These are like two separate pieces because they don't really fit together...
The pain of rejection is a cold burgundy, like the heavy brick wall that detains me. The pain of a loss is a dark chestnut, resembling the wooden door that wears a lock, separating my world from yours. The pain of misunderstanding is as pitch black as the darkness in which I reside. The pain of separation is royal blue, like the night sky that keeps us miles and miles apart. The pain of loneliness is the grainy sand of the island that isolates me here. The pain of regret is the sepia photographs depicting a better life. Pain is not only despair felt by the heart, but despair perceived by the entire being.
Happiness is the comforting taste of buttered popcorn while bundled up for family movie night. It's the mindless taste of cold, cheese pizza during deep 3 a.m.-slumber-party-talkfests. It's the refreshing sensation of a sugared ice pop while our toes dance carelessly on the water's surface. It's the heartwarming flavor of hot cocoa following hours of snowman construction and wind nipped noses. It's the sun-kissed sweetness of freshly picked Concord grapes after a day in the orchard. It's the bland taste of peanut butter sandwiches during picnics on the lake. Happiness is the memories we seek to remember. The things that are pleasantly familiar to us. The things that bring unending joy to our hearts.
Oh Mary. This is beautiful. In the pain part, try it without "The pain of" in front of each line. Rejection is a cold burgundy, like the heavy brick wall that detains me. Loss is a dark chestnut......I think then that the last line will deliver an amazing punch. What do you think? And your happy places are spectacular. Mindless taste of cold, cheese pizza is genius! Amazing job on this 30 Day Challenge Mary. Just amazing!
Mine are also two different peices: Argent Arsenic Ash Smoke and mirrors The masterful disguise The practiced expression We all adorn Cool Cadet Charcoal A metal sheet Firm to a fault Unwilling Don't let them in Slate Silver Smoke The cold realization Gentle as mist On funeral day In March Gray Gray hearts Gray skies In the twilight Of the pain In the darkness Of the night In the silence Of the sorrow Cold, lonely Lives
If I can catch snowflakes Help me catch the sun To feel it in my heart To taste it on my tongue Melting like my ice cream Splattered on the driveway With my chalk art Dust smeared across my hands As I listen to the radio My favorite song Laying in the soft grass While allergies make my arms itch While watermelon makes my fingers stick If I can catch snowflakes Help me catch the rain Drops that turn my window Into something captivating I need nothing else When I sip my tea Hot and bitter And watch the rain Cool and calming And hear the thunder On those rare days I'll hunt through the fridge Longing for cold pizza Or better yet, subway If I can catch snowflakes Help me catch the moon As it watches me savor My midnight snack A bit of dark chocolate A bite of leftovers So that a slow smile creeps Across my face
First four lines of the second peice I love more than anything ever. You need to stop hating poetry because you are far to wonderful at it for that. I adore that. I would kill to write something so beautiful
Talking about rain turning your windows into something captivating is just so memorable.
Also, is the subway an allusion to the piece Felicia wrote about her Dad eating her hoagie!
These are both just beautiful Ann. I like when you talk about snowflakes because I know how much you love them. Oh, and I LOVE a bit of leftovers. Thank you for your thirty days. You have really done a nice job!
Pain. Pain the irritation of ones body, mind a soul. Happiness. The joyous feeling of ones mind body and soul. Though, what happens when you wish to experience these, but have numbness all around you? Simple the feeling. What does one feel though? What does one's mind see?
The deep sensation of the burning, tearing, agonizing pain of the death defying torture of ones body. Childbirth for example, the agony the woman is put through during the time, yet still loves the child. Maybe pain is worth it. Maybe all pain is worth the agony. For me though: pain is represented in my mind as an apitaminy of darkness, a blackness pur say. The pain is not worth the reward to me, the blackness, the darkness that surrounds my soul. Pain is never worth the reward, some push through the pain, I only to destroy my body more.
I feel the warmth bubble inside my chest, the sensation one feels when truly joyous or happy to see some one, something, or even imagine. The deep sensation of love when you see someone so spectacular that your heart beats beyond its normal limits. The happiness is filled to the brink whenever the thought of moments of childhood bliss or the thought of being home with the one you truly adore. Closing my eyes I can feel the warmth, maybe that's why for me the color of pure happiness is the color is a fuchsia. The color of happiness is that brilliant pinkish tone that shows the warmth of the heartbeat and the bubbles that make me happy.
