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The Gardener’s Reaper

~ Brooke F. ~ Leave a comment

A Sestina

This story begins as many. Once upon a time,

The Reaper lived in a kingdom of bones

His job to collect the souls that rest.

Adorned with a scowl and a cloak grey.

Every day he woke, alone. Every morning  he sadly rose.

His love being only his garden.

But it did not love him back, his garden.

He would tend his plants, time after time,

He would have been content only with a single red rose,

A rose to brighten his kingdom of bones

But alas his flowers would die, his garden as grey

As the face of those who passed.

But as fate would have it, a woman he passed,

For his errands called him to the surface where he saw a garden.

Lush and green, filled with red blooms. This gardener’s domain was not grey.

So he offered her pay to stay with him for a time,

To tend his garden, in his kingdom of bones

In hopes the gardener would yield him a rose.

She agreed, saying she would give him his rose

Before three months would pass.

And so they went together, to the land of old bones,

Where the woman worked to make a beautiful garden

For the reaper. A place where he could bide his time.

A place beyond the reach of the underworld’s grey.

The gardener toiled, her garden green against the skyline so grey.

And on the third month, as promised, she yielded the reaper a rose.

Delighted, he put it beside his bed, where he could see it all the time.

Every time he would wave at the gardener as he walked passed,

The smile on his face not only because of the garden.

His mind no longer burdened with thoughts of souls and bones.

But alas, oh, alas, the gardener was not made to stay in the kingdom of bones,

For the green drew the attention of the souls who were jealous in the grey.

So, one day, when the reaper was gone, they found their way to the garden.

And there they destroyed every living thing. Every single rose.

The Reaper returned and knew something was wrong as he walked passed,

The gate was ajar. He ran to her, but, tragically, the gardener had run out of time.

There in the garden, the Reaper cried, laying to rest her bones.

He could not fix it this time. The grey had won.

But as time passed, as if in defiance, on her grave, it can be seen growing tall. A rose.

Evening Poems: Lost

~ Brooke F. ~ Leave a comment

Once I found home In a place  

A House of brick I couldn’t replace  

But in wind and rain, it crumbled down.  

Home in a Thing, cannot be found.  

Once I found home in a love 

But twas fleeting as a dove 

I came to realize then, when they left 

You cannot find home in what draws breath.  

Once I found home in the mirror 

In life I plunged forward with no fear 

But failure came, despite giving my best  

You cannot find home in your own chest.  

Then I found a home, in a voice  

The path that I had chosen was my own choice 

But there is one, who can renew, 

And transform even the likes of you.  

On this Earth, no home is found. 

Not in person, thing, or town.  

It is found in someone who offers grace.  

I’ll know home, when I see his face.  

The Reality of Poetry

~ Brooke F. ~ Leave a comment

The reality of poetry is nothing is ever new 

Every word before the formation of the language was thought of and known. 

The reality of poetry is it has all been written.  

The reality of poetry is you are not actually writing. You are pointing. 

To what are you pointing? 

Something bigger and more beautiful than what is before your eyes  

The world you see is a painting  

And what else is a painting for but to reveal the heart of the painter.  

And so that’s what I hope to do 

With every syllable 

And Every pen stroke  

To reveal the heart of the painter  

Evening Poems: Tired of losing sleep over this

~ Brooke F. ~ Leave a comment

Regret 

Sounds like… 

Voices cracking in the middle of the explanation. 

Apologies that never get heard. 

Rehearsal but no performance.

Regret 

Looks like… 

Everything but their face, because you’re looking all around so you don’t have to meet their gaze. 

Silence that weighs heavier than any words ever could.

Absence.

Regret 

Tastes like… 

The same cup of coffee you’ve had every morning for the past three years. 

Writing Prompt: Anti-Witch

~ Brooke F. ~ Leave a comment

Once upon a time, witches (and wizards) ruled and dominated the earth. Adorned in black and working magic in big and small ways, they had a monopoly on this planet. All who held positions of power were magic workers and corruption was rampant, those who were the most powerful being able to set the standard. Might made right.

But a chosen hero emerges who is the anti-thesis of all modern day witches- the anti-witch. She wore white robes and a witches hat, and, as far as everyone knows, she possesses no magic. And yet she has none simple mission; to dismantle the witches’ tyranny.

Writing Prompt: The Witch’s Brew

~ Brooke F. ~ Leave a comment

A new coffee shop has opened in town! It’s the newest buzz among the residents, especially the college and high school students that practically live off of Frappuccinos and macchiatos. But upon its opening, it wasn’t at all what students expected.

