Writers

The perfect dream
About the past and presant
Is coming alive.

Hi,
My name is Tia Mei Jacobs.
I am twelve years old.
Please check out my blog, I think you might like it, if you do please leave a message in my guestbook.
Tia Mei
x

Tenderly I caress your spongy hide
You’re breathing leisurely in your coyness
But the resolve with which you stir
Compels me to trust your devotion.
On my pedestal I observe in open gaze
Delighted to be in your company
I accept your polyandry, prepared to share your love
So fragile is your touch.
I’m overwhelmed by your emotion
Glad to take you as my thrall
And in an instant I loved you so passionately
My Courtesan, my one true love.
Do you trust my humility? Do you relish the frankincense?
Not factitious, I cry in euphoria
Here in my lassitude, like an opium trip.
In my mirth beneath the mistletoe
A yearning to transform your misogamy
And you become my wife
A dwelling in the fringes
I live for the day you present yourself to me.

Desolate my mind as it bends in this saturated world
Untrustworthy scabs envelop my eyes
Once again I hemorrhage from puss filled scars
Poverty bound, this cancerous echo deepens in my sorrow
My back is bent, doubled in agony
Crawling on blistered knees, in the shadow of the afterlife
A place to abhor those ever pittying reptiles.
My reminiscences are faded now, yet visions of smiles preoccupy me
Eyes once vivid but torn from sockets and cast into deep ravines
Like tumors by malignant hands
I feel taut grips around my throat
My heart is ripped out and destroyed
Many will perish tonight
This hell that we call existence s a bitter demise.

So I’m walking through town
Up High street, passed Barnardos
And I see this bird, and she’s well fit
Tight fitting top, See her cleavage, almost all she’s got
Tattoo on her shoulder, one on her navel
And I wanna see her naked, wanna see her in my bed
And I recon I will in my head
Tonight if I think hard enough
Yea, I might just keep that image there
Call her my Tuesday girl Tell myself I could have her
If I saw her again , If I were prepared
Had my words ready like so I don’t get tongue tied
Talk a lot of crap
Say “in’it warm?” how dulls that?
So I’d say “You wanna go out sometimes?”
And she’d say “I. Why not.” And I’d say. “Disrales tonight?”
She’d say “Alright.”
That’s what ill do.
If I see her again.

An odd moment of jubilation

Oh hearts the lightest
From bright eyes mine
Jumps now my gladdened spirit
In ecstacy not quite sublime

But happy to know that the sunlight
Flecks the golden land
And the ransomed are returning
No longer my heart contraband

Fly fly until you can no more
Touch the burning sun ray
Not to melt this lovely wing
As Icarus lost his way

And pride corrupted journey
Upon which all hubris sits,the gods
Themselves approve this joy
Soar oh heart up over and above this!

Camping

On Saturday in Lewisham
When I was just a little ‘un
When I couldn’t play outside
Because of rain or when I’d lied
I’d get the ladder off my bunk
I’d get the clothes horse
And a trunk
I’d get the sheets off of my bed
I’d tie a tie around my head
And using all the furnishings
Curtains, rugs and railings
The room I would transform into
A den or pirate ship or two
With my sister close in tow
And my brother who seemed to know
The best ways to balance the desk
And always knew what books were best
For weighing down the cleanish sheets
And making sure that it was all neat
So that the longest time could pass
Before my mother at long last
Comes all the way up the stairs to check
And finds my room a complete wreck
She tells me at once to tidy up
And as she turns and sips her cup
I think that that is all,
But on the way out she sees something
And then begins to bawl:
“My clean sheets!” I hear her cry
Her face is full of fury
But then my brother steps in
As sober as a jury.
He takes the blame and tidies up
And folds away the sheets
He grins at me and whispers
“We’ll do the same next week.”

Without the ‘second’ the roundness of the clock wouldn’t matter.
There would be no direction, time without comprehension.
The hour would lose its track, the day would lose its identity,
And the months and years would remain confused.
The value of the ‘second’ may sound worthless,
But without its small presence, bigger things would not exist.