The color of pain is the red that aches in hearts as little ones die. Red the color of blood when the pain sets in. The taste of a new spice. The taste of what it's like to be happy. Knowing that your with the ones who love you.
Pain is unmistakeable. Consuming you with every touch Smell and thought.
You begin to change. Discoloration under your eyes As they droop From too much rain fall And one too many bricks Thrown at you.
It was delicious When things were alright, As good as they could get. Chocolate covered strawberries Illegal wine and his lips Mixed together seduced you To believe in something Otherworldly.
Happiness was easy Until one word set him off. Life would change The minute you screwed up.
So why didn't you listen? Why did you let it get this far? Didn't you love yourself? Didn't you love me? I loved you. I still do. But what does it matter anymore? The trigger had been pulled.
The sultry crimson of blood on the metallic razor And the deep lavender of a blossoming bruise Cannot be washed away by the warm tendrils of chicken noodle soup
And the fleshy pink of crying eyes And the gray slate of loneliness, interjected with the electric cries of anguish Can never be obliterated by the refreshing chill of an ice cream cone
Because if eyes are the windows to the soul What they see must surely leave a print upon the glass And all it takes is the slightest hint of sulfur upon one's lips To drown out the euphoric taste of happiness With agonizing visions of pain's dismal palette
There are no words. I can't believe you incorporated the two things so seamlessly! It's like one counters the other. But the second line in your last paragraph was just beautiful. I adore this. And the fact that you used the words palette, sulfur, tendrils, and described cries as electric. Okay yeah I loved the whole thing!
She’s been so beat up the last few years of her life. From going through abuse, torture, and self mutilation due to the verbal abuse from her father. Her emotions are detraining. Her father is a never ending alcoholic. Along with that he abuses drugs to the point that he ends up in the hospital practically every time he hurts himself. She has been through so much in her young 14 years of life. So much pain has been inflicted on her that she can practically taste the pain on the tip of her tongue. The pain is a deep black color that she pushes to the back of her mind, trying to forget all the regret and torture. Black as in a giant hole of depression that’s overcome her with sadness. The only taste she has ever known in her life was sadness. Sadness was the only thing that she would even have a chance to taste. She’s never tasted happiness. Although she wants to know the taste, the life she has been given won’t allow that. She’s going to end her life just the way it had started. Tortured by family and friends, self inflicted pain, and nothing but sadness and somber thoughts fill her unconfident skull.
A bright sunny day. It shouldn't have been beautiful, but it was. The sun was shining through the clear blue skies that fell all around. There shouldn't be sun at all, though. No crisp blue air, nothing. The world needed deep skies being crushed by chemical colored clouds. The world needed rain, thunder, and piercing lightning, destroying any chance of happiness. The world needed to mimic the depressing blue hue I felt. But the world didn't know pain, the world didn't know loss, and the world didn't know that the sun shone the color of pain.
(I remember when my Papa died I was so upset because it was so bright and nice out the next day and It made me so much more upset because it felt like the world was mocking me, that everyone else's day was better than mine. Obviously. Ha.)
These are my last couple of blogs in order from 27-30. My iPad would not post them so Danielle was nice enough to post them for me. Dakota Martell
Dear friend, We have been friends for a very long time, since first grade if I remember correctly. I have enjoyed your company and your friendship for this long while, however we have drifted a part. It is only natural that we would drift apart over this long period of time but I would like to remain friends. I can only hope that we can get back to what we were before we started to drift apart. I understand that you may be thinking that we still hang out and talk but it's not the same as it was and you probably feel it to. Sincerely, Dakota Martell
This blog is very near and dear to me because I have believed that this is true from a very young age. I am going to share some very personal information in this blog but it helps me to prove my point. When I was young, about eight years old, I had some very tragic things happen to me and before I get started I must say that my father was very good to me and that he was the best father I could have asked for when he was around. My father and my mother were never married which you will realize is good after I described what made me discover the fact that not all things happen for a reason. My father had owned a recycling center for several years across from the Angela Huey park in kersey on main street. It was a very successful business but as you may or may not know recycling centers bring around some rather scummy people. People such as thieves, druggies, and crooks. There were three different recycling centers in my family at the time and they were all the same way so this was definitely not a coincidence. The one major difference was that my father did not have the will power that he needed to resist the druggies temptations. He and my mother were already always engaged in heated screaming matches and were splitting up anyway and I feel that that fact alone pushed him over the edge. He began to do drugs and soon went to prison for about a year. He got out after that year and soon got back on drugs. He also started threatening suicide in the front yard with a firearm in hand. It took very little time for him to get thrown back in jail. This happened several more times. He is out of prison and doing very well now, but he has only been out for about six months. Remembering that I was only eight when all this started and having to see all of this at such a young age. How could this have happened for a reason. What kind of all powerful being would let this happen to a child.
