23 jul. 2009

Short story

From the shadows, a graceful figure strode to him.
He started moving slightly his hand on his sketchpad.
Stopped. Then deciding it was imposible to capture such fairness on paper.

His eyes stood open: unblinking. He thought he might start crying out the dryness, when suddenly he felt a pang and the urge to turn away. As the fugure got closer he saw shimering light, like the sun's, radiating from the edges of her body.

With bewilderment, he thought of a godess, but as it stode closer, turning back his head towards the figure, he saw it was a known face.

That's why he couldn't make himself draw such a beauty. Feeling delirious and half mad; he could feal his imagination overflowing him, giving the silhouette two wings that made her look like a bright angel. She got closer and stoke the back of her hand to his cheek, her skin as soft as silk and very light at the touch made him think he had just imangined her caresss, but he felt seconds later, her hand almost inexistant to his sences, still on his skin, the inside of her hand cupping his face.

Why couldn't he draw her?
Such a fascinating, angelical face, not being captured on paper for the world to see. Just then he realized why he wouldn't draw her.
He didn't want to cage her with the lines drawn from a pencil, he loved her too much to bind her to a sheet of paper forever.

At this realization, he lifted his hand to rest it on hers, as she took his other hand in hers to never let go.

16 jul. 2009

Endorah Lyah

The first post I ever wrote, I relly liked how it made me feel when I finished writng it, and I just wanted to share it with you again!


-"Today is a new start." I keep on repeating to myself, until I reach the door that will lead me somewhere I’m too afraid to know where it leads. I take a deep breath and let my hand rest on the door knob and stay still for what feels like an eternity.

I feel myself turning to get one last glance of the place I am leaving behind, a room so warm, which holds many memories from a past out of reach.

One memory takes over me: images of when I was five start making their way into my mind; I can see my grandma cradling me on her bed, I can feel her hands soothing my hair, I can feel my body relaxing and a rush of peace overwhelms me. I have stopped crying, but I steel have tears drying up on my cheeks. I had been crying due to the loss of a recently acquired golden fish, given to me on my birthday. Suddenly one morning I found him floating on the water in hi fish bowl, and grandma explained that he had left this world to go to the next. She knew exactly how to make me feel better, she embraced me tightly for a few seconds and then whispered in my ear before she let go, she said: -”The only way through of the labyrinth, dear, is to move on and move forward, there is no other way out.

I didn’t quite get what she meant at the time, but I can understand it now; what happened-happened, there is no way of changing that, you can only move on and move forward, leave the past where it belongs and where it will remain forever. In the past.

I turn to look at the door in front of me, that barrier that protects me from what is waiting on the other side. I stand afraid and unwilling in front of it.

I see the word FUTURE printed in my mind, a very strong word used to define what is yet to come. That six letter word holds many feelings, ones are of fear from the unknown and the lack of information and knowledge that come from it; yet it also holds hope. Hope for change and progress, that will maybe even bring a knew beginning.

But once you dare to go through, you find that nothing is as you expected, you will always be surprised by the outcome, with hat you find on the other side.

Once you understand that it is not what’s on the other side that will cause a change, but what you do with what you find there that will.

I read a book once, called “A great and terrible beauty” by Libba Bray, where a few words stayed on my mind, they read:”There will never be safe choices, just different ones.” It is so very true, there will never be safe choices, there can only be choices, different if you wish, but whichever your choice, there will always come something good and something bad from it. Like my arts teacher once explained, in a painting there has to be a necessary balance of light and shadow, which is very similar with how life is supposed to function.

Choice. The choices you make will affect you in a positive or negative way, but to be more at peace with yourself and the choices you make, you have to be willing to accept the concrescences of that choice, no matter what they are.

Finally, I got the courage to reach for the door knob, give it a twist, push the door open, and with that done and my head cleared; right at that moment I knew I was ready to step into the unknown.

2 jul. 2009

Hopes and Dreams

If you could hear my hopes and dreams

You would see

How far I’ve gone in the deep blue sea


Hanging my wishes over my head

Holding them near with a big, thick thread

Keeping them attached to my bosom, instead

Of having to chase them with a loaf of bread


Seeking for pure hearts and happy souls

I ended up with a big, huge bowl

Filled with various amazing things

Wishes and dreams and hopes and wings


Leading the way through the midnight path

Getting to see the other half

I lead them on to a better life

Finding the farmer a suitable wife


Talking the homeless with no regret

Into my household, without any debt

Looking for places for children to fly

Letting them know they can go very high


Their hopes and dreams

Accomplished one day

Will bring back memories

Memories of yesterday


by Alexa Honey

1 jul. 2009

Misery

Sharing a walk with the street

Great sorrow in my surroundings

Poverty at my feet

Making me see the warnings


The Earths soul is slowly dying

I can’t hear its inner fire growling

Making a hole in my heart

Piercing my ears with great art


Filled with sorrow

Waiting for the morrow

Filled with greave

Not knowing if the world will heave


All the wrong being done

Has made me shift realities

I wish it were all gone

Wish it were a mere illusion


By Alexa Honey