A Firefly

This was a peace of work I did a long time ago... Wrote it in my Grade 8 English class (4 years ago), a tribute to the Canadian poet PK Page. All of our poems were delivered to PK Page by our English teacher. We were allowed to write however we wanted. I decided to use images that PK Page used in her own poetry in my tribute to her.

You are like a firefly,

            Taking the first steps into darkness alone,

Until others realize Your beauty and come to join you.

            The light, shimmering from the dark,
The warmth you feel stirring inside.
           

            You can hear the singing of Brazilian Natives,

                        As Your paintings bring a delightful taste to your mouth.

You unspoken words touch the soul,
            Your voiced advice compels.

            You have always been a gift from God.

A world traveller, some may say,
            but maybe you have been wandering the Earth..

England blew the top of your head off.

Australia gave you all the words you needed while

Brazil and Mexico left you speechless.

            “The stars keep on shinning,
                        within and above.”

You suggest to the word to caress the Earth.
Polish the trees; Wash the streams.

You lead the way unnoticed by many,

While many follow you without noticing.

You will be asked
            “Where on Earth are you going?”
But while others are able to answer for you,
            You may not have an answer for yourself.

You are not part of a picture.
You are the picture.
            The picture that is part of a collage, part of something great.

You are like a firefly.
You are PK Page.

Sacrifice

Another piece of Creative writing that I did for my English class. We had to write from first person, and write on the topic of sacrifice. We also had to include at least 1 flashback... This is one of my favorites from this year.

                The silence made me look up, and I saw 5 blurred faces staring at me. I couldn’t make out any detail, but I guess they were anxiously waiting to hear what I would say. I wrung my hands together, and opened my mouth, but no sound came out. Kathleen handed me a glass of water as I wiped the tears from my eyes; I looked at her and she nodded, assuring me that I could do this. Taking a sip, the coolness in my throat felt unfamiliar, and almost immediately I wished that I hadn’t swallowed, because now I had no excuse. I picked up Douglas, my stuffed monkey, and gave him a squeeze.

                “I’ll do it.” The voice seemed distant, and unfamiliar, but it was my words all the same. The two lawyers turned to each other and started talking; Katie’s mother reached for my arm with a shaky hand, and quietly whispered “Thank you” as she tried to hold back tears. Immediately I flinched away from her touch, I couldn’t handle any thanks at the moment. Fears were bombarding my thoughts; my heart began to race as I realized what I had just gotten myself into. Kathleen, sensing the start of a panic attack, came over and crouched in front of me.

                “This is what we’ve prepared for, Sarah,” she whispered to me, her eyes soft but determined. “We’ll finally be able to get him for all the pain he has put you through. Think of Katie, if you’re scared. Do this for Katie. This little girl needs you.” My grip around Douglas tightened. I knew exactly what Katie had been through, and I knew what would come next for her if this trial did not go through. My jaw set, and I knew what had to be done.

                That night I tossed and turned in my bed as usual, but the nightmares were different. The dimly lit bedroom was replaced by a courtroom, and the rows of stuffed animals transformed into a jury. 2 years had passed since this scene, and still it troubled me. Although the setting was different, the monster was the same, haunting my thoughts both day and night.

                I sat on a bench, and a lawyer stood in front of me. He asked me a question, but all I could do was blink. Behind him and to the left my uncle sat, staring at me. Pain shot through my body as memories seared through my thoughts. I cringed as each horrific memory hit me in a single instant. I couldn’t bring myself to speak, even though I needed to. Tears rolled down my cheeks as fell off the bench and curled into a ball. I couldn’t do what my lawyer had asked. Later that day, the judge explained to the court why there would be no sentencing, but all I could remember was ‘mistrial’ and ‘lack of evidence’

                I woke up in a cold sweat. The day had come, the day I would face my tormentor one last time. I prepared myself for the day, changing into the clothes laid out on the chair and distractedly running a brush through my hair. The entire drive to the court house I clutched my monkey in my hands, telling myself that I would be brave, that I would do this for Katie. Walking from the car to the waiting room and then being led to the bench was all a blur. I just kept thinking of the little girl who needed me. I would sacrifice my comfort for her healing; I would get justice for our case.

                I sat down on the bench, and Katie’s lawyer stood in front of me. He asked me a question, but all I could do was blink. My uncle was behind him, staring at me. My mouth went dry, and my insides curled into a knot. But I thought of Katie, took a deep breath, and then told the court what my uncle, my tormentor, had done.

Renewal

Here's another piece of creative writing from my english class... This one piece had to have a theme of renewal. Not a favourite of mine, although it makes me smile all the same.