This challenge is slightly different as it's being run in conjunction with the "Blogship Lollipop" group. Members of that group are poised to embark upon an adventure to places they've perhaps only ever dreamt about. Before they set sail each member has been asked to write about their ultimate destination:

FANTASY ISLAND

I thought perhaps some of you would like to write about this too?

If possible please include a link to the Blogship Lollipop or better still why not come along for this amazing journey?

Enjoy!

I feel too much.
Deep breaths and stillness walking in.
Empty and yet filled with abrasion and political silence.
She lies.
Lies.
Lies some more.
Sitting within my shell I dignify my quietness.
Quietness against the barrage.
I feel inadequate.
I feel weak.
I feel I've let the side down.
I feel.
I feel too much.

Brittling composure and fabricated ruin.
Fabricated failure.
Threatening.Threatening.

No waterproofing today.
Leaving a dark, black mascara trail.
The hands are clasped.
The heart absorbs another jolt of hurt.

When will it end.
Glimmering, lightning flash of self harm, self death.
Images of the knife that won't cut through.
Mind standing up for the raised blue vein.

Hauntings are back.

Jimmy we are moving...

It seems you and I are moving to the country.
I see the lanes coming on strong with the scent of flowers
And the coastline is no longer twisting its head
To make sea beasts of hours I have thought bad and mad.

The wind is circling and higher design is kestrel
Hovering but no longer liking his dinner so he drops
And while yet suddenly exhausted takes a pipe
Of peace and nests again in hope and possibility

So too with the hours again with your soul mate talk
I relive as bright as my feathered tail
I no longer swoop for your love and will not take
I am content to love you more and sea dragons have no power

Firebird

Firebird singing in the dead of night
Who shall stop his flame?
Plumage candescent and oh so bright
Illumines the world again

He is born of the sun and the flower
He eclipses the arid plain of dark
He is christ eternal in energy powered
The buddha that fixes all smarts

So too we that plunge into flower
To taste the honey of flaming release
Greet the firebird on his burning wing
Wherein our centres cleansed,relieved.

Voodoo is a wonderful word yet has some negative undertones.
You need Imagination for Voodoo to work?
You need Imagination to enhance?
You need Imagination to create?
You need Imagination to communicate?
Time is only imagined?
Gravity is only Imagined?
Knowledge is all Imagination?
And Knowledge is what changes us?

We all have an Imagination?
so we all have a common ground?

How we choose to use it is questionable sometimes and beautiful at other times.

I magi nation

Would you, could you, voodoo, with me?
Bond as a vine,
Persist, in a line,
ah, ecstasy;
In the exchange,
expanding the bound,
A fearful strange,
surreal, is found.

Would I, should I,
enhance, with you?
Explore the floor;
electric core
Glows, red and blue.
Fear in the heart,
expresses in eyes,
Effervescing part,
explodes, then dies.

Would we, should we,
imagine, new?
Concept instruct;
Learn then construct…
beautiful.
Future is near,
revealing a past,
insane severe is half the cast.

http://joebloggs.blog.co.uk/2008/07/15/cochyn-bach-y-cwm-chapter-4452595

L'ABSENCE

Nowhere to go and the dustbowl still is scattering
something of my love for you...

I rise up like fire and try to hold
but crumble too when I do not hear from you.

Letters are the biggest con going...

It is another day here in Glasgow and the sun is wanting a break out. I sit wondering why no thoughts come. Am I awake or sleeping? But dreams burst and sooner or later what is mind becomes manifest. If i have thought what i feared has come on me then conversely I have the power to change into the good. This is the Law of Attraction. It has no favourites. So think only good...and leave behind the negative. Blessings to all

John

Narnia wanted again

Soft the hand that seeks his velvet
But never to hold the unlimited day
How to hold truth that love lasts forever
When love seeks to scuttle away?

