A Bus Seat Named Forever Chapter 2: From Clara by gadsdy, literature
Literature
A Bus Seat Named Forever Chapter 2: From Clara
He chose me. Or, rather, he chose to sit next to me. The bus was far from being full, but each seat held at least one passenger. I guess of all the choices he had, the seat next to me was the most desirable. Perhaps I was being complemented. As I lazily gazed out the window, something caught my eye from below. A fuzzy little thing with yellow and black alternating bands lay limp in the windowsill. It was a bee! I recoiled away from the window and scooted as far from it as I could. My seat mate stared at me without blinking. Was he trying to start a staring contest or criticize me for my fear of stinging bugs. Sure the bee looked dead but I co
I love the mail
I love the way it looks
and the way it smells
I love the fact that for the mail
a person took time
to put something on paper
and put it in an envelope
and address it to me
They bought a stamp
and drove to the post office
or at least walked to their mailbox
I check the mail
every single day
packages, letters, postcards
It's glorious
On June 1st I didn't get any mail
no letters
no packages
No postcards
not even a circular ad
weird, but it happens
not often though
I have penpals
I have amazon prime
I have multiple magazine subscriptions
I get mail
June 2nd
no mail
that's not normal
but there's a first time for everything
On my deathbed a young girl, my great granddaughter, asked me why I never married. She looked around the hospice room at her mother, her grandmother, her aunts, and me as she wondered why she had no great grandfather. In reply I told her "Baby girl, I've only ever loved two men in my life and I lost both of them. One of them loved me with a passion so strong it burned me up inside. The other one, well, I loved him even more than that."
In America, the roaring twenties left a lot to be desired for a twenty-two year old me. Specifically, it left me desiring marriage. It was the kind of marriage shunned by "civilized" society, but what could I
Close, Close, unbearable close
Breathing turns heavy
Stench burns my nose
Quick, Quick, incredibly quick
The chase is beginning
With air quite thick
Black, Blue, the night and the sea
Can't be a murder
Without a body
Slow........Slow..........think it through
Not of what was done
But what they will do
Left...... Right.......follow the path
Even at night
Heavy steps bend grass
Red.....Blue....... blood to bruise
Don't jump to conclusions
Just follow the clues
Snap, Crunch, of sticks and dried leaves
Had to be done
Was him or me
Jump, Duck, a log and a branch
Freedom in reach
With
Little boys should never hit little girls
My mother always said
So I sat still not lifting a finger
As my sister threw a ball at my head
I kept my cool no matter what
But I slowly began to dread
The click click sound of her play high heels
Because I knew where she was headed
She could hit me but I couldn't fight back
Does that seem cruel to anyone else
Thankfully three words offered me salvation
STOP HITTING YOURSELF!
I keep it all in the library
Of my mind
And sometimes grab a title
As they float by
"The Day We Met"
Is an interesting tale
That started off awkward
But ended quite well
"The Days of Our Lives"
Is a mismash of genres
Combining action with adventure
Strong romance and some horror
"The Happiest Moment"
A cliffhanger of sorts
Or volume upon volume
Of awe inspiring works
"The End of Us"
Unwritten and unwanted
Not yet published
As the writer's block hits
"Me and You"
The anthology of us
My deepest wish for the portrayal
Is that the live-action was just
"Scary stories are for babies" I say
as we pass the old mansion on Main Street
I chatter out loud to keep the fear at bay
"That house isn't haunted, It's just empty"
"It's haunted alright" he says to me
"By the the ghost of old lady Hathaway
She just kept talk, talk, talking
Till her husband stopped her one fine day"
"How did he stop her?" I ask as I pray
That the answer is gentle and sweet
Like bringing her a breakfast tray
Or massaging her aching feet
"She was just like you." He adds creepily
"In a red dress she would twirl and sway.
It took only three knives you see.
To end her life in the cruelest way"
"Mom...." I whisper,
There once was a man from Nantucket
Now, don't think that you know what I'll say
He was there for a reason
With a plan and a mission
To be delivered in a most unusual way
He stood on his head and tipped on his toes
Causing people to stop and to stare
Then spoke of philosophy
Mixed with astronomy
Even when it seemed no one cared
The townsfolk called him a crazy old man
Who rambled with voices in his head
They said they'd ignore him
And simply walk by
Yet... No one ever forgot what he said
"Scary stories are for babies" I say
as we pass the old mansion on Main Street
I chatter out loud to keep the fear at bay
"That house isn't haunted, It's just empty"
"It's haunted alright" he says to me
"By the the ghost of old lady Hathaway
She just kept talk, talk, talking
Till her husband stopped her one fine day"
"How did he stop her?" I ask as I pray
That the answer is gentle and sweet
Like bringing her a breakfast tray
And giving a massage for her aching feet
"She was just like you." He adds creepily
"In a red dress she would twirl and sway.
It took only three knives you see.