    The nights were growing longer; the cold was seeping into my bones. My senses were hibernating and my soul had shriveled. It is like I was frozen under a lake, able to see through but unable to touch anything, cut off from reality and slowly losing the energy to stay at the surface. Colors had faded, sounds were only echoes; the world around me was dull. I kept wondering each night if it would finally be the last time I fell asleep with the weight pressing on my chest. Passively I went through the motions each day, only to collapse each night and wake the next morning.
    I continued on, trudging through the mud of life, barely able to put one foot in front of the other. Exhausted, my steps faltered and I stumbled. The streets were cold and the hard ground below me provided no comfort or reprieve from the despair. My eyes fluttered shut and I drifted off, finally free from my bondage.
    I woke up in a room of white. Warmth had spread through me, and the world around me was alive and busy. I sat up, and a lady walked towards me.
    "Ah, you’re awake” she said, picking up a chart from the end of my bed. “Glad you’re feeling better. Police brought you in last night—It was a cold one out there. Do you have a place to stay, sir?” I shook my head slowly, ashamedly looking down at my hands. They looked odd; filthy, calloused hands resting on crisp sheets of white. The nurse left me, and I was alone with my thoughts
    Suddenly I sensed someone watching me. I looked around, and saw a little girl one bed over.
    “Hi Mister!” she exclaimed enthusiastically before jumping down from her perch and coming to stand beside me. Her parents were nowhere to be seen "My name is Daisy. How long have you been here for? I just got here this morning, but I come here a lot.” I gnawed on my bottom lip before I told her that I had been there for the night.
    “Oh, did you have dinner here? Whenever I stay in the hospital they always have really bad dinner, but I always like dessert. It’s hard to screw up ice cream, in my opinion.”
    I laughed, surprising myself. I couldn’t remember the last time I laughed. I asked the young girl why she was here.
    “Well, I have leukemia. I come to the hospital every few days for a check-up. When I’m not in the hospital though, I do lots of other things. Mom and dad are letting me skip school for the rest of the year before my time comes. Doctors think I have six or seven months.”
    I didn’t know what to say to her, was embarrassed that I even asked. I had not expected her to be so openly honest when I had inquired to her stay. I wondered how she could be so alive when she was so close to death. I sat there, trying not to stare at her, but unsure of what to say next.
    “I know it’s scary…” she said quietly, playing with the weave of the blanket on my bed, “But I try not to let it beat me. I don’t have time to be sad or scared. That would be a waste of time. Quite literally.” Instantly she was the bubbly excited girl again, and began talking about her best friend’s birthday party that was coming up.
    Eventually, the girl’s parents returned, and they laughed when they realized their daughter had made a new friend. I told them that she was a very sweet girl, and noticed the tears in their eyes as they looked at their daughter, who had skipped down to the next patient to say hello. A short while later the nurses released me, with directions to a local shelter. I stepped outside into a crisp breeze, the cold weaving its way through my clothes and tickling my skin. I looked around at the people hurriedly walking down the street, bundled up from the chill. I turned down the street, following a path of orange and red leaves, left over from the trees. And then, with the sun shining through the fluffy winter clouds, I saw a little white flower, growing up through a crack in the sidewalk. I bent down to pick it, and then stopped myself. Smiling, I walked on, deciding to let the daisy live out its life.

Sing to Me, Muse

In my AP English class, we have a student-taught seminar each week. At said seminar, we are assigned a creative writing assignment, due a week later. I always leave my assignments till the night before, but I'm usually quite proud of my work. The other day, as I was beating myself up for not having any good blog post ideas, I thought that maybe it would be cool to share some of my creative writing. So here it goes... This assignment was to write a miniature epic poem (about a hero). I chose to write about an uncommon hero...


   * * *


Sing to me, Muse, of the young girl of many ways,
Who was driven far journeys.
Sing to me, Goddess, the pains and joys
Placed thousand fold upon her shoulders and her heart.
On gloomy and sparkling days alike,
As little Malo proved her strength,
Met her fiend once again after countless encounters,
And defeated the beast once and for all.
Sing to me, Muse, of the chaos called life,
For one little girl.
* * *

For this child, turmoil was customary.
One battle followed by another,
An endless flow of conflicts,
Coming and going like the ocean tide.
Although small, Malo prevailed.
Her deep-seeded faith
And the ingrained curiosity pulled her through.
When others would fall,
The young girl found herself standing.
When others would harm,
Malo would find her power.
As darkness fell this night the small girl waited,
Her small friends stuffed around her
Admiring her for her liveliness.
They had watched the battles before,
Each time silently praying for her success.
It would seem that nothing shake her little frame,
But as the light was fading, so was hope.

* * *
Malo’s nameless beast was persistent,
Relentlessly attacking, only to escape without notice.
Whenever the girl got a hold of it,

The monster slipped out of her grasp.

He appeared once again this night,
Without a warning and without a cause.
Malo was helpless, her strength finally reaching its end.
Tooth and nail she fought
Her heart five times bigger than her whole,
But in the end it was not enough.
Her beast stood over her, pausing before a final blow.
Looking up with tears in her eyes
Malo did not run away.
She faced her monster and knew what was to come.
Acceptance ran through her veins,
As faith beat in her chest.
She looked up at her monster
A small child staring at a great beast.
This young girls of many ways had done what she could,
And what was to happen next would come
With protest or without,
And so the little girl stopped.

* * *

Sing to me, Muse, of the chaos young Malo defeated,
Not purely with strength, nor determination,
But by faith in life, faith in love.
Sing to me, Goddess, of the purity of a child,
Scarred by sorrow and troubled by joy,
Whose might was too great for words.
Study me, show me, then tell me and learn me,
How such a small child can bear such a great weight.
How such a young girl can have such vast knowledge.
Sing to me, Muse, of the wisdom in life,
In the strength of a child.