#findthewriters

[4sss]

She taught me to love a little more, but carry a little less. Brought my heart a little peace. My soul a little rest.

J.c.A

#excerpt from a story i'll never write #excerpt from a book i'll never write #writerscreed #illustrans #poetryportal #poetryriot #re bumbleblossoms #twcpoetry #abstractcommunity #24hoursopen #findthewriters #bitsofstarglow #songoftheclouds #wnq poetry #poetryporn #poeticstories #twcpoem #blotchedpoetry #spilledthoughtsandpictures #inkedpoetry #inked thoughts #writeblr #new poets corner #poets corner #new poets society #thecultivatedfool #late night thoughts #brokensoulsreborn #writtenconsiderations #4sss

[mylifeinadiary]

Is it easier - By BS Cathcart

it’s times like this I begin to wander

around the garden too and yonder

if maybe somewhere inside my heart

is a empty stone and lowly cart

just when will it not be empty

when will she overflow plenty

like a cat with a ball of yarn

i feel flogged, left in a barn

slowly I slip, low, death

wondering if I’ll catch a breath

in the end we all choke

from sadness, disease, we’re all broke

and honestly I’m over it, let’s move on

to maybe a new place? Come on

could we discover a silent temple

that holds my heart, hands resemble

id like that allot, a comforting hand

something to rest, cold sand

under toes and soles alike

sometimes stones brightly strike

eyes glimmer in beauty, relief

as maybe there’s a smile, brief

but it’s all a scale, balance, fear

is it easier with someone near?

#poetry #deep #self love #love #findthewriters #spilled words #spilled ink #spilled thoughts #writing #writers on tumblr

[heiiwa]

It is when you’re soft you’re strong. A brick breaks. A ball bounce.

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[darkestqueen13]

The Monster in Me

I do not want to live my life like this anymore in fear of my own child, it's just fucking ridiculous but I have no idea of what to do about it. I don't know how to help him, I don't know what to do for him or for myself anymore I'm pretty sure I should just end life for both of us. It would probably be so much better that way not just got him and I but the entire world would be a better place without either one of us monsters on this planet you know. I look at him and I see myself, even when he is throwing a fucking fit, I see myself. Who is the real monster here him or me the creator of him?

#findthewriters #spilled poetry #life coaching #Scitzophrenia

[amarantine-amirite]

Susan Gets An F

For most people, the taste left in your mouth after a dentist's appointment doesn't represent anything other than you just had dental work done. For Susan Creel, it represented failure, trauma, and losses incurred by parental disgust.

It started when the cab driver had to take a detour because the city closed Pembroke Boulevard so the local elementary school could have their track meet that day. The detour took them down Euclid Avenue, a road known for its speed bumps. The cab driver, a fat guy from Rangoon named Don, didn't slow down for the speed bumps.

The cab hit a bump at speed. It caught some air and came back down with a thud. Susan felt her tooth crack. "Uh oh," she gasped quietly.

Don looked over his shoulder. "What is it?" he asked.

Susan tried to fidget the tooth fragment back into place, but with no luck. "I think I cracked a tooth."

They pulled into the closest dentist's office they could find, rather than figure out how to get to Susan's usual dentist. Susan went inside. "Hi there," the receptionist said.

"Hi, I cracked my tooth and need to get it fixed," Susan responded.

"Well, you've come to the right place," the receptionist chuckled, "can I get your name?"

"Susan Creel"

"OK, Susan, Dr. Swanson's 9:00 canceled at the last minute, so he'll see you in five."

Susan breathed a sigh of relief. "OK, thank you so much! Can you call my school and tell them that I'm going to be late because I had a dental emergency?"

"Sure," the receptionist nodded.

Susan went and took a seat in the waiting area. She pulled out her phone and texted her mother, Meg, might be late for school, cracked a tooth, at the dentist now, luv u.

Five minutes later, The receptionist called Susan's name. Susan went into Dr. Swanson's office. "Hey there, Susie," he greeted.

Susan grimaced, "Please don't call me that". She sat down on the exam chair.

"OK, so how's everything?"

Susan nodded, "I had to take a cab to school and we hit a speed bump and I broke my tooth."

