I wake up
And look out the window. The beautiful snow glistens and sparkles. I am six years old, and unafraid. I wake up And look out the window. The annoying snow is speckled and in the way. I'm sixteen years old, and ignored. I wake up And look out the window. The dirty snow is messy and a pile of slush. I'm thirty-six years old, and overworked. I wake up And look out the window. The lively snow glistens and sparkles. I'm sixty-six years old, and unafraid.
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When hope
Has faltered; When the last Straw is gone; When the world is dark, Deep clouds That cover The Sun; When the towel's Thrown; When loneliness Has grown; When it seems there's nowhere, Nowhere to go; When the answer to all Seems to be 'no'; Just Listen to the wind chime, Remember Life's a mountain to climb, Look at All that's in its prime, And try, Try One More Time. Even though I mention "sister", this can be about anyone you love: parents, grandparents, siblings, friends, cousins, partners, uncles, aunts, pets, teachers, whatever. And no, I wasn't having these overly-dramatic feelings about my little sister one day... I was just bored and this popped in my head (although I do love her to death) :) This is really just a general, cute little poem that's a bit on the cheesy side. :p There for me
Always. To cheer me up when I am down, To make me feel I'm wearing a crown. Special In Those Eyes; I mean something. Loved In Those Eyes; I AM something. To keep me Going, Going through Life. I can never Give Up. Thanks, my best friend. My Sister. Personally I find this slightly cheesy, but that's ok. Also, this was supposed to be a song as well, but again I got lazy and just tweaked it to be a poem. :) Appreciate
The things That are Loved. For those things Can be taken Gone In an instant. In a snap of fingers, A puff of breath, A tick of a clock, A skip of a rock. Keep the seconds Of the life that we live Counted. Because everything we know, Everything we have, Everything we love, Can go. Take care of the things That can be gone. They can leave In a snap of fingers, A puff of breath, In a tick of a clock, The skip of a rock. If we appreciate Anything at all If we appreciate Things big and small If we count the seconds Of The Life We live All the time, We'll know That Everything we love Can Go. Here's the first short story of mine to be posted on this blog! I actually wrote it for a project for school, but thought I'd share it since it's definitely one of the best short stories I've written in awhile. Also... Shout-out to my bestie Sarah Todd for giving me the idea for this story!!:) My house took four long, hard months to build.
My daddy and my big brother Robert nailed pieces of wood together, hiking the five miles to town to buy more when they ran out of materials. Every day when I went to see it it was bigger and bigger, until finally it was as big as it would be. When they finished I helped my mom paint and furnish the inside. Finally, it was completely done, and that made me very, very happy. I had watched that house grow for four months, and now it was finished. My family moved in, and every time I looked at that house I couldn't help but feel that it was mine. Every night my mom made dinner in the little kitchen, and every night my family came together to eat it. That kitchen in that house, my house, was a place of togetherness for my family and I. Every night I cuddled up in my thick quilt on the bed in my small, cozy room. I could see my window from there, and every night I fell asleep looking at the stars. That room in that house, my house, was a place of wonder. One day I came home from a long, hard day of school with only hours of homework on my mind. As I came closer to the house, I saw smoke. Thick, gray clouds of smoke. I dropped my books and started running. As I approached my house, I saw huge red and orange flames. I didn't know what to do. My brother was still at school, my dad was working and my mom was shopping in town, so nobody was home. Nobody was there to help me. Nobody was there to save my house. I ran the well dry pouring water on it but it was no use. I sat down, tears running down my face as I watched my house shrink closer and closer to the ground. Finally, all that was left was a pile of black ashes. Devastated, I ran. I ran far, far away. I ran past the river, past the trees, deep into the woods. Finally, I collapsed at a rock and, exhausted both mentally and physically, fell asleep on it. When I awoke, my mom was shaking me. It was dark out. I got up, at first confused. But then I remembered. "The house..." I croaked, but my mom shushed me and assured me that we would find another place to live. And we did. But it just wasn't the same. Years later, lost in my thoughts, I made a wrong turn upon coming home from work. I knew I should have turned around, but something told me to keep going. So I drove. And drove. And drove. Finally, I stopped, seeing a row of identically built houses. One, though, stuck out to me. On the outside, it looked exactly the same as the others. However, I knew that it stood in the exact place that the house my father and brother spent four months building once did. The house of my childhood. My house. |
AboutHi, I'm Jen Starzec, and I'm 19 years old. I write a lot about disability and chronic illness, especially related to my main disorder, Transverse Myelitis. I also have a lot of poetry and some short stories. Enjoy! Categories
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