MMMMMkay, so here is a little story I had to write for Sophmore English Lit... The assignment was to write a murder story/essay/my
Required Info/Character
Jack Holstein-farme
John Thomas- Technician
Swiss Alps
a Tricycle (murder weapon)
Wardrobe was outdated (stupid motive)
Ebony
by Ana Maria V.
The sun was lazily spreading its slender fingers of light over the tips of the Swiss Alps. My doctor... no... my "therapist" thought the fresh air would do me some good, as in my line of work, one doesn't get out much. I was always a good skier, though most any other outdoor activity seemed beyond me. The lifts had barely started when I hopped on and was taken to the top of the mountain. Relatively speaking, it wasn't a very steep slops, and being the beginning of the season, there weren't too many tracks and the snow was still a soft powder. I don't know, I think I like the rush, the cold, the blinding whiteness... It was exhilarating, and I felt free from everything except my skis, my picks, and my lift ticket. That is... until I got to the bottom. Then, the worries of the world caught up with me. I'm on Sabbatical. The expenses! Dark memories. The economy failing. The Eclipses. The Accident. Everything I didn't want to remember came back. Do I sound crazy to you? Well, I was. I really, really was. It was something I couldn't escape.
Something had power over me. I took the pills they gave me, their "happy pills", but they didn't work. They just made me slow. Slow to think. Slow to speak. Slow to everything. But they kept coming... the memories kept coming. Except, as I'd found, in a few situations...
I used to paint a lot when I was young... After the... Accident... I put them away. Brushes, paints, canvas; all went into a little wooden box and the box went to the back of my closet.
Ode to Chemistry Class
or
The Lament of the Chem Student
Thinking here, sitting in Chem
Wondering what's wrong with them.
Sadly, this class is oh so boring
That even I can find myself snoring.
Everything moves by so terribly slowly
Made clear to even the dumb and the lowly
Endless, repeating words fall with a patter
While chemicals spill and make quite a splatter.
Eyelids droop and my head falls on desk.
Fluorescent lights start to turn opalesque.
Yes, they have said this class would be trying
Harder, I say, is to watch some paint drying.
Again and again, the same numbers found
Waiting for reaction: the class makes no sound.
Maybe one day, it'll form excitement.
Flaming soap bubbles for pyros' delightment.
Happy, sleepy children never miss a chance
To make sure they fall into a narcoleptic trance.
Now I'm tired too; I'm going to sleep.
I know I won't miss one important peep.
So, boys and girls, you have now heard my rant.
Maybe... someday... Stupidity will recant.
~Ana Maria
Chem... 5th hour.
If you can't tell, I have this thing with rhyming. I've got a few poems that focus on alliteration, a good deal of freeverse, and a few haikus, but I don't think I'm going to copy them all... maybe one day...
*Symbolism behind the Last Judgement... copied again*
Ah yes.... I figured I might as well put in a little of the symbolism in it... just in case you're too stupid to see it/think of it otherwise...
The bells anounce religion, sadness, and death.
the doves symbolize grief and purity lost.
End of journey (if you didn't figure out that this is death, then you need some help)....
No-body is immune to death, regardless of what we had in life...
the arrow is time, it moves quickly and can't be stopped...
the archer... well...
time, fate, call it what you will...
the blood of death grows and covers us all, as a field is covered with poppies.
The reaper doth his scythe to swing,<--Grim Reaper, genius!
Darkest of night to bring<-- death...
Weary trav'ler, finally sleeping <-- Eventually, you get your rest in the valley of the dead
In the blackness, now falling <-- death descending over the eyes of a person
Guardians cry, Halo and Wing <-- Angels grieve for the loss of the damned
From the path, the spirit's strag'ling <-- sinners
Heart for soul is a-hag'ling <-- A last, desperate appeal for salvation
In the deep, the bones are rat'ling <-- time has finally ended and the dead awaken
Angels verses Demon bat'ling <-- The final battle
Army of the dead is rising!<-- guess... it's not that hard.
The Gone shall come again.
The Last Judgement.
The dark bells ding.
The mourning doves sing.
The end of the journey, this thing.
Spares neither peasant nor king.
Brought about by an arrow's twing
As the archer plays upon his lethal string.
Red flowers that bloom and sting.
The reaper doth his scythe to swing,
Darkest of night to bring.
Weary trav'ler, finally sleeping.
In the blackness, now falling,
Guardians cry, Halo and Wing.
From the path, the spirit's strag'ling,
Heart for soul is a-hag'ling.
In the deep, the bones are rat'ling.
Angels verses Demon bat'ling.
Army of the dead is rising!
The Gone shall come again.
The Knight Gone Astray
Let me tell you a tale
Of a stalwart old knave
Who one day set sail
For a maiden to save.
Yes, through wind and gail
‘Til, lo! There's a cave!
With his jacket of mail
And his heart, oh so brave…
He followed the trail
That the gnomes do pave.
To a place that glowed, pale.
Which men's hearts do crave.
With buckets of ale
That cause them to rave.
The land under the dale
Sweet kiss of death she gave…
*Two older poems... I thought I'd copy them from ET to EP... so I did!*
Hi everyone... If you scroll down, I doubt there will be much that strikes your interest.... Meh, I will add the questionare when I have the time and inspiration... Until then... well...
Anyways... I'm sitting/ was sitting in Precalculus, as it is the slowest most boring, simple, mathematics class I've ever taken, and I wrote a crappy little poem. Because it's lunchtime and I don't have much else to do, I think I'll copy it here....
*stemmed from English class, jsyk*
AND I DON'T TALK LIKE THIS! Exc. perhaps when I feel like being silly...
An MC's Ode to Snow White... or otherwise, Untitled.
Yo dere, Snow, ya got no flow.
Yer men were tiny; bend down low.
Kicked ya to the curb, said you gotta go.
Needles took yer pain, made ya feel so-so.
Bit the shining apple, given by a Crow.
Moron! Loco! Can't ya see it glow?
Hell with dignity! You turned "Hey Hoe."
His eyes were sparkling, you said "Hello."
Ya saw he was no average Joe.
He saw you were easy, ya mumbled real slow.
Had his fun then letcha go.
Gotta maintain the status quo.
Ya snapped like a string from a mighty tight bow.
You were now yer greatest foe.
Tried to hide it: drown your woe.
Couldn't stop screaming, clawing walls. No.
"This," you said "Was the final blow."
Silver Blade's your friend, you know?
Your last chance, you knew you wouldn't blow.
Now yer buried down the fifth row.
Labeled you, just another Jane Roe.
Sounds kinda like a story from Poe.
Yours is the spot where no flowers grow.
There is where no mourners go.
Yo dere, Snow, ya got no more flow...
Fin
What do you think?
There is an illustration to this, and I'll probably get it up here eventually.... eventually being the key word...