getting to you.
It's a cold unforgiving world.
Out of the covers, the temperature feels negative two,
You can't take it, but you can fake it,
I know you feel it too.
It's a cold, unforgiving world.
X
In midspring of that year, when the plum trees were fully swollen, a knock was sounded throughout the Linmoor house. It sounded like a man’s: they would have been surprised to see what bony knuckles made it.
“Paul,” called Mrs. Linmoor, her hands full of bread dough, “Can you get the door?”
“I can’t, I’m only passing through - I’ve got a sick lamb outside. Fidelity, you?”
“I can’t, I’m hanging up flowers. Skenan?”
“Yes,” said Skenan, taking her hands out of the hot dish water and rubbing the suds off on her apron. She went to the front.
I know this needs serious editing, but please bear with me.
***
She knew it was true.
She knew because she had seen it herself. It lay there, in full view, half slipping of the kitchen bench. The screaming headlines stood out in bold print. “Mother disappeared into thin air,” they read. Her daddy looked up, his eyes filled with sorrow and fresh tears started anew, streaking down his well-worn face.
“She’s gone,” he said, “Gone for good.”
***
Comments seriously make my day!
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Progression
To think, To wonder, To dream
My thoughts are jumbled
I wonder about the world
My dreams are bound to crumble
I think abstractly
I wonder about all
I dream too vividly
To feel, To love, To touch
Feeling with the nerves inside me
Loving things that I’ve never known
Trying to touch everything I see
I feel deeply
I love all I see
I touch too quickly
To travel, To explore, To see
This was sort of born through out a long family day that made me realize I should really carry paper and a pen so unfinished poems can't haunt my thoughts. I'd really appreciate any comments!
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Dragon
A dragon, black
Stalks my life
Lurks behind my path
Green leering eyes
Peer through trees
Watching my every move
Dark shiny scales
Glisten in light
Draw my curious eye
Crunching dry leaves
With eerie sound
Beneath long hard nails
This heart,
burried in the soil, wet
with tears of ages, wept
for grief
and guilt, laden
now upon hearts who
strive
to descend in
hope,
just as this hallowed body,
buried
beside their very
love
that drove them on.
This is hope.This place.
This broken place.
This garden.
This place so full of
ugliness.
Ugliness that
now
cannot compare to the
beauty,
which now
consumes,
for its
touch. Its Sacred
Fidelity, noun:
1. Faithfulness to obligations, duties, or observances.
2. Exact correspondence with fact or with a given quality, condition, or event; accuracy.
Faith, noun:
“…the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen.” Hebrews 11:1
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There it was: the feeling. A gnawing in the cavern of her stomach…a sensation as familiar to her as a mother’s breast is to a child.