Think of what you would leave, nothing at all.
The careless stumbling, the purposeful fall.
A run from nothing, no one thinking of
The endless blundering, forgotten love.
You’ll run ever further, carrying thefts:
Bags full of yourself are all you have left,
Dragging you down, yet despite what they’ll weigh,
oh! Much more so are the pieces that stay.
I’ll wander after you, at least at first,
You’ll never look back, so I’ll dread the worst.
I’ll love you dear, but it won’t stay as such.
Why are you the one that matters so much?
Run every day, search for an ending,
Run every day, far from a mending.
This story is set in the same universe as The Giver
No weather penetrated the barriers of the Community, but Ravan felt a storm of terror. It threatened to engulf her as she pedaled her bicycle down the river path, hurrying towards the House of the Old. No one would have guessed, with her serene expression, orderly clothing, and hair neatly brushed - but then, no one but Ravan could know of true terror in the first place. For reasons she still could not understand, the Community had no true emotion, no creativity, no weather, no hills - No love. No life. And soon -in five days, to be exact - she was to become a full member of it, at her Ceremony of Twelve. It was this causing her terror - after what she had seen, what she had discovered, she simply could not do this…… She took a breath to steady herself, wheeling her bike into its port outside the House of the Old, then looking around surreptitiously. To any Elders that might be observing her, it would hopefully look as though she was preparing to spend her last Volunteer Hours there; she had come often. Then she tensed her legs, tightened her shoulders, preparing to make the exhilarating dash -
“Hello, Ravan!” She spun around. It was Jonas, coming out of the House of the Old was another of their fellow Elevens, Fiona. She smiled, then headed for her bicycle, and with a goodbye, sped off. Jonas lingered for a moment. His odd, light eyes met Ravan’s equally strange ones - one light, like his, and one dark, like the majority of their Community. Jonas was one of the few people who ever seemed to notice Ravan, much to her annoyance.
They came to me in 2002.
They told me there was a prize at the end for two.
So I chose you,
To come with me to complete the journey of two.
I thought the journey would be quick and smooth,
But it was filled with seven rooms which was the truth,
But I still went on the journey of two,
To win the prize for me and you.
We landed in a room of blue.
It wasn’t comfortable to you, so we broke through.
We came to a room filled with purple.
Filled with journals,
Journals that were wet from tears and only held circles.
I couldn’t stand it for too long.
It all seemed so wrong.
So, we carried on,
As we yawned.
Next up was the green room,
With the smell of perfume,
But it wasn’t just the perfume,
It was some sort of a boom.
We stood there in complete silence,
But somehow I knew there, a clock in the distance.
Ticktock, ticktock, ticktock as it went,
The thought of the pendulum caused you to lament.
So I told you not to worry,
Because it was a clock and that we should probably hurry.
We tried to go to the next room,
But the walls didn’t let us through.
I knew somewhere in my mind,
A trap of a kind.
You started to cry,
And I asked you why.
You told me that we were getting closer,
That life bringing us lower.
You told me that the rooms weren’t just about sweetness and light,
And that we are stuck here in the darkness of the night.
Time is a prisoner running away,
It committed a bloody, painful crime,
Took someone’s precious life.
Time is like a car on the furious highway,
Driving too fast,
Can’t hold it in one place.
Time is a leader,
Tells you where to go,
Makes you choose a path.
Time is a nurse,
Or a terrorist,
Time heals all wounds, time wounds all heels.
perhaps twice a year, if I am lucky
I sit on a soft seat of a material I do not know
crammed into a row with two or three other people
with merely inches between my seat and the one in front of me
I have no room to stretch my legs
or move at all
and I will stay that way
one person in a long line
and I love it
For beyond the glass of the window
is the sky
a sweep, a swirl
puffy or thin, drifting clouds
bright, blue, blue
and I am with it
not looking up at it, but right there
flying in forever
the earth a patchwork quilt below
and I have a book
brimming with adventure and emotion
in my lap
a pad of paper
if I want to create my own story
in front of me
And I know where I am going
where happiness and laughter and comfort
My father and I, traveling to his parents’ home
thrill jolts through me at the prospect
Thrilling, wondrous, flying in the sky
It’s different now, but I still feel:
Where else could I feel so free, so me, so happy?
