7/26/05 12:12 pm - pmaccabe
7/22/05 03:46 pm - mobilesuithomer
If you want to read what I have done of the script, go to the journal lowbudgetdead
Below the cut is some poetry I've written. Be warned, however:
It contains a poem written from the perspective of a zombie.
Also, if you like the poetry, I can add you to the friends list of my poetry journal, rabbitsonthesun
( You know you like it...Collapse )
7/18/05 11:26 pm - nicksislds - My goal is to update more...
I'm really going to try my best to put more poems on here. Even if you don't comment on it I hope you read it and enjoy it immensely. :)
Sacred and clean
like a lamb,
I came into this world
into loving arms
who protected me
when I was most alone,
Those arms carefully
let me go when they knew
I wasn't alone,
So now I run free
but I still follow...
the arms who held me
when I was alone,
because those arms
teach me how I
should someday hold
my own little lambs.
7/14/05 11:30 am - nicksislds
I haven't been writing lately poems much because my life is really busy. I found a poem that I wrote my Freshmen year in College (in a month I'll be a Senior in College... crazy) and I thought it was pretty good and it cracked me up so I thought I would share it. Hope you enjoy and keep writing. :)
"I Know Better"
By: Nicole R. Stott
Words were first created
So why are you yelling?
Grunting would equal
as much meaning that you screech
in my non-caring ears.
is visably flying
off your tounge right now.
Do not dare to tell me where
I was a minute ago
because I know better
Your words are so untrue
they whisper about
your tactless and trashy ways;
they make me look better.
Still you keep on yelling.
No matter how many
times you may repeat...
they'll never bear importance.
Your words just annoy me.
You're the leach on my arm.
I'm pulling you off now.
I'm walking away.
You are not worth my anger.
You called me that crude word
but oh, I know better.
I am not a "dog".
I will walk away with words
growing in my headstrong mind
that are more damaging
and more articulate
than yours will ever be.
I won't say them though.
I'm too much of a lady.
6/4/05 12:05 pm - lizala2000
"Walkway of Salt"
Down the beachway path, the gray day in place
the sky damp and unmoving.
We stood breathing pure seal and crow.
Small striped red and white, the shirt my brother wears,
and his face is very small. This is the point
when the train would
whistle in the far left
around a curving bend far away, snaking and thudding
on the track. Clever as a snake, it draws
closer slithering noisily banging into the clouds
and Thomas, he rushed forward hoping for blue plastic, deeds, friendly.
What he gets is a roaring, screaming monster exploding
beneath us, and we are too stunned to yank
our arms down and ask him to whistle, but he does
and the sound is that of Dante's gate creaking
while he stands there with arms firm clapped
over small ears, elbows out, pantless,
Boxcars filled with pillows, sand, gas.
5/27/05 03:38 pm - lizala2000
I've been feeling really uninspired lately, and sort of lost about life in general. I'm getting my patriarcal blesing pretty soon though, and I'm really hoping that will point me in some direction - tell me if writing is something I can depend on in the future. Here's an example of the kind of crap I'm stuck with while I'm in this down period. : )
like an island between chopping waters, silence in raging noise,
I am sitting down on warmed grass in the hot sun and sparkling leaves,
filtering their whishing and sunning to a high blue
over my open head
the book I read, pages turning, feels like a dream where I read I think I know in a book
and the book is hurting me
"pain hunger hurt" I read again and again, and like a bird in an open sky, a thumb behind fingers
I stand in the middle of the most beautiful day we've known and begin to cry
5/18/05 04:34 pm - lizala2000
I am looking down a long sloping street and
with my looking time changes
as I reckon myself lonely and turn the tables
for keeping looking the sun shines on a road dark with rain
brightly wet and suddenly like a
tunnel lined with green plastic cans
keep to the faith, I think, as the darkness opens to beauty
and a white van drives by with a speculating driver
who thinks, odd,
as he looks at this kid
staring down the road