For I have loved them all in essence
My romantic darling had me had
Love I loved the idea too much hurting
Lamp posts in the midnight have I trapped

Not that they stone folk unmoved
They were blithe and birds sang their way
Rather I looked for the lamp post to Narnia
For those who are alas away

And yet one lit me beyond all coldness
In heat, in truth, in sense of being drawn
Will I see his eyes flash the tears of remembrance
And feel his velvet paws,that glorious morn where

Oh too yes I am a child again and nothing
Takes from the path of winter and no Christmas gift
When I again push back dust in the back of wardrobe
Oh Christ, oh love,oh Aslan,oh precious uplift!

hi all,im very new to the site so just wanted to say hello to everyone.friends tell me im a natural storyteller and one day i should put pen to paper and try writing.i have started a semi-fictional blog so if you have the time pop in to deisegirlblog.blog.co.uk id love to hear any opinions good or bad
cheers folks x

p.s i cant find the spell check button on this thing either so if anyone can help with that id be very grateful

My head spins,I cannot leave
But neither comfortably stay
My cheek is bulging for your touch
My cheek in ashen grey

Many times lay I with you
Pressed soft against your face
The sun filtered through your beat up blind
Oh God only knows what place!

Come again love if you will
If not then let me die
Take my cheeks of longing dust
And place my golden sky!

hi! just popped in to say pleased to meet you all and you are welcome to visit my home on the web,"peaceful haven,blog.co.uk". I enjoy writing poetry and short stories both for children and adults but most of my time is taken up writing blogs these days.

Inexpressible...

Never say with half hushed breath do not love me more
For quiet beat of heart undone should take of death.
And yet my counting house is full,replete in store
No monkey hangs in circus saying, too close, you'll get

Fingers charred through the hoolahoop of saddened love
Or chapped whiplash the ringmaster would wish it. You'll get
Love unabounded through tranquil grace, assistance to live
In the strong coil of holding believing. Faith all unseen begets
The quiet culmination of his return after days hence from me
Love comes again after the tyranny imposed of poetry.

But why then write of the soul that hangs on me sweet to know
Perhaps only writing reconnects us to that divine afterglow

Written by a friend and illustrated by me.

Let us go then you and I
Through the muddy path we have created,
Through the cyclic uncertainty of who we are
Let us go

You understand that all roads clammer
All loves fail that are not loves
All whispers hoarsen that tenderness knows not of
You understand oh my love!

I shall once again place myself next to you
And after, feel the ripeness of your cheek against mine
And two apples in great fruit there
Lovely again after this shock wave of time

So we will go to destiny or to hell
And not disparage not seek the acrid grape
Better wine comes than the bitter
Wait,here's my song. Come love,let us go.

Rain in Glasgow

Why don't you be more gallus?
the old man said as he turned from his brolley
and wondered why his bus had decided to
play truant

I looked at him and said:
age is a funny thing,makes you reflective,sweets
come together.

so we laughed and exchanged tickets and I knew
I should trust his smile,
be more courageous.
I wonder have I met with a boddhisatva in the rain
or just collided?

Quandary Revisited
(For Jimmy)

Endure my heart endure!
Love you less I cannot
Since the heart has no cure
And the mind says this cannot...

For sense should prevail
Against all winds that blow
No ending such has this tale
Heart is, oh is,still everso!

Blow a thousand times oh gusts
they drift,decline,separate!
Heart that took me beyond marked lusts
oh heart have I seen too late?

Endure my heart endure
The storm comes, but too at last
All that is blessed safe,serene,sure
When we meet at last.

Cups aligned. Drifting. There was this shoe. Broadcast from bug powder radio. Eyes of Seraphim. Half quivering, he fell, and each witnessed contravention of the Notice was deemed a seperate offense. Whither the invisible birds? It would be good to raise some money. Lingerie boutique. Time is not linear. She moves. Like smoke.Her name was Maacah. Blind. Anorexic. We hate you (little girls). First cuts in the financial sector - deep cuts. Blood. First cunt is indeed a pest. Your sweetness is my weakness. Within four days. The liar. Lyre, lyre. Were you there when Orpheus fell? How do you know, are there pictures? Can we choose? Films for understanding. Icing for joy. As our father, tortoise. Moving slowly. Do you want fries with that? The Janus Effect. Humility is the only way to resolve the contradictions of leadership. Another rat. The firebolt. Endemic British race of the northern European Willow Grouse. recorded in Munich. 1983. Sweden’s Carlova wore a brown double breasted sleeveless jacket over a sparkling white shirt and mauve leggings. Buy. Rent. Hype. Sometimes I felt lovely. It’s reasonable to suggest that any image will move if you look at it for long enough. Is it cold in her? Optimum. Optima. Didot. Recycled. The Beagle has stashed the herion in a lottery ticket. Fire. Burn various types of plastic in the projector. The whole family has evolved. We are spirits, in the material world.Fluid = action. Sound = reaction. There is a fundamental difference. Light. Credo, in unum Deum. Watershed. Watership. Up, sighed. Down.You will note from the above that Latin, unlike modern English, does not have a silent “e” as the final syllable of any word.