To end her life in the cruelest way"
"Mom...." I whisper
It fell to the ground before I could grasp it
Or comprehend at all what really had happened
With a thump, and a splash, and the blurring of ink
Landed the notebook that holds all of what I think
My mind was so frazzled and tangled together
That I paid no more heed to the unrelenting weather
But I drew strength from Dorothy who in the hurricane's throws
Could still click her heels together and find her way home
What couldn't I do if I had the inclination to try?
I might just sprout wings and build a palace in the sky!
Unlike the politicians who work in Washington DC
I'm not hindered by red tape and outdated policy
To a young girl in her yel
A Bus Seat Named Forever Chapter 2: From Clara by gadsdy, literature
Literature
A Bus Seat Named Forever Chapter 2: From Clara
He chose me. Or, rather, he chose to sit next to me. The bus was far from being full, but each seat held at least one passenger. I guess of all the choices he had, the seat next to me was the most desirable. Perhaps I was being complemented. As I lazily gazed out the window, something caught my eye from below. A fuzzy little thing with yellow and black alternating bands lay limp in the windowsill. It was a bee! I recoiled away from the window and scooted as far from it as I could. My seat mate stared at me without blinking. Was he trying to start a staring contest or criticize me for my fear of stinging bugs. Sure the bee looked dead but I co
I love the mail
I love the way it looks
and the way it smells
I love the fact that for the mail
a person took time
to put something on paper
and put it in an envelope
and address it to me
They bought a stamp
and drove to the post office
or at least walked to their mailbox
I check the mail
every single day
packages, letters, postcards
It's glorious
On June 1st I didn't get any mail
no letters
no packages
No postcards
not even a circular ad
weird, but it happens
not often though
I have penpals
I have amazon prime
I have multiple magazine subscriptions
I get mail
June 2nd
no mail
that's not normal
but there's a first time for everything
On my deathbed a young girl, my great granddaughter, asked me why I never married. She looked around the hospice room at her mother, her grandmother, her aunts, and me as she wondered why she had no great grandfather. In reply I told her "Baby girl, I've only ever loved two men in my life and I lost both of them. One of them loved me with a passion so strong it burned me up inside. The other one, well, I loved him even more than that."
In America, the roaring twenties left a lot to be desired for a twenty-two year old me. Specifically, it left me desiring marriage. It was the kind of marriage shunned by "civilized" society, but what could I
Close, Close, unbearable close
Breathing turns heavy
Stench burns my nose
Quick, Quick, incredibly quick
The chase is beginning
With air quite thick
Black, Blue, the night and the sea
Can't be a murder
Without a body
Slow........Slow..........think it through
Not of what was done
But what they will do
Left...... Right.......follow the path
Even at night
Heavy steps bend grass
Red.....Blue....... blood to bruise
Don't jump to conclusions
Just follow the clues
Snap, Crunch, of sticks and dried leaves
Had to be done
Was him or me
Jump, Duck, a log and a branch
Freedom in reach
With
Little boys should never hit little girls
My mother always said
So I sat still not lifting a finger
As my sister threw a ball at my head
I kept my cool no matter what
But I slowly began to dread
The click click sound of her play high heels
Because I knew where she was headed
She could hit me but I couldn't fight back
Does that seem cruel to anyone else
Thankfully three words offered me salvation
STOP HITTING YOURSELF!
I keep it all in the library
Of my mind
And sometimes grab a title
As they float by
"The Day We Met"
Is an interesting tale
That started off awkward
But ended quite well
"The Days of Our Lives"
Is a mismash of genres
Combining action with adventure
Strong romance and some horror
"The Happiest Moment"
A cliffhanger of sorts
Or volume upon volume
Of awe inspiring works
"The End of Us"
Unwritten and unwanted
Not yet published
As the writer's block hits
"Me and You"
The anthology of us
My deepest wish for the portrayal
Is that the live-action was just
"Scary stories are for babies" I say
as we pass the old mansion on Main Street
I chatter out loud to keep the fear at bay
"That house isn't haunted, It's just empty"
"It's haunted alright" he says to me
"By the the ghost of old lady Hathaway
She just kept talk, talk, talking
Till her husband stopped her one fine day"
"How did he stop her?" I ask as I pray
That the answer is gentle and sweet
Like bringing her a breakfast tray
Or massaging her aching feet
"She was just like you." He adds creepily
"In a red dress she would twirl and sway.
It took only three knives you see.
To end her life in the cruelest way"
"Mom...." I whisper,
There once was a man from Nantucket
Now, don't think that you know what I'll say
He was there for a reason
With a plan and a mission
To be delivered in a most unusual way
He stood on his head and tipped on his toes
Causing people to stop and to stare
Then spoke of philosophy
Mixed with astronomy
Even when it seemed no one cared
The townsfolk called him a crazy old man
Who rambled with voices in his head
They said they'd ignore him
And simply walk by
Yet... No one ever forgot what he said
"Scary stories are for babies" I say
as we pass the old mansion on Main Street
I chatter out loud to keep the fear at bay
"That house isn't haunted, It's just empty"
"It's haunted alright" he says to me
"By the the ghost of old lady Hathaway
She just kept talk, talk, talking
Till her husband stopped her one fine day"
"How did he stop her?" I ask as I pray
That the answer is gentle and sweet
Like bringing her a breakfast tray
And giving a massage for her aching feet
"She was just like you." He adds creepily
"In a red dress she would twirl and sway.