The dust kicks up around me. The wind blows and sends dirt and sand everywhere. I lay on the ground, writhing in pain, as I wait for help. Tirelessly, I struggle to move as night falls. The dark red puss like blood seeps from the wound in my chest. The dark is closing in and it is getting cold as the night arrives. I am not religious, although now I begin to pray that help will soon arrive. I hear helicopters above but cannot see them. My vision begins to fade as death arrives. In my last moments I sigh a sound of pain then everything goes black. The taste of cinnamon toast and butter bring several fond memories to my mind. My great grandmother on my mothers side still to this day eats it everyday for breakfast and she will until the day she dies. It reminds me of all the good times I have spent with her every time I smell cinnamon.
Everybody has some sort of pain whether it's like injury pain or a different kind of pain. And everybody has happiness in there lives. Happiness should be in everybody's lives. The taste of happiness means that everyone should have some happiness in there lives. And the color of pain is usually red meaning pain. Every single person suffers from pain in some sort of way. Everyone deserves happiness in life. Color of pain is red the color of blood. Taste of happiness is smiling faces on peoples faces. The taste of happiness is the best thing to have!
These are like two separate pieces because they don't really fit together...
ReplyDeleteThe pain of rejection is a cold burgundy, like the heavy brick wall that detains me.
The pain of a loss is a dark chestnut, resembling the wooden door that wears a lock, separating my world from yours.
The pain of misunderstanding is as pitch black as the darkness in which I reside.
The pain of separation is royal blue, like the night sky that keeps us miles and miles apart.
The pain of loneliness is the grainy sand of the island that isolates me here.
The pain of regret is the sepia photographs depicting a better life.
Pain is not only despair felt by the heart, but despair perceived by the entire being.
Happiness is the comforting taste of buttered popcorn while bundled up for family movie night.
It's the mindless taste of cold, cheese pizza during deep 3 a.m.-slumber-party-talkfests.
It's the refreshing sensation of a sugared ice pop while our toes dance carelessly on the water's surface.
It's the heartwarming flavor of hot cocoa following hours of snowman construction and wind nipped noses.
It's the sun-kissed sweetness of freshly picked Concord grapes after a day in the orchard.
It's the bland taste of peanut butter sandwiches during picnics on the lake.
Happiness is the memories we seek to remember.
The things that are pleasantly familiar to us.
The things that bring unending joy to our hearts.
Oh Mary. This is beautiful. In the pain part, try it without "The pain of" in front of each line. Rejection is a cold burgundy, like the heavy brick wall that detains me. Loss is a dark chestnut......I think then that the last line will deliver an amazing punch. What do you think? And your happy places are spectacular. Mindless taste of cold, cheese pizza is genius! Amazing job on this 30 Day Challenge Mary. Just amazing!
DeleteMine are also two different peices:
ReplyDeleteArgent
Arsenic
Ash
Smoke and mirrors
The masterful disguise
The practiced expression
We all adorn
Cool
Cadet
Charcoal
A metal sheet
Firm to a fault
Unwilling
Don't let them in
Slate
Silver
Smoke
The cold realization
Gentle as mist
On funeral day
In March
Gray
Gray hearts
Gray skies
In the twilight
Of the pain
In the darkness
Of the night
In the silence
Of the sorrow
Cold, lonely
Lives
If I can catch snowflakes
Help me catch the sun
To feel it in my heart
To taste it on my tongue
Melting like my ice cream
Splattered on the driveway
With my chalk art
Dust smeared across my hands
As I listen to the radio
My favorite song
Laying in the soft grass
While allergies make my arms itch
While watermelon makes my fingers stick
If I can catch snowflakes
Help me catch the rain
Drops that turn my window
Into something captivating
I need nothing else
When I sip my tea
Hot and bitter
And watch the rain
Cool and calming
And hear the thunder
On those rare days
I'll hunt through the fridge
Longing for cold pizza
Or better yet, subway
If I can catch snowflakes
Help me catch the moon
As it watches me savor
My midnight snack
A bit of dark chocolate
A bite of leftovers
So that a slow smile creeps
Across my face
First four lines of the second peice I love more than anything ever. You need to stop hating poetry because you are far to wonderful at it for that. I adore that. I would kill to write something so beautiful
DeleteTalking about rain turning your windows into something captivating is just so memorable.