Dr. Swanson winced. "Ooh, that's no fun." He passed Susan a pair of sunglasses for her to put on and he turned on the overhead light. "Let's have a look."

Dr. Swanson looked in Susan's mouth. He did the X-Rays. "Holy cow," he replied

"What is it?" Susan asked.

Things were worse than they looked. "Well, I think that cracked tooth is the least of your worries," he said, "you're going to need 11 large, deep fillings, four root canals, and your top pre-molars pulled out."

Hearing this caught her by surprise. If her teeth were in that bad shape, she would've felt a ton of pain in the affected teeth, and she had no memory of feeling anything. "Wouldn't you feel it if all that was wrong?" she asked

"Well, either you were in pain for long enough that her brain tuned it out as background noise, or the nerves in your teeth were damaged or disconnected. Either way, not good." dr. Swanson left the exam room to get some more supplies. It looked like it was going to be a big job. "Hang tight, I'm going to get Dr. Larry to help me with this, because we will need to get some bridges set up."

Dr. Swanson I've been out of the room for ten minutes. Susan couldn't help but overhear Dr. Swanson say, "I think we're out of Lidocaine."

Susan couldn't believe what she just heard. "You gotta be kidding me," she mumbled as Dr. Swanson came in.

"No, unfortunately, " Swanson replied, "but don't worry about not having the numbing agent, you'll have the calculus test to distract you"

In one sentence, Susan's day went from bad to worse. "What?"

"When Janice called your school, they told us that you can't be excused from class."

"Are you serious?"

Dr. Swanson passed her a clipboard and a large manila envelope containing the test. "Because this was an emergency visit, not an appointment scheduled ahead of time, you'll still have to write your test while we do the work."

Swanson started drilling; Susan cracked open the envelope to take a look at the test. It had three questions. The first two were relatively straightforward integral questions, the last one had five parts and had nothing to do with calculus.

Susan didn't seem to notice any of the pain that usually comes with doing multiple fillings and root canals without a local anesthetic. She was too distracted by parts B and C of that test question:

Part B: collect the terms a^5+b^5 into a term c^5, demonstrate that c is NOT an integer (hint: refer to the exponent)

Part C: describe why the above is true for all integers x>2

If her mouth wasn't propped open so Dr. Swanson could suck the infected pulp out of her molars, Susan's jaw would have dropped. Parts B and C effectively asked you to prove Fermat's last theorem. High schoolers wouldn't have even heard of Fermat's last theorem, much less understand why such a simple statement has such a complicated proof. Susan herself had only heard of it from an episode of Star Trek where someone complained that even in the future, it had yet to be proven. All she could fill out on parts B and C of the test was Fermat's unsolved equation from Star Wars. She didn't care as to whether or not that was the answer her teacher was looking for.

Even without being asked to prove Fermat's last theorem, it took Susan longer than she expected to do the test, and way longer than the time the rest of the class had. She finished the test about 15 minutes before Swanson wrapped up those last two fillings. She signaled to Swanson that she finished the test. He took it with him as he left the room.

Dr. Larry arrived. He set up Susan's bridges. As he began the procedure to prep her teeth to accept the crowns on either side, Susan could hear her mother talking to the receptionist. She didn't pay too much attention until she heard her name. "Yeah, I know, it's a lot," said the receptionist, "Susan's going to want to go home after this. Something this bad requires multiple appointments to complete, and we managed to get it all done in a day."

"No, she needs to go back to school," Susan heard her mother demand, "They're giving me grief that she didn't show up today, and I had to spend a lot of time on the phone explaining my ass to everybody. Besides, she was supposed to write that test today."

"Don't worry about the test, Meg. We ran out of Lidocaine, so we had her write the test while Dr. Todd did the root canals. I've got it right here, and we'll mail it to the school later today."

Susan's heart dropped when she heard her mother say, "Well, regardless, Susan needs to learn a lesson from all this." She thought the worst was over, now she had to contend with her mom being pissed with her.

Once all the work was done, Susan entered the lobby. Her mother came to take her home. Once they got in the car, Meg read her daughter the Riot Act. "7000 dollars. $7000 that's now in your mouth because of one careless mistake after another." she huffed, "Do you not realize that my insurance doesn't even cover this!? That's money I'm not going to see again. It's all wasted."