-poem based on the Patricia MacLachlan book All the Places To Love.
It silently falls
Like someone pouting
But then I see it-
Lighting and Thunder
Now silently it rains drastically
More and More
Faster and Faster
Now it stops just wet
It silently falls.
There you are,
I see you
I know you, who you are, who you masquerade yourself to be
I see when your fists clench, your jaw tightens
as you walk past rows of people
with not a thought in their minds
I see your shoulders slump, your eyes dull
when you sit at a desk and wish to be
far, far away
I see your body tense, hear your fiery words
at injustice and prejudice
I see, in the crowd
as you huddle into yourself, clamp your mouth shut
keeping your dreams contained
I see, everywhere you go
How you keep your bright eyes down, turn away, shoulders raised
How you never speak
in a truly joyful voice
Your snarls, your sarcasm, your bitterness
That is you
That is the you they know
But I know
that is not you
For I see you
When you hunch over a desk, your mind somewhere far away, someplace beautiful
and breath stunning life into pen marks
When music flows around you
your eyes sparkle,
knowing that you can make it through
When you laugh with your friends
I see the golden ray of happiness that blooms
in the air and your heart
When you slump over a book, head down
your mind is far away, and you wish to be there
And you love
When you look out a small window, thousands of feet in the air
and watch the flowing whipped clouds, the endless rosy sky
and wish to fly
I see you smile
When you are alone,
wandering a great castle, surrounded by a vast woods
Knowing the path; enveloped in art, legends, lore, bright peace
I see your spirit soar
That is you
That is the you only you can know
Do not hide yourself away
Let them see you
see who you truly are
Rise, shine, fly
like an infant bird
into the light.
The wind made my face numb
The darkness and the mysteriousness of the night made it worse
I had nothing to look forward to
I could not see a reason to live
The endless track seemed to disappear when I tried to look in the distance
Just like I was going blind
The moon was as big as the world
The whole area tasted bitter
The sound of the wild dogs
The sound of the train
It was coming closer
I didn’t dare to look back
I let it seep into me
The pain, the memorizes, the sadness
All inside of me
As if depression was a monster
I could feel its breath
But all of a sudden
All that was left was darkness
Your melodious notes heave me like a mother lifting her newborn child
Your ravishing and majestic sound makes life easier, a blanket, taking my stress away, giving me warmth
Whenever you open your mouth to speak, you take me away to a new world of a never ending luxury where there is no regret and everything is calm
If you weren’t there then there wouldn’t have been birds humming
When I listen to you, you give me a soul
Whenever I sing you, I smell freedom in the air
Inspirational every time you speak
You remember the times when you found me in the down zone?
Remember when you lifted me up with your words?
I remember those days when I had nothing left but you
Oh how you unbended me
Oh music sweet music
Oh what would I do without you?
Note: This is an excerpt from Julianna's NaNoWriMo novel
A storm was brewing. There was a soft pitter-pattering of rain on windows, and a low growl of thunder that sounded from time to time. Although, in the small apartment on the second floor of a dirty, soggy apartment building, there was only one small window, high up on the wall, and the only reminder of the rain was the steady stream of water that flowed down the wall from a leak. Maxwell Marlowe, however, wouldn’t have noticed the rain anyway. He sat at his desk, the only piece of furniture in the room besides his bed, and stared at a sheet of extremely messy calculations. A pencil, held in his right hand, tapped against the desk. Finally, his gaze shifted to a strange device, lying on the floor. It was a bright, shining silver, and looked like a large, thin, elegant pen - except for a sphere at the top, which rotated and seemed to shine with many different, soft, hypnotizing, colors. Several wires were connected to various parts of the pen, which were in turn plugged into an electrical outlet on the wall. For several moments, Maxwell examined different parts of the pen, the silence in the room heavy. Then, the spell of pristine quiet was broken.