A week to share stories

Prose and Creative Writing

Hi guys. This week is creative writing week here at Poelitry. I’ve started writing a novel, and beginning this week, I will add a piece of it twice a week. The title is a working progress. That’s just how I roll :). I just wanted to remind you guys that your ideas are more than welcome. After all, the idea around this blog spot is to get a new theme every week where your ideas and creativity gets shared with all who read my blog. If you have any ideas, please leave a comment, or if you have something you’d like to add here, just email me. I’ll drop my email in the comments. So, here goes. Enjoy the journey…

Chapter One

Today marks the beginning of a very important period in Kaitlin’s’ life. She opens her drawer and pulls out her brush, whimpering as she strolls across to her mirror. “What now, Kate?” Isabelle asks, her brown eyes peeping up from above her latest fashion magazine. “I bumped my toe again.” Kaitlin replies embarrassed. “What’s new in the oh-so-interesting-world of fashion?” she adds sarcastically. Isabelle shoots one of her ‘don’t go there’ glares at her and continues flipping through her magazine. Kaitlin tries not to smile and continues brushing her hair. She has been waiting a long time for this, and her stomach starts to groan as soon as she looks up at herself in the mirror, her blue eyes dancing around through a wall of hair, caused by her fringe. ‘Great, Kate. He will probably shake your hand, endure a few minutes with you, and tell you to consider a career in hairdressing if you show up like this. Stupid hair.’ As if Isabelle can hear her thoughts, she jumps up and strolls across the large room over to Kate. “Hear, let me help you. Francis!” she calls her maid, who appears not a second later. Kate rolls her eyes and turns her attention to the reflection in the mirror. Francis is deep in focus, and is tugging away at her hair. ‘God, if only she knew what her hair styling felt like, she’d understand why I never ask for help.’ After what felt like an eternity, Francis swings her chair around and reveals a beautiful looking Kate in the mirror. She had to admit it; Francis knew what she was doing. “Here, wear this top with your black pencil skirt and a nice pair of Mary-Jane’s. He’ll be too preoccupied with the way you look to focus on your skills.” Isabelle smiles, and hands over a lace-detailed blouse to her. “A bit revealing, don’t you think?” Kate points out and gestures over to her bosom. But once again, Isabelle has that determined look on her face, and Kate knows better than to try and bargain with her now. After all, she is the expert on men.

Michael is sitting in the cafe, reading the Arts and Leisure segment from the newspaper. He’s lost in thought when an overwhelming aroma fills the air, knocking him back into reality. A petite brunette in a tiny waitress uniform passes him, and suddenly he feels the need to cough. ‘Damn, I hate this place.’ He opens up the menu and signals the waitress for more coffee, which she eagerly brings to him a few minutes later. ‘Bad perfume, great coffee.’ He shrugs. He sips the hot coffee slowly, savoring each and every drop. ‘Good things are to be enjoyed.’ He shudders as a long lost memory returns to him.

A few minutes later, he signals the waitress once more to remove his empty cup. ‘Damn it, females. She should have been here ten minutes ago.’ Right then his attention is caught by another brunette with broad smile, awkwardly walking over to his table. He can’t help but smile as she settles herself on the chair opposite him.

That’s it for today. Keep checking in for more news in the life of a freak with a blog.

peace out

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Through the eyes of a Sparrow.

Poetry

sparrow

On a warm summers afternoon
I sat there on my porch,
curiosity got the best of me and
I decided to go for a walk.
Along came a sparrow, then,
and flew down to my bench
where I felt the warmth of the summer breeze,
caressing an old, wrinkled face.
“Sparrow, please talk with me,
what’s it like out there?
When winter comes and you fly away,
are you somewhat scared?
For I am now on the end
of a journey
which I never truly lived.
But my mind is eager and I
have
to know,
Sparrow, would you fly again?”
To places where the sunbeams
dance
and fawn will run and play.
“Sparrow, could you share your journeys
with a blind old man today?”

Written by me.

Poelitry goes Poetry

Poetry

I’m Carly. No, no. Not iCarly, just Carly. Actually Carlie. But lets not get technical. After all, my language is ART. This will be my first of many posts, and I was up all night thinking of the right things to say…

What my whole idea is with this blog is to connect people through art and expression. Not the usual ‘I post a something, then you comment’ kind of way. More like I post something I’m passionate about, you say what you like and next week I feature YOUR ideas and everyone else who has something related to that. Like that? Awesome! Let’s begin with poetry then…

Mine’s called ‘The Matchstick’.

He lights up in fire
and burns for a while,
On days when the power fails
he lights up a smile.
He burns when he’s needed
and dies after use,
He waits patiently and silently
for the next persons’ fuse.
A tiny thing indeed
he’s not that important,
Yet when days are dark
He’ll be supportive.
If that’s my only goal
and this is all I do,
then I guess that ‘SO BE IT!’
I will, I WILL follow through.

Originally written by me.

How’s that for a first post? Are you in?