Susan could taste chemicals, pain, and metals in her mouth. "Mom, it can't be a waste, because my mouth's all better," she replied. In her mind, the money wasn't wasted as it corrected a problem that had likely been brewing for a long time. Teeth don't get so bad that they literally fall apart overnight.

But Meg wasn't having any of it. "You don't understand, Susan. This shouldn't have ever happened."

Susan rolled her eyes and scoffed. "Why am I in trouble for something that isn't my fault?"

"This is 100% your fault, Susan!"

They spent the rest of the car ride in silence. Susan thought about changing the subject, but the only other thing that happened was her calculus test. She felt it would be a miracle if she passed, partly because the test went beyond the material covered in the review questions, but mostly because it's distracting as hell to try to prove Fermat's last theorem when you've got somebody poking your mouth with metal tools.

They got home. It clouded over and began to rain as they pulled into the driveway. "I don't want this happening again, Susan." Meg scolded as she exited the car.

Susan got out of the car and closed the door. She made her way up the front steps. "I don't think it will, bridges don't get cavities."

"I don't care," Meg said as she fished around for the house keys. "When your father comes home, you will tell him that you're going to be on a liquid diet until you can pay back the money for the dental repairs."

Susan stopped to look at her mother. She tipped her head to one side. "That doesn't include interest, does it?" she asked.

"Oh, it most certainly does!" Meg barked.

The two of them entered the house in a sullen mood. Susan had no idea how she was going to stick to a liquid diet for what could be a very long time. At least it would have washed out the taste of $7000 worth of dental work.

@headspace-hotel

#writers #inkstay #writing #findthewriters #writers on tumblr #short fiction #short story #sensory prompts

[daytim-e]

Dead on Arrival

Rehearsed incantations drip from your tongue,

oozing out bland and colorless.

Cookie cutter catchphrases,

that inspire like a funeral.

Words that are dead on arrival.

#twcpoetry #poetselixir #writerscreed #atlasconsiderations #poetryportal #poetryclub13 #writtenconsiderations #poets on tumblr #poetry #writers on tumblr #poetscommunity #findthewriters #poetryelixir #poetscreed #spilled ink

[ginadope]

lightbeams

From grief springs hope In its bloodless but awkward art It might shatter Or it might thrive The only conviction shows That there is a storm And all the rage Might follow the moment on stage; Angel, why not put it to a Loving rest?

#poem #poetry #kittens! #twcpoetry #my writing #writeblr #inkstay #writeundertheinfluence #poetryrise #poetryportal #poetryriot #writerscommunity #poeticstories #recognizingthevoiceless #smittenbypoetry #writtenconsiderations #new #poetry on tumblr #writerscreed #findthewriters #writerscorner #caffeinated capi reblogs #poetselixir #poetswhisper #poetscommunity #I just broke a shelf #how

[ewritespoems]

i have watched you make paint from flowers

i have seen you 

crush

the petals between your hands 

until they bleed purple and blue 

staining your fingerprints 

i have asked how you could damage something so

delicate

and you have replied that you are an artist 

you destroy 

to create 

you have 

crushed 

me 

many times 

in the name of your passion 

your anger

your love 

your 

art 

but even when i turn my back on you 

spring sprouts up my spine

a row of bluebells, heads bowed to 

beg for your forgiveness 

pleading 

to once again be 

crushed 

#twcpoetry #poetryportal #inkstay #writerscreed #findthewriters #blotchedpoems #poeticstories #smittenbypoetry #13cupsofteareblog #inkstainsandheartbeats #savage-words #deadpoetsnet #poem #poetry #poets on tumblr #poets of tumblr #poetselixir #my poem #My words #My writing #writers of tumblr #writers on tumblr #spilled ink #spilled thoughts #spilled words #spilled poetry #excerpt from a book I'll never write #my art #Poems #poet

[mesmerizing-words]

Astonishing right ?!.. You wake up one fine day to realise that you are no longer the person you were before and it feels good.