ReplyDeleteAlso, is the subway an allusion to the piece Felicia wrote about her Dad eating her hoagie!
These are both just beautiful Ann. I like when you talk about snowflakes because I know how much you love them. Oh, and I LOVE a bit of leftovers. Thank you for your thirty days. You have really done a nice job!
Pain. Pain the irritation of ones body, mind a soul. Happiness. The joyous feeling of ones mind body and soul. Though, what happens when you wish to experience these, but have numbness all around you? Simple the feeling. What does one feel though? What does one's mind see?
ReplyDeleteThe deep sensation of the burning, tearing, agonizing pain of the death defying torture of ones body. Childbirth for example, the agony the woman is put through during the time, yet still loves the child. Maybe pain is worth it. Maybe all pain is worth the agony. For me though: pain is represented in my mind as an apitaminy of darkness, a blackness pur say. The pain is not worth the reward to me, the blackness, the darkness that surrounds my soul. Pain is never worth the reward, some push through the pain, I only to destroy my body more.
I feel the warmth bubble inside my chest, the sensation one feels when truly joyous or happy to see some one, something, or even imagine. The deep sensation of love when you see someone so spectacular that your heart beats beyond its normal limits. The happiness is filled to the brink whenever the thought of moments of childhood bliss or the thought of being home with the one you truly adore. Closing my eyes I can feel the warmth, maybe that's why for me the color of pure happiness is the color is a fuchsia. The color of happiness is that brilliant pinkish tone that shows the warmth of the heartbeat and the bubbles that make me happy.
The color of pain is a whiter shade of pale. Haha! (Ann should totally get this)
ReplyDeleteThe taste of happiness is moose track ice cream smothered in chocolate, caramel, and peanut butter.
Enough said.
Noooooo! A whiter shade of pale is the color of all things tranquile and beautiful!! I still love that song
DeleteThe color of pain is the red that aches in hearts as little ones die.
ReplyDeleteRed the color of blood when the pain sets in.
The taste of a new spice.
The taste of what it's like to be happy.
Knowing that your with the ones who love you.
Pain is unmistakeable.
ReplyDeleteConsuming you with every touch
Smell and thought.
You begin to change.
Discoloration under your eyes
As they droop
From too much rain fall
And one too many bricks
Thrown at you.
It was delicious
When things were alright,
As good as they could get.
Chocolate covered strawberries
Illegal wine and his lips
Mixed together seduced you
To believe in something
Otherworldly.
Happiness was easy
Until one word set him off.
Life would change
The minute you screwed up.
So why didn't you listen?
Why did you let it get this far?
Didn't you love yourself?
Didn't you love me?
I loved you.
I still do.
But what does it matter anymore?
The trigger had been pulled.
The sultry crimson of blood on the metallic razor
ReplyDeleteAnd the deep lavender of a blossoming bruise
Cannot be washed away by the warm tendrils of chicken noodle soup
And the fleshy pink of crying eyes
And the gray slate of loneliness, interjected with the electric cries of anguish
Can never be obliterated by the refreshing chill of an ice cream cone
Because if eyes are the windows to the soul
What they see must surely leave a print upon the glass
And all it takes is the slightest hint of sulfur upon one's lips
To drown out the euphoric taste of happiness
With agonizing visions of pain's dismal palette
There are no words. I can't believe you incorporated the two things so seamlessly! It's like one counters the other. But the second line in your last paragraph was just beautiful. I adore this. And the fact that you used the words palette, sulfur, tendrils, and described cries as electric. Okay yeah I loved the whole thing!
DeleteShe’s been so beat up the last few years of her life. From going
ReplyDeletethrough abuse, torture, and self mutilation due to the verbal abuse from her
father. Her emotions are detraining. Her father is a never ending alcoholic.
