I found depression in my mothers knuckles
And behind my fathers smile
Sometimes it hits you for no reason
And sometimes despite the sun
You can't find the light
But that’s alright.
We’ve all been blinded by the blanket of emotions that comes from falling down the precipice of union into love. While we only have one word for it, the ancient Greeks in their pursuit of wisdom and self-understanding, found seven different varieties of love that we all experience at some point:
EROS (EROTIC LOVE)
MANIA (OBSESSIVE LOVE)
STORGE (FAMILIAR LOVE)
LUDUS (PLAYFUL LOVE)
PRAGMA (ENDURING LOVE)
PHILAUTIA (SELF LOVE)
PHILIA (AFFECTIONATE LOVE)
AGAPE (SELFLESS LOVE)
Choose one as your topic and use it as the title of your poem or short story.
Tag your letter, "love".
The music was exciting, the weather bright. They were dancing as the music swept them from side to side. All eyes were on them. The stars of this evening.
When the song ended they sat down. He wondered if this was the right time to tell Adelaide that he only had a year to live. Maybe even only a couple of months. Jake really loved this girl and what nothing more than to be with her. But he had cancer and as much as he went to treatments, he wasn't getting better.
He had to tell her. He had to let her know the truth but how?
How was he going to break it to her that the one person that was bringing light into her life was about to leave as well?
Adelaide had just lost her parents ...
Life isn’t just sunshine and roses
Sometimes you need some gloom and doom
Otherwise the sun wouldn’t burn so bright and the roses smell so sweet
Finish The story.
Finish the story below and tag your letter 'storytime'. Leave a comment below when you're done. ;]
"The music was exciting, the weather bright. They were dancing as the music swept them from side to side. All eyes were on them. The stars of this evening.
When the song ended they sat down. He wondered if this was the right time..."
Each reply is a result of thousand thoughts. Some of them are spoken aloud while some are said within.
Her eyes have seen too much
And the truth is too much to bear.
Her voice speaks out loud
But no ears can't seem to listen to what she's not saying.
Her pretty little shoes tried to walk away from the violence that stripped away her innocence,
Knowing she will never walk the same way again.
She then tries to silence the truth with lies and childish stories
And ultimately believe it until it no longer haunts her.
Appearance is a powerful tool. And the biggest lie you can tell someone. I always used to think that a lie could be seen in someone’s eyes when told. That the truth would float up to the surface, visible like an oil stain on water. But it does not. Truths are like separated droplets in a sea. Unseen, submerged, dissolved. We only see the sea. Appearance is a powerful tool.
I don’t like the taste of coffee. But I drink it anyway because I feel like I need it. Sometimes. We need to move on fuelled by whatever floats our boats. As long as we keep pushing forward. Go, go. Figure it out. Figure it out. But don’t stop moving. I don’t like the taste of coffee because it’s bitter. It even sounds b...
Not everything can be poetry,
Not every word can have meaning,
Sometimes the deeper implications are lost,
Trying to satisfy the thirst for curiosity,
Sometimes the world just doesn't spin anymore,
Around the Sun it's supposed to circle,
You can get a candy you've always wanted,
Only to be snatched away before you take a bite,
The hopes tend to get raised,
When the omens seem to concur,
Only to be left disappointed,
When things go wrong,
Not that it was supposed to be right,
But you're mind made you wish it were,
If happiness is not the end,
Why take all means to get there,
If there's a better afterlife,
Why struggles through this hell,
What are you rat racing for,
When one end leads to anot...
Be mindful of what you place in your mind, what you allow in your heart, and what you invite into your spirit!
Since one of my favourite introverts, Avicii, died, I spent a lot of time thinking about this world ruled by extroverts. And how I actually think it's a bit unfair. Everytime someone is a bit shy or quiet, basically everyone around that person feel the need to ask why. People should try to understand that not everyone want to be the centre of the attention. Not everyone feel the need to be loud and assertive. It is neccessary sometimes, but not all the time and it doesn't come natural to all of us. I've watched Avicii's documentary and I actually felt chills when he mentioned Carl Jung and his theory of introverts and extroverts and when he said hapilly that he found himself to b...
Emotions seem to be more trouble than they arevworth.
Aren't we better off without them?
Comment your views on this!!!
Staunchly and wholeheartedly
That poetry can be
On its journey
To self discovery
I met a memory today. I met a memory today, soft as dew. Yes, it had been a while. Eight years, to be precise. My eyes danced in joy, in gratitude as I saw her for the first time in a very long time. Yes, it was way back in school. It was back in those playful and silly days when she made the most sense. Yes, amidst all the madness, all the immature childishness, she made sense. Being with her made sense. Being called by her made sense. She was special in a child's mind. Yes, she was a priceless possession. I loved the way she smiled, the same way she does even today! Those eyes behind the spectacles still pop out the same. Yes, her hair has grown longer, yes, she epitomises enigma. Yes, back...
There is something empty, something missing inside me,
Just like the lock is missing its key.
Every night, I toss, I turn,
My sleep leaves, as my thoughts burn.
My heart chained in grief and sorrow,
Happiness is the only thing that I need to borrow.
I feel my stubborn emotions, rebelling to be let out,
But will anyone understand, is a thing they doubt.
My ears crave for silence,
All I want is someone who will understand my heart's chaotic violence.
The true beauty in writing is often hidden away.
We make edits and changes in hopes that we can change what we perceive as imperfections.
Perhaps in a way we make these changes because we don't see ourselves as perfect so how could we believe anything we've written could be anything less.
Caking on edits in hopes of masking anything others might see as wrong or imperfect is never the way to express ourselves.
Writing should express the writer in the rawest form, as they are not as they are as a face in the crowd.
Believe in the beauty of your words and the beauty of the writer putting them to paper.