Tag: creativewriting

Things to Romanticize

~ Brooke F. ~ Leave a comment

A list I began for no reason and will probably continue. I just want to fall in love with the mundane again. It’s all in the little things I suppose.

Car Rides

The sleepy feeling of driving at night with someone you trust. Chill music playing in the background. Street lights whizzing by in the dark. The green glow of the radio controls.

Letters

Pen and ink. The wonderful scratching sound of writing on parchment. Being unnecessarily fancy. Writing in cursive. Talking about the weather and how much you miss them.

Elevator Rides

You feel busy and important but not so much so that you’re above smiling at those who get in the elevator with you. The little compliments you offer your temporary traveling companions. A shared moment of quiet in everyone’s day as the chime sounds after each floor.

Freshly baked bread

The smell filling the house. Soft butter. Soup. Cold, wet weather.

Lightning bugs

The smell of fresh July air. Mason jars. Contests between siblings to see who can catch the most,

Sun Rises

Being up and about before everyone else. Quiet time. Reading as you watch the world wake. A misty blanket which slowly lifts.

Lace curtains

Rays of sunshine streaming through. Patterned shadows being cast on the opposite wall. Quaint and homey.

Dabbling in many different hobbies

Who knows what you’re into this week. Fast paced. Knowing a little bit of everything. Endless possibilities. The joy of learning for the sake of learning.

Hand written notes (the handwriting doesn’t have to be perfect)

Personal. Gratitude for everyone in a small way. Smudged letters that reveal a message that has that person floating the rest of their day.

Moths

Flitting around light. Patterned wings. Night butterflies.

Evening Poems: Its not that I hate myself, I’m just tired of my own crap

~ Brooke F. ~ Leave a comment

It’s kind of sad.
I dont know when exactly but I think I stopped enjoying my own company.
I dont enjoy being alone anymore.
It’s been forever since I’ve enjoyed my thoughts and told myself stories before falling asleep.
My head hasn’t been a nice place to be lately.
Things weigh down heavier than I remember.
And I’m just so tired of myself. Which is unfortunate as she’s the only person in this world that I’m guaranteed to have.
I dont know when exactly I started being uncomfortable with being alone. Maybe it was a slow sort of process.
But it makes sense now why I have so many hobbies. Things that can distract me from the company that I’m keeping.
I dont particularly hate myself but she’s a very exhausting person to be around.
And so I’m tired all the time.

Evening Poems: Candy Wrappers

~ Brooke F. ~ Leave a comment

I used to have time to write down the processes of my mind.
And convey them through weaving stories.
To make a feast of my innermost desires and fears to be consumed by every hungry reader.
Now I have less time
And even more thoughts.
So instead I package them like candy,
Coated with sugar to hide the sour inside.
And I call it poetry.

Evening Poems: Golden

~ Brooke F. ~ Leave a comment

Golden child, golden child,
As soon as you were born
Your parents cooed
What a treasure! So beautiful.
And as you got older and you were quick to read.
Shes so talented they said. Ahead of the curve.
But as your pace slowed to match the others,
You can hear the disappointed words of your mother.
When you raised the bar so high you yourself could not reach
You did not realize this was a permanent arrangement.

And so golden child, golden child, you began to fall.
For you tied your worthiness of being loved to your performance.
And so when you sometimes struggled to keep pace,
Tears born of failure, tarnished your golden face.

Evening Poems: Battles

~ Brooke F. ~ Leave a comment

I love you
Coming from the wrong person
Those words feel like a weapon
And twenty swords drawn, aimed at your heart,
Just waiting for the precise moment to thrust.
You do not trust the person you love to love you back in a gentle way
A way that is good for your soul.
No, they are the type of person that will hit you, all while dripping good intentions like blood from a wound.
Punch you in the stomach while softly telling you that you are their world.
And the tragedy is, they often mean it. But cannot see beyond their own red hands.
The special pain of oblivious lovers.
Am I cursed to love the ignorant?

Perhaps so. For you are a poison that smells of Roses and I drink you in all the same.

Evening Poems: Victorious

~ Brooke F. ~ Leave a comment

The many victories of a healthy mind
Are In the small things I’ve come to find.
Nails no longer bitten to nubs
Flesh and blood and hangnail stubs.
I buy myself a coffee with little guilt.
And By midmorning, I no longer wilt.
Hunger is something I actually feel.
Food can be enjoyed, senses real.
I can sleep and wake with the sun.
And I feel full when the day is done.
Even if I haven’t exactly changed the world.
I was not lost in a sickening whirl.
I saw my coffee thick with cream.
Walked barefoot in a little stream.
I saw the rain fall in a mist.
Along the pane the water kissed.
These things weren’t lost on me- I saw them all.
I couldnt before- I was too busy with my fall.
These are the victories of a healthy mind.
All the little things that you can find.

Flowers

~ Brooke F. ~ Leave a comment

I wrote a reversible poem! Read it Forwards and then Backwards!

I’ll love you forever  

So I gave you flowers  

The church bells rang 

Till death do us part.  

To Never to be severed from. 

My darling it’s you I never want 

To lose 

To love is 

To feel my heart beat stop in my chest. 

I hear those fateful words 

My head spins.  

I’ll never forget 

This 

What did I ever do to deserve 

You 

It begins and ends with 

Flowers 

Writing Prompt: Murder Circus

~ Brooke F. ~ Leave a comment

You’ve worked at a circus all your life. You’ve seen acts come and go and generally have enjoyed your job and have stayed on good terms with everyone. It’s a living. But your life takes a turn when a new act is hired: a fortune teller. Which would be fine if she didn’t foretell the death of multiple circus troupe members three separate times. Something is going on here, and you are determined to find out what- not only to save your job, but the lives of the other members of the troupe.