Writings;;

This will be part of my site where if i write a poem, song, short story, or whatever i'll post it here so people can read and so i have a way of letting my thoughts flow onto the page...

Random poems i wrote when i was 13

Poem 1..

I see the way you look at me
Like i'm not really there

A memory from the past
One you'd rather not have in your mind
One that you hoped wouldn't last
If you were me how would you feel?
If everyone you ever loved
Forgot to love you back
Forgot that the shadows
weren't as loving as a hug or a simple smile
I'd run forever
Chase a rainbow for a mile
For only the touch of your hand
For every minute forgotten
Ever second not shared
A shadow forms inside your mind
Forgetting who put you where you were
But who will never be hard to find
~*+*~

Poem 2

*When friends seem too far away*

*and the world is no longer on your side*

*When the clouds no longer hold the rain*

*and the sun ceases to shine again*

*When every day seems as the last*

*and no noticeable time nor face has past*

*When giving up looks on the books*

*and sorrow's face bears a thousand looks*

* When rainbows are the dullest grey*

*And hopes come but never stay*

*When the light at the end of the tunnel seems to disappear*

*And there is nothing inside you but hatred or fear*

*When the road you're walking seems to never end*

*And your shadowed mind in your only friend*

*...wake up and smell the roses..*

*..watch nature live and thrive...

*and see how fortunate you are to be alive!*

A short story i wrote for my year 9 SATs mock

The shadows. Dancing to the flickering flames of the candles. The smell of the vanilla pods burning away inside the wax surroundings. Looking around; 4 walls, a high up ceiling and a window. The window to her world. Its small glass pane as thin as a sheet of paper. But as clear as if it were not even there. The warm coal fire heating the room, crackling as its flames flurry up the chimney and out through the roof.

The old grandfather clock in the far corner of the room covered in a blanket of cobwebs chimed twelve times, indicating that it was twelve o'clock, and by the black mist outside the window it must be evening. Her hand, frail and old reached out, grasped a cup from the mahogany coffee table and slowly raised it to her lips. Her eyelids felt heavy and she could barely see anything through her thick gold rimmed glasses. The old lady put down the cup and picked up her caine walking stick and glided carefully a few steps across the room to a rocking chair near the fireplace where a blanket lay neatly. By her side an old gramaphone sat playing an LP. She rested her head on the back of the rocking chair and slowly drifted off to sleep listening to the calming voice of Frank Sinatra.

When morning came she was awoken by the sound of plate fall on the floor and smash. Her head shot up and she quickly scanned the room, trying to locate the sound. She got up slowly and found her cat Jemima sitting on the breakfast table starring up at her. The old ladie's eyes lit up and her small thin lips parted, a little, to form a smile. Walking to the cupboard in which the cat food was she passed two photos on the wall. One was of her late husband, Harry in his army uniform age nineteen and the other of her younger brother Steven, also in his army uniform at the age of sixteen. They had both gone into the army to fight in the second world war. Neither came back alive. A tear filled her eye as she recalled the phone call two weeks after her marriage informing her of the death of her husband at such a young age. Ever since then the old lady had lived on her own in the countryside, with only her cat and her memories for company.