Metaphor Poem

My family is the objects in a forest
Trying to live as the world around it crumbles

My mother is the dead tree
It hasn’t fallen over
It still stands tall
But it’s too easy for the gale to take it down
And be left for the fungi to feed on and take over

My sisters are the cute rabid animals
That you just want to pick up and take home
Only to find out that when your sitting at home
Googling why your new illegal pet is trying to claw your eyes out
It says in the margin CAUTION: CUTE BUT DEADLY

My grandma is a bird
That when your walking through the area
Wandering on thoughts and dreams
She is always there
Cawing up a storm that snaps you out of the moment
Making you want to somehow and someway
Gain the ability to shoot an arrow like Katniss Everdeen

My grandpa is that one patch of grass
Always being stepped on
But is always the one to help
That one hungry animal
Who hasn’t seen a patch of grass in weeks

Me, I’m that one flower
That has colors that don’t show
Whose been told to be something
But has other plans that want to take root
And can’t talk to the other living things in the forest
For fear of being eaten or crushed

This is us
All hoping to live in harmony
And living in fear
That suburban expansion might catch up too quickly
And bulldoze us down
To nothing

Where I'm From Poem

I’m from two different people
Though one I’ve never seen
A broken family tree
Where its insides scream “Fix Me”

I’m from the sunshine song
That my nana would always sing
Where later on if life
The melody meant divorce

I’m from the adventures of Pooh
And the Hundred Acre Woods
And that one fateful day
When I tore his head apart

I’m from the days with mom
And the days with the stepdad
From the days with my grandparents
Which I remain in the present

I’m from an Italian family
The smell is in my home
From the days of being blonde
Which is starting to turn brown

I’m from the red roses
That has been long since dug up
I’m from the day of innocence
That is starting to corrupt

I’m from the YMCA
Where I’ve spent all my summers
From the days of boys
And the plague of the cooties

I’m from all the lies
Of telling me “I Love You”
From all the plaguing nightmares
Where haunting me is their duty

I’m from the days with friends
That have changed for the worst
I’m from the feeling of unfairness
With a little hatred mixed in

I’m from all the love
From the one person that matters
The feeling of uncertainty
That its too good to be true

These are the memories
Whether I cherish or hate
This is the path
That I’ll walk with to the gate

Cool Website for Those Who Want to Get Better About Free-Think Writing

Hey guys!
  This is a cool website and it kind of reminds me of what we did in our writing club. It gives you one word and you have 60 seconds to write about it (if you need to, take longer). It is also good for those who have run out of idea of what to write about.

 Try it!
http://oneword.com/

Hope you like it!
   ~Paloma

Wonderful News!

Hey y'all!

   So I know I haven't been keeping up with this website but good news is I'm going on vacation tomorrow and I'm getting up super-duper extra early so I'll have time to think about new topics for writing and maybe finish them by the time the vacation ends. And if you follow my newest blog "Someone Like You" I'll be hopefully getting some great photos as well!

Keep Watching!
   ~Paloma

London

   April 4, 1978. 2:42 a.m. on the dot. I stand on the street corner of First and Armistad. "Where are they?!" I say to myself, huffing and puffing my cigarette like some fire-breathing dragon. There are two reasons why I'm angered by this. One, I did not dress for the elements, unless you call a pair of khaki shorts, black tank top, and flip flops in 40 degree weather appropriate. And two, the longer I hold this suspicious-looking brown sack in my arms, the more susceptible I am to losing my head.
   Literally.
  In the distance, I hear a faint crack of a whip, the laugh of a cold-hearten man, the screams of the children running to the "comfort" of their homes. "Here we go," I lightly put in a hushed tone. I walk out of the cover of night and stand in the light of day, confronting the fiend. He ceases his stride and glares at me, his pupils taking in all light like a hawk surveying his next prey.
"Mara, is that you?" he finally asks.
"Finally...-yes it's me," I reply.
"What do you want?"
"I've come to give you something."
   He stares in disbelief for a second. "No way she got it," he thinks. "It's so hard to come by."
"Bring it here, Mara, and do it now."
I defiantly step away from him, smirking with all my pride. "Over my dead body." I briskly say, then I take off in the opposite direction, laughing maniacally.
He watches me disappear off into the distance. But he, too, has a smirk on his face. Taking out his walkie-talkie, he adds "Have it your way, wicked young soul, but you just wait and see how the dark streets of London treat you."


                                                                                                                                     ~Paloma

Ship of Mystery

The cold ocean breeze mists my face as I return from a long day at work. It's a calm, peaceful evening on the South Carolina coast. Very typical I must say; Ocean to my port side and the sandy beach on the starboard. However, something seemed ever-so contrary, and I couldn't put my finger on it. I checked my surroundings: Seagulls flying around the unending sea, Check. Broken seashells all scattered about the chestnut sand, Check. The old remains of the days previous sandcastle construction sites made by imaginations, Check. And, of course, the gray ship streaking the horiz- wait a minute. I stop, dead in my tracks, and spin around so fast that I almost lose my balance.

To Be Continued
~Paloma

Great Website!

Hello! I found a great website that gives a great outlook on writing. Check it out!
 25 Insights on Becoming a Better Writer
 http://the99percent.com/tips/7082/25-Insights-on-Becoming-a-Better-Writer



                                                                                                                       ~HDM