Blandly painted walls and decor, this shop looked anything but special. A sign hung over the door with a crescent shaped symbol, reading “The Witch’s Brew”. But its interior hardly lived up to this magical name. The only real decoration piece that one noted was a large, rectangular mirror hanging in an odd little hallway in the shop. But if one were to examine this closer, it revealed something far more interesting. The reflection did not accurately reflect the shop one was standing in, but a ornately decorated, and magical hallway. And, if one were to step into it, they would be able to follow that hallway to an even more magical coffee shop. This was the true witch’s brew.

The drinks “brewed” here are not what they seem, with fire dancing along the rim of some glasses or purple steam pouring off others, this is no ordinary coffee shop.

Tips on Studying for an Exam (especially when memorization is involved)

~ Brooke F. ~ 2 Comments

★Flash cards!

And while I know there are a lot of nifty online flashcard making sites like quizlet and so forth, but I personally recommend getting your own index cards and making your own by hand. Making the cards itself can help you study, plus if you’re ever somewhere without access to the internet, your phone, or computer, you can pull your cards out and study. Plus, it just really helps your memory to lay the cards out in various ways and studying them. Remember, the more physical movement involved in your studying, the more likely you are to retain the information.

★Make your own study guide.

Seriously. It helps you study while making it but can also be invaluable when actually studying. Memorize the information by covering up the answers to said study guide and writing the answers out, by hand. Which brings me to my next tip-

★Write things out you need to memorize

Not type. Write. If you’re handwriting is bad, don’t worry about it. That’s not the point. The point is to memorize and studies show that people are more likely to remember something when they write it out by hand.

★Recite and Read Out loud

And if you’re wondering if this is another memory thing, it is. Read your stuff out loud to your sibling, cat, your breakfast, whatever you want. Just solidify those words in your head and attach sounds to them. Again, you’ll be a lot more likely to remember.

★Take breaks

Your brain can only really focus for about an hour before wondering off into oblivion. So, every hour, walk around a little and take a well-deserved break. Study smarter, not harder.

★Don’t wait till the last second to study

We’ve all tried. And it rarely works out. And even when it does, the amount of stress you undergo the day before is not worth it. Do yourself a favor, and start as soon as possible.

★Reward yourself

Try and prevent burnout not only be taking breaks, but rewarding yourself if you can. My favorite way to do this, is if I’ve studied a long time, I’ll allow myself to buy an iced coffee before hitting the books again. Find out what little ways you can give your brain dopamine and integrate that into your study time.

★Eat food. Drink water.

Do you know how utterly useless your brain is when you’re dehydrated and hungry? Pretty darn useless. And even if you feel like you’re making progress, you’re probably are fatigued by a head ache. That’s why I mean it when I say to feed yourself and drink water. Not coffee. Not a smoothie. Water.

★Don’t attach your performance on this test to your self-worth

This is more of a mindset tip, but it concerns your preparation for this test. No matter what, PLEASE do not attach your performance on this test to your grade. Please. Speaking as someone who lived this her freshman semester, this does not help your testing abilities. You will probably find yourself a nervous wreck before, after, and during the test, therefore hindering your memory. The more stressed out you are, the more likely you are to forget stuff. And then if you don’t get the grade you wanted, you feel super defeated and it’s much harder to bounce back from a bad grade or a failed test when you possess this mindset. So do yourself a favor, and trash it. Try your hardest and the rest of it will workout.

Writing Prompt: The City of Planets and Stars

~ Brooke F. ~ Leave a comment

Fast-forward waaaaay into the future and humanity has managed to colonize every planet in the Solar system. More gaseous planets dawn floating cities, while the cold rocky planets are kept running by a large forge at their core to allow people to populate their otherwise unwelcoming terrain. But the people are more divided than ever. So, in one last ditch effort to unite humanity under one banner, a city is built, dedicated to every planet and every people. The City of Planets and Stars.

Evening Poems: My Sister’s Shoes

~ Brooke F. ~ Leave a comment

I remember when she was 11 and I was 7

I always got my sister’s old hand me downs. My mom would put the big shoes on my feet. She’d squish the ends to see if they would fit. She would tell me, before I knew it, I’d be in my sister’s shoes.

We made sticky mud pies and told stories. Got grass stained knees and carpet burns. It was nights of lightning bugs and cart wheels that made the world turn.

I remember when she was 15 and I was 11

She didn’t like looking in the mirror but she would still look. She hid behind her hair and cut herself bangs. Friends were scarce because children are cruel. This I came to know too well.

I remember when I was 15 and she was 19.

Social circles became webs to navigate. She said, they said, who said, who cares? They care, I don’t, What happened? Unfair!

I don’t know how, but we made it out in one piece.  First my sister, and then me.

Now she’s having a kid, and I’m 19.

I know I’m next.

The next sister in line.

If I’ll blink, I’ll miss it.

My mother was right.

Before I knew it, I’d be in my sister’s shoes.