Along with that he abuses drugs to the point that he ends up in the hospital practically
every time he hurts himself. She has been through so much in her young 14 years
of life. So much pain has been inflicted on her that she can practically taste
the pain on the tip of her tongue. The pain is a deep black color that she
pushes to the back of her mind, trying to forget all the regret and torture.
Black as in a giant hole of depression that’s overcome her with sadness. The
only taste she has ever known in her life was sadness. Sadness was the only
thing that she would even have a chance to taste. She’s never tasted happiness.
Although she wants to know the taste, the life she has been given won’t allow
that. She’s going to end her life just the way it had started. Tortured by
family and friends, self inflicted pain, and nothing but sadness and somber
thoughts fill her unconfident skull.
A bright sunny day.
ReplyDeleteIt shouldn't have been beautiful, but it was. The sun was shining through the clear blue skies that fell all around. There shouldn't be sun at all, though. No crisp blue air, nothing. The world needed deep skies being crushed by chemical colored clouds. The world needed rain, thunder, and piercing lightning, destroying any chance of happiness. The world needed to mimic the depressing blue hue I felt. But the world didn't know pain, the world didn't know loss, and the world didn't know that the sun shone the color of pain.
(I remember when my Papa died I was so upset because it was so bright and nice out the next day and It made me so much more upset because it felt like the world was mocking me, that everyone else's day was better than mine. Obviously. Ha.)
These are my last couple of blogs in order from 27-30. My iPad would not post them so Danielle was nice enough to post them for me. Dakota Martell
ReplyDeleteDear friend,
We have been friends for a very long time, since first grade if I remember correctly. I have enjoyed your company and your friendship for this long while, however we have drifted a part. It is only natural that we would drift apart over this long period of time but I would like to remain friends. I can only hope that we can get back to what we were before we started to drift apart. I understand that you may be thinking that we still hang out and talk but it's not the same as it was and you probably feel it to.
Sincerely,
Dakota Martell
This blog is very near and dear to me because I have believed that this is true from a very young age. I am going to share some very personal information in this blog but it helps me to prove my point. When I was young, about eight years old, I had some very tragic things happen to me and before I get started I must say that my father was very good to me and that he was the best father I could have asked for when he was around. My father and my mother were never married which you will realize is good after I described what made me discover the fact that not all things happen for a reason. My father had owned a recycling center for several years across from the Angela Huey park in kersey on main street. It was a very successful business but as you may or may not know recycling centers bring around some rather scummy people. People such as thieves, druggies, and crooks. There were three different recycling centers in my family at the time and they were all the same way so this was definitely not a coincidence. The one major difference was that my father did not have the will power that he needed to resist the druggies temptations. He and my mother were already always engaged in heated screaming matches and were splitting up anyway and I feel that that fact alone pushed him over the edge. He began to do drugs and soon went to prison for about a year. He got out after that year and soon got back on drugs. He also started threatening suicide in the front yard with a firearm in hand. It took very little time for him to get thrown back in jail. This happened several more times. He is out of prison and doing very well now, but he has only been out for about six months. Remembering that I was only eight when all this started and having to see all of this at such a young age. How could this have happened for a reason. What kind of all powerful being would let this happen to a child.
The dust kicks up around me. The wind blows and sends dirt and sand everywhere. I lay on the ground, writhing in pain, as I wait for help. Tirelessly, I struggle to move as night falls. The dark red puss like blood seeps from the wound in my chest. The dark is closing in and it is getting cold as the night arrives. I am not religious, although now I begin to pray that help will soon arrive. I hear helicopters above but cannot see them. My vision begins to fade as death arrives. In my last moments I sigh a sound of pain then everything goes black.
The taste of cinnamon toast and butter bring several fond memories to my mind. My great grandmother on my mothers side still to this day eats it everyday for breakfast and she will until the day she dies. It reminds me of all the good times I have spent with her every time I smell cinnamon.
ReplyDeleteEverybody has some sort of pain whether it's like injury pain or a different kind of pain. And everybody has happiness in there lives. Happiness should be in everybody's lives. The taste of happiness means that everyone should have some happiness in there lives. And the color of pain is usually red meaning pain. Every single person suffers from pain in some sort of way. Everyone deserves happiness in life. Color of pain is red the color of blood. Taste of happiness is smiling faces on peoples faces. The taste of happiness is the best thing to have!