In The End

Let me write the story.
Let me have us holding hands,
fingers tracing veins
as we look up at a twilight space.
Have your hair blow in that golden glow,
as you talk to me, letting me know,
that we’ll stay like this forever,
even as the last chapter ends.


A Little Something More

The evening was a chill one, and the hunters were eager ones, as they hadn’t seen a single animal that day that could potentially be their prey. The place where the hunters had been looking was a forest located in eastern France. As they were scouting around they found their first prey of the day.

A large male deer came within their field of vision, many yards away. It had seemed that they had not yet caught its attention. They decided that one of them prepare to shoot it, before it got away. Just as one of them was about to go in for the kill, the other noticed something odd a few feet away from the deer. It appeared that it was a mine, left over from World War II. The other hunter warned his friend, and they decided they would be wary of it when getting their prey.

It seems that they had spoken as a little to loudly, because as they conversed, the deer turned in their direction. Now alerted to the hunters’ presence, the deer began to run. The hunters had a brief moment of disappointment, but was quickly dispersed as the deer stepped on the mine.

The hunters, although a safe distance away, were rattled by the explosion. As they were coming to, one said to the other, “I guess we got a bigger bang for our buck.”

Babies Are Deceiving

On your average day there was an average man taking a morning walk through his neighborhood. As he was strolling down his street he remembered that a local park had opened recently, and decided he should see how it looked.

When he arrived at the park he was was astounded by the work that had been done on the area. There was new landscaping, play sets, benches, and paths. While observing the scenery, he bumped into a mother and her baby.

“Hello there!” he said, “This new park is very nice, isn’t it?”

“Yes it is,” she replied, “I like to come here a lot.”

“I think I will too.” he said, “How old is you baby?”

“She’s as old as the hills.” the mother said. The man, confused by the mothers answer, asked her what she meant.

“The landscaping for this park was finished two months ago, didn’t you know?”

Curiosity Wasn’t Framed

One fine morning, a man wakes up in his home to start the day. He walks outside, dressed in his night gown and slippers, ready to pick up his newspaper.

But, low and behold, he finds not a rolled up piece of paper, but a ripped up piece of his cat.
Suddenly, his morning isn’t so fine. He continues to find bits of cat-bone and bits of cat-flesh all over his freshly trimmed yard. Horrified at his discovery, he goes back inside his house to start his hunt to find out just who did this terrible thing.

He asks his newly-awoken son who he thinks did this to their cat.

“Curiosity killed the cat!” his son proclaims. The man, slightly off put by his son’s answer, tells him that’s just an expression. Even more puzzled by his cat’s death, he goes off to ask his next-door neighbor.

Walking up the steps of the home, the man knocks on his neighbor’s door. His neighbor opens it, revealing himself to still be in his grey and plaid pajamas. The man asks if he knows anything about his cat’s carnage. Disgusted, the neighbor says no.

Right as the man is about to leave, a dog comes running up to the door from the inside of the house.

“Oh!” he exclaims, “I didn’t know you had a dog, what’s his name?”

“Curiosity,” the neighbor replies.

You’re Doing It Wrong

John was a sick boy. So of course, as John was a sick boy, he stayed in his bed. Now he wasn’t always sick, he used to be a happy little boy, always playing with the other happy little children. But there was one thing John always wanted to do besides live a joyful, carefree life. He wanted to draw.

And now, as he had fallen ill, he could no longer run around with the other children. He was stuck in his bed, wondering what he could do, when he remembered his wish. It’s perfect! He can practice drawing while he is sick! He was able to make use of his time, instead of wasting it away lying around and doing nothing.

Every day John drew the scene he sees from his bed. His window directly in front of him, the dresser on the left wall, and the door on the right wall.

As he began his mission, John’s artistic skill weren’t the best, to say the least. But he slowly got more detailed as time goes on, even drawing the area outside his window. He became so good at drawing the scene, he hardly needed to look up to make a detailed replica of his room.