It took only three knives you see.
To end her life in the cruelest way"
"Mom...." I whisper
It fell to the ground before I could grasp it
Or comprehend at all what really had happened
With a thump, and a splash, and the blurring of ink
Landed the notebook that holds all of what I think
My mind was so frazzled and tangled together
That I paid no more heed to the unrelenting weather
But I drew strength from Dorothy who in the hurricane's throws
Could still click her heels together and find her way home
What couldn't I do if I had the inclination to try?
I might just sprout wings and build a palace in the sky!
Unlike the politicians who work in Washington DC
I'm not hindered by red tape and outdated policy
To a young girl in her yel
Writing Tournament V: Winners by Writers--club, journal
Writing Tournament V: Winners
Hello writers!
Thank you for your patience as the judges deliberated on the winners of the Fifth Annual Writing Tournament! This year's prompts for genres rather than specific themes were a little out of the ordinary, but we wanted to test our writers and see how they handled material outside their comfort zones. We did not, however, anticipate being tested ourselves! Judging these rounds and arguing over the merits of what we each consider enjoyable reading material has been a profound lesson, particularly with the last round of comedy entries. Ultimately, we decided on the entries that made us remember, think, and laugh the most.
We thank
2 cents Mystery: Who dun it? by Domaex, literature
Literature
2 cents Mystery: Who dun it?
After months of a grueling, agonizing, mind-numbing search, he had solved the case.
It was indeed his cat who was stealing his steak sandwiches from the fridge; he'd have to apologize to his wife.
A hidden
Match
Lays still
In a
Prison
Of steel and jewels
They say that
Opening the box
Will lead to
Disaster
Death
But a box made of
Jewels
Surely would hold
Riches
Golds
Silvers
Whatever that may come
In such a tiny box
Who knows
What would happen
If the match
Inside
Is struck
What Do You Want? by HeadmistressMercedes, literature
Literature
What Do You Want?
On my walk to the city one evening,
I spied, wedged in the fork of an oak, a box.
So I took the box, thanked the tree,
and opened it to see what I could see.
Careful, it's cold.
Time to unravel what Heaven wants,
and it always wants.
A moonstone.
Multi-faceted monster tucked away in my jewel case.
But the moon is not out today. How odd.
A map.
Like celestial bugs pinned to their board,
Names are scattered here, there and everywhere.
But in this maze of monikers, I am not present.
I would so like to fit in.
A white X.
Like a cloth soaking a stain, it is bleeding.
I don't understand. I don't know these people.
Who wants me to think I have
Writing Tournament V Round I + Sign Ups! by Writers--club, journal
Writing Tournament V Round I + Sign Ups!
Come one and come all, raise your pen take part in this grand literary battle! You could win a quill, dA core memberships, points, art, features, and more to be won! We have extended our deadline to give you all a little more time to enter the first round.
The time is nigh for the Fifth Annual Writers--club (https://www.deviantart.com/writers--club) Literature Tournament!
This is a tournament for all writers welcoming prose and poetry! It will be a grand competition spanning three rounds of literary challenge! First of all, you must be willing to write for each of the rounds over the coming months.
There will be judging at the end of each round and those who progress to the n
Group-wide 100 Themes Challenge! by AllPoetryIsGolden, journal
Group-wide 100 Themes Challenge!
Hello to all!
How's everyone's summers been?
I decided to kick off the school year (for those of you who have started or are starting up soon) or just the general fall if you will, with a well, not so little challenge. =P
(Don't worry, a contest will be coming soon!)
For those of you who don't know, the 100 Themes Challenge is a list of themes, and every day you write a poem (well at least for this group) or draw, sculpt, etc. some piece to go along with the theme, and you do it for 100 days straight!
How to get started:
Go down the list and write a poem for each topic. Simple!
Example: Today's topic is introduction!
Submit it to our 100 t
Hello everyone,
Our group was recently hacked and some very hateful, politically incorrect messages were put up. We are trying to get things back in order as quickly as possible as we apologize for anyone who saw the unpleasant things that were posted here temporarily.
Our gallery was destroyed. We are trying to bring our settings back to normal and we have contacted DeviantArt to see if there is anyway that we can have them restored.
Twinkle twinkle falling star
Oh, I wonder if you are
He who called with steady voice
Offering me one simple choice
Shall I stay or better leave?
Contemplatively I breathe
Now to bed I close my eyes
Think of you across the skies
I forgive you, now you know
My chosen path is that I go
One breath. Two breath. Three breath. Four
Eternal sleep, forevermore
Twinkle twinkle trusted friend
Take me there, to where it ends
Shining down your soft, white light
It calms me now and dulls my fright
Down below in bed I lie
With comforted heart I say goodbye