~growth

#24hoursopen #deepthoughts #blotched words #excerpt from a book i'll never write #picture quotes #savage words #spilled writing #writercorner #excerpt from a story i'll never write #writers on tumblr #poeticstories #poetryclub13 #poetryportal #poetryriot #wnq writers #wnq poetry #wnq #findthewriters #twcopen #writtenconsiderations #atlasconsiderations #13cupsofteareblog #illustrans

[melancholywonderland]

Lolitated

My flora is trapped Betwixt Chimerean limbs; By this dangerman In my built-in four-poster. Teaseticular art Right there on the bedspread; Eagle-spread, My legs are Red-sea-parted. Damaskuline, these sheets; And there are herculean sins Occurring meanderneath. Music is moanotone And Oeditory hymns burst From trident tongues, Victrollated and damnified. We speak in myth-dated Greek, Your lips annotating The tragedies from mine. Minotaurian fury, Let them till my earth like rainfire. Let the trebuchet rocks Catapult my castle-gates. Gluttony at its finest. Beastitudes at their most dire. Infringe the sea, my Argonaught. Let my eyes flair beyond the sky. Satyrate me with your lyre. The nymphony we shall perfect. This drunken night we shall spend Inthrusticated, And you shall sleep inside. Vaginally.

#poetry #poem #poetryriot #abstractcommunity #twc #twcpoetry #writers on tumblr #writerscreed #findthewriters #recognizingthevoiceless #spilledink #spilledinkpoetry #savagewords #poetscreed

[hellholeglory]

and it is Sunday morning, and you are still sleeping, and I am thinking about how the spine in my favorite book is cracked, and how it can never be uncracked. It is not an important thought, it doesn’t mean much, but it lingers. By some creeping twist of fate, we are now grown up. Who’s to say if we are done, but at least we have arrived somewhere, three months apart. Isn’t that funny, how you can’t seem to get rid of me? We only took things that mattered up the stairs, one by one. Beds, shoes, books with cracked spines. Something to keep me company, something to leave behind. I want attention, and you want a body. It is a fair enough exchange. These things we have learned how to give. The spine is cracked. Some nights I wonder if you would crawl inside my veins if I asked, to sleep in my blood and see if maybe then I could feel what I was afraid of. But then, we both know the one thing I could never do is ask. I don't stop touching you until I fall asleep, fingernails trailing your back and remembering the scar on your shoulder, remembering the night my heart broke with you, remembering that this is borrowed time. Crack. Apparently, if you have a lump in your throat, you can just swallow it, cram it back down your windpipe, like you were never a child, like you will never be one. and it is Sunday morning, and my finger traces the crack of your spine, right down the middle.

cracked spines

#this just made me ugly cry so here you are #time ran out btw if you were wondering #jk its not that deep #writing #prose #writersontumblr #findthewriters #poets on tumblr #mine #hellholeglory

[4sss]

Holding her hand. A feeling so high. A warmth that grows. Like Icarus. Even in the end, her touch was worth the fall.

J.c.A

#excerpt from a story i'll never write #excerpt from a book i'll never write #writerscreed #illustrans #24hoursopen #findthewriters #re bumbleblossoms #inkedpoetry #inkstay #spilledthoughtsandpictures #poets corner #poetryportal #wnq poetry #dead poets society #poetryporn #poetryriot #writers on tumblr #blotchedpoetry #twcpoetry #wnq writers #4am thoughts #pieces of my heart #poemas de amor #thecultivatedfool #inked thoughts #bitsofstarglow #songoftheclouds #writtenconsiderations #brokensoulsreborn #4sss

[flowingpoetry]

“All the things I could’ve been, but i never had the nerve. Life and love I don’t deserve.”

-Pierre, The Great Comet of 1812

#poetry #spilled thoughts #spilled ink #writers on tumblr #poems on tumblr #poets on tumblr #quotes #poetryriot #poetryportal #writerscorner #the great comet #musicals #musical theatre #dailyquotes #new poets society #findthewriters #books and libraries #love quotes #flowingpoetry

[heiiwa]

Lonely spree

Lately, I’ve been living through anything..

but me

The people I see

In which I wish to be

The moments I yearn

In which I everyday just

Settle to observe

To experience - life.

To be reminded of - death

All misery and no love

is what makes Jack a dull boy

The loneliest touch - by myself

gives no sincere joy

I thought I could be..