July 10: Clerihew Day (unofficial).

The birthday of Edmund Clerihew Bentley (1875-1956), inventor of the clerihew, has been designated "Clerihew Day" by the man's many followers. The clerihew, a wholly frivolous poetic form, is a four-line verse adhering to the rhyme scheme AABB. The first line consists of a personal name, while those that follow traditionally are, or purport to be, biographical in nature. Little, if any, attention is paid to meter.

I thought I'd join in the spirit of the occasion:

La_spice is my name
Poetry is my game
But that’s not all that I do
I take photographs too!

or

Nelson Mandella
A very fine fella
Although he’s retired
The world he’s inspired

Go on - I know you're itching to write one!

They do seem to be popular so here goes!

This writing challenge (should you choose to accept it!) is a poetry challenge.

WRITE AN ACROSTIC POEM

"What is an acrostic poem?" you might ask.

Go on - have a go - it's just for fun!

Tickets to London.
Trains and escalators down long glass corridors,
Looking over her shoulder, smiling.
Slowly filling with raindrops - the phone,
Pressing the buttons that won't press - the phone.
Nothing works and then she's alone.

Escalators melting into stairs.
Trains melting into horses and carriages.
She's evolving and is seated in the back of the black cab.
London views melting into grimey seaside cheapness.

An unwelcome friend has influenced her, the one who was smiling.
Unsmilingly, they leave the black cab and leave her alone.
Naked and alone.
Perched high on the elevated back seat for all to see.

Solitude is shattered as the large, rough men climb in.
All they want is to know that the fight will happen.
'Will the fight happen?'
'Will it?'
'Where?'

Murmuring her assent,
They dissolve away.

She looks down upon the greenery of lawns and gardens and fenced domesticity from her soaring view.
She swoops as she flies.
She floats, fluttering butterflies

Inside her.
Searching and wanting
And not seeing the sky.
The earth is all below
Upon which she never lands.

Hey...ok this is what I wrote last night, I posted a short version for a competition, and also on my own blog, and La_Spice has encouraged me to post here...which scares me as there's more people here

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The rain was falling down hard, the bus stop was cramped...looking at my watch I realised I would be late, "Damn!" I thought, as I clutched the black leather briefcase to my chest...remembering lightly running my fingers over the contents, feeling the smoothness, the contours and watching it glisten in the new daylight...That was the perk to my new found life and job. My car had broken down again, I had one chance today and I couldn't wait another month.

Finally the number 48 is here, we all jostled to get on, the rowdy schoolkids were on again, I find a seat and tap my briefcase, smirking to myself, and contemplating using the contents on the little shits. The world around me is busy and loud, yet I feel a sense of calmness, like a sunset on the beach..this always happens when I'm focused on the task ahead. A timid girl comes and sits next to me, she smiles and it's the smile I've seen before, the one where you keep your head down, don't make eye contact, in hopes no one notices you...but the problem is certain people do...those are the ones my job deals with.

The bell rings and the girl gets up, instinctively knowing I have to get passed. The rain is beating down hard, as I step off, I look and see I'm back in the place I've been before. My job mostly entails nightwork, but this job was a special case, it couldn't be done any other time. I walk up to the familiar pathway, and walk around to the backdoor, I feel under the plantpot, ahh i think to myself, there as always. I quietly unlock the door, my breathing heavier, although still controlled. I remember where all the creaks where, but there's no sound he will hear. I smell the scent I've breathed in a thousand times before, before when I was naive...when everything he said I believed. I remember the times he'd buy my favourite chocolate, and I would sit wide eyed as he doted on me the most. Then things changed, I changed too...no longer naive to him.

No one listened or heard what I had to say, so instead i opted for a new life, I wasn't missed, and even now when I attempt a visit to my famil