But as with most illnesses, John’s didn’t last forever. He became better and was able to get out of bed and play with the other boys and girls. But first, he needed to test out his new skill. He went to the front of his house, and started to draw to what he saw. But he couldn’t. No matter what he tried, his drawings of his house always looked just as bad as his first artistic attempts.

Dejected, John left his dream behind, feeling sad about all the time he wasted in bed, and went to play with the other children.

What Happens?

The jungle is completely unfamiliar and amazing. It was something that grabbed attention but made you scared. The foliage was something to be enjoyed, except when you’re lost.

“We’ve been traveling along the stream for a while,” she said. “How long to you think until we find the source.”

“Well I did lose the map if you remember, so I have no idea.” He said.

“Right,” she said. “I forgot.”

Luckily they hadn’t run into any other living beings yet.

“Well then, I still know we’re going in the right direction, from what I remember.” He said.

Most of their walk was in silence. He walked in front, she walked behind. But it was really she who was more important.

“You know,” he said. “If we really do make it, What will we do afterwards? I mean will we go back and tell everyone what happened, but I don’t know if we will make it.”

“You really shouldn’t say that, you know.”

“I know that you don’t want to hear it, but it’s something we need to look at.”

“Stop.” she said.



A dark gray body of fur shot from behind a tree directly at him. It pushed him into the stream as he struggled to get away from under it’s grasp. She ran toward it with her knife out, and slashed right at it’s spine as it was about to chomp his head off. It convulsed for a few seconds until it fell over, dead.

“Let’s go.” She said.

He scrambled out from under the dead body as she took off with a head start up the river.

“How did they find us already?” He said, huffing.

“I don’t know,” she said, “But what concerns me is that it was alone. Others have to be close behind.”

“Or close ahead.”

They stopped dead in their tracks as directly in front of them, a large group of the creatures were emerging from the cave in which the stream flowed from.

Tips For Poems

Something I’ve noticed when going through the poetry and poem tags on WordPress is that the first few lines of poems are generally unintriguing and I tend to skip over most of them. I admit I have written some bad openers, but I feel that when I read a few lines of some these poems I lose interest or feel it’s too cliche. So I’d like to share a few tips on how to open up a poem that I have learned from my own experience.

1. Don’t use repetition.
I see people repeating a line to try to sound poetic or trying to make their poem flow, and while repetition when used correctly could turn out great, it is hard to use. Opening a poem with two lines of a repeating word make me as a reader feel like the rest of the poem will most likely be dragged on and not keep my attention up.

2. Don’t open with a question.
Using a question should be done later in the poem, as it is showing that the reader already knows about the subject of the poem, and the poet is asking the reader to dig deeper. When you use it at the beginning, it catches the reader off guard as you haven’t introduced to reader at all to your subject.

3. Build up.
Don’t start off with a full sentence unless necessary. Build up to a climax as you would in a story. It keeps the reader satisfied by giving more and more as you go on. It eases them into the poem, making them more familiar to it.

I hope these tips help with anyone’s writing! As these are many types of poetry, some times these tips won’t work, and you’re welcome to prove me wrong on any of these, as they are from my own experience.

It Almost Seems

The view from above the hilltop was gorgeous. Rolling hills dotted with fields, farmland, and forests spread out for miles, touching the base of a mountain range far, far, away. A light breeze lifted the smell of nature around the surrounding countryside. The vivid blue sky was completely empty of clouds.

It almost seemed as if this valley had hadn’t been touched by the hand of man yet. Although how could a place of such beauty be left untampered?

“It looks so peaceful here.” She said. “It’s almost as if this place is able to hide away from all the chaos.”

“No place can do that.” He said, taking a glance behind him. “This place just gives us the allusion that it’ll all be alright.”

“I think it will be.” She said. “Maybe not in our lifetime, but it will be.”

“I’d like to think that too.” He said. “I really do.”