That I only

- needed me

But in time

I realized

That true love’d - set me free

Anon

#loneliness #poetryportal #writerscreed #abstractcommunity #spilled ink #poetry #love #writers on tumblr #findthewriters #relivingredemption #spilled thoughts #depresso

[darkestqueen13]

"Be who you are, and say what you feel. Because those that mind don't matter, and those that matter do not mind."

-Dr. Seuss

In MY world this, one of my personal favorites from Dr. Seuss, is the statement that allows me to be filterless quilt free. Just saying.

#Dr. Seuss #spilled poetry #findthewriters #life coaching #relationship #forward motion #just saying

[amarantine-amirite]

Out of Words, Out of Songs, Out of Ideas

I got a real surprise today when I got the recording studio at my school.

No lie, when I first saw it, I actually said, "What the fuck?!" I was just lucky that there weren't any teachers around, otherwise I would've heard, "Language, Camille" and have to drop 25 cents in the swear jar.

I shouldn't have worried about a teacher overhearing me. I should've been worried about Zoe overhearing me.

I never got along with Zoe. Zoe is one of those people who refuses to take responsibility, gives pathetic excuses, and either ignores consequences or downplays them. Worse, she talks down to you like you're stupid. "Noticed the piano, huh?" she said.

I nodded quickly. "Why the hell are all the keys the same color?"

Zoe did the thing where she talked down to me like I was stupid. "The school district was worried that people would think the regular piano keys are racist, so they painted them to match the wood casing."

I couldn't believe what she said. In the name of racial harmony, they painted all the keys of the piano the same color. If it didn't actually happen, I would have thought it was a joke.

I should never put it past the school to do something like this. I remember we had twins in my fourth-grade class named Benjamin and Daniel. They went by Ben and Dan. We also had a Chinese kid in our class (James) that had a learning disability. Alphabetically, he came right before Ben and Dan.

I didn't play with Ben, Dan, or James that often. I only really remember their names because of this one thing that happened.

One day, when the teacher was taking attendance, he called James's name, but James didn't hear him. Frustratedly, he moved on to the next two people, Ben and Dan. He said, "Ben, Dan"

"Ben, Dan" sounds like the Chinese phrase for "idiot". When James heard the teacher say this, he ran out of the classroom in tears.

They had to put Ben and Dan in separate classes over this. I don't know what happened to them after that. All I do know is that people are far more willing to bend over backward to avoid stepping on toes than you think. "Do they not have a little voice in their head that says this might be a bad idea?" I squealed.

Zoe shook her head. "I understand that you're upset. I get that. Things are a little messy right now. But sometimes, things have to look a little worse before they look amazing," she said in her trademark condescending tone.

I need my visual signposts. Making all the keys on the piano the same color just takes them away. And I'm far from the only person that thinks that. The reason pianos have different colored keys so the person playing them can tell the difference between the natural and semitone pitches. "Zoe, this isn't a little messy;" I said way louder than I should have, "this piano is now unusable."

Dorothy walked in. "What's all the hubbub?" she asked.

I pointed to the piano. "The school thinks it can combat racism by painting the keys on the piano the same color." All they've managed to combat is the musician's ability to consistently play the right notes.

Dororthy looked at the piano. She looked at me. She looked at the piano again, and then she looked back at me. "You know, Camille" she said, "You can't come down from a high you were never on."

I nodded, even though I had no idea what that was supposed to mean. Sometimes, people say something insightful. Other times, it sounds insightful, but it falls apart the minute you try and parse it. "You can't come down from a high you were never on" falls into the latter.

I guess it could mean that you could never come back to reality if you never left reality in the first place, but I'm not fully sure. The more I think about it, the more I realize that it's one of those phrases that sounds deep and meaningful, but when you really look at it, it's just painfully confusing. "I get that, Dorothy, but can you explain to me what that's supposed to mean?"

I think she tried to say, "for everything, there is a season. There is a time for everything, and now is not the time for that." Basically, she tried to respond to a thought terminating cliché with another thought terminating cliché. But try as she might, she just could not get the words out. She wound up saying, "For everything, there is a season, a season is time of growth"

That sentence made so little sense that I burst out laughing. "Excuse me, what? Care to explain what this is supposed to mean, because I think I just had an aneurysm trying to decipher this."

Dorothy repeated what she said. "Everything has seasoning, but if you special the time, it is a growth."

"You're not making any sense"

By now, she started to get frustrated. "I said, for every season, a season is time of growth."

"That made even less sense than before," I said. I wanted to say "I've listened to drunk people who were far more coherent than that," but kept it shut. And for good reason. When she tried to speak again, nothing came out. No sound. Radio silence.

All of a sudden, it hit me. She wasn't dodging the question or being evasive or anything like that. She was actually having a stroke!

It spooked me. One minute, somebody's brain works fine. The next, it just comes to a grinding halt.

It could have been much worse. Even though she couldn't talk, at least her face wasn't drooping. Now was still a good time to call an ambulance, as time wasted is brain wasted.

I called 911, and they put me on hold. The hold music was "Staying Alive" by the Bee Gees. In the time I was on hold, Dorothy downed an entire bottle of water and began frantically signing to anyone who was watching. This might sound weird, but I felt a huge wave of relief watching her sign. She signed with both arms, the ASL equivalent to speaking with both sides of your mouth. Zoe looked at her and said, "I'm sorry, I don't speak Helen Keller." Dorothy got all pissed off, gave Zoe the finger, and stormed off to that corner of the room with the bead curtains.

Once I finally got off hold, 911 put me through to this guy whose last job was probably working as a bellhop in a second-rate Torquay hotel. "Hello? Hello, 911. How are you today?"

"Uh," I responded, "my friend Dorothy is having a stroke, how do you think I am?"

He blinked in confusion hard enough that I could feel it on the other end of the phone. "¿Que?" he said.

Growing ever more frustrated, I repeated, "Dorothy is having a stroke!"

I thought he'd understand the second time. But no, he did not. "¿Que?" he said again after a long pause.

I grew frustrated. It was almost like he couldn't remember what his job was, let alone the nature of my emergency. "Dorothy. Stroke." I reiterated in an annoyed fashion.

"OK, I see," he replied. He seemed to finally understand what I had said. "You friend Dorothy having a stroke."

"Yes!" I said. Finally, we were getting somewhere.

Or so I thought. I couldn't believe the next words out of the guy's mouth. "We no have time for you wild goose chase"

"What?!" I said, completely taken aback.

"We no have time. We no believe you. Very, very sorry. Goodbye!"

I went behind the bead curtains and sat down across from Dorothy. "Well, that was a bust." I said.

"Why didn't you bring your guitar?" Dorothy signed.

"My amp still isn't working" I answered.

The amp broke in the first place because some moron plugged it into a car battery. If you plug a guitar amp into a car battery, it will explode. I took it to the repair shop to get it fixed. They said it was ready for pickup, but it was exactly the same as it was when I went to pick it up as it was when I brought it in.

"I thought you had it fixed."

"So did I." I showed Dorothy a picture of the amp before I took it in and after. She looked at it and laughed.

"So Dorothy," I asked, "what did you mean when you said you can't come down from a high you were never on?"

Dorothy nodded. Those were the last words she said before she had a stroke, and it seemed she couldn't hear them without crying. She steeled herself and signed, "It means that if you don't know what you're expecting, it doesn't make sense to get upset when your expectations aren't met."

Good, I thought, we're getting somewhere. That said, she still can't talk. "I might call 911 again" I said.

Dorothy nodded. "Yeah, I think that's a good idea."

The good news was, I didn't wind up on hold. The bad news was, I wound up dealing with Manuel The 911 Operator again. "Hello, 911, how are you, is nice day"

"OK, no" I said, "Not nice day. Dorothy can't talk."

"¿Que?"

"Dorothy have stroke. Now, Dorothy no talk."

Not only did he recognize me from before, he still didn't believe me. "Oh, it's you," he said in a very annoyed tone, "We no believe you. How many times? Where are you ears, you great, big, halfwit?? We no have time, listen?"

For a brief moment, the line went dead. The operator picked up again. "Now you understand! So bye bye, please, bye bye." Nice. Then they hung up on me again.

I came here to record a song. Not only did that not get done, I had to fend off political correctness gone mad, deal with a 911 operator who knows nothing, and witness a close acquaintance lose her voice because part of her brain stopped working.

I can't believe I snuck out of geography class for this.

@leopard-prompts

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