I've just completed Chapter Nine of Utopia and I know it's been a while since I've written on this blog. Ha. I don't remember what the last chapter I wrote was but anywho... It's posted so enjoy!
http://www.goodreads.com/story/show/34209-utopia?chapter=9
Tuesday, May 11, 2010
Sunday, January 24, 2010
s a n e
I've realized I haven't posted anything in a while. haha, too much stuff at home I guess. I'm starting a new story called " s a n e ". It's like SPLIT with poems and stuff.
It's about a girl name Ricky (Richelle) Martin who is sent to Oregon's finest art school. Except it's for the mentally insane, which Ricky knows she is not, but her clinicly diagnosed mother is. She's stuck at the assylum knowing that she'll get out, that it's all a mistake. But what if that mistake is really reality hiding behind the walls, and glass doors of the only place she could ever really stay?
The first poem is called Johnny Jay's.
Johnny Jay's
Johnny Jay's
It's not some type of game,
Not a song,
That make's you smile.
And if it was one of those things,
I'm sure,
From here to the sky
That it would make you cry.
No,
Johnny Jay's is a place.
One where only
Certain avaliable people get to go.
It's not some rich kid hotel,
Or a pretty little summer camp,
Oh no,
It's a assylum.
For the mentally insane.
It's about a girl name Ricky (Richelle) Martin who is sent to Oregon's finest art school. Except it's for the mentally insane, which Ricky knows she is not, but her clinicly diagnosed mother is. She's stuck at the assylum knowing that she'll get out, that it's all a mistake. But what if that mistake is really reality hiding behind the walls, and glass doors of the only place she could ever really stay?
The first poem is called Johnny Jay's.
Johnny Jay's
Johnny Jay's
It's not some type of game,
Not a song,
That make's you smile.
And if it was one of those things,
I'm sure,
From here to the sky
That it would make you cry.
No,
Johnny Jay's is a place.
One where only
Certain avaliable people get to go.
It's not some rich kid hotel,
Or a pretty little summer camp,
Oh no,
It's a assylum.
For the mentally insane.
Wednesday, January 13, 2010
Contest
I just entered a contest and I sent in this really... Dark poem that I wrote, since it's based upon a picture. When I find the link, I'll add to it.
-Jasmine
-Jasmine
Wednesday, January 6, 2010
Plain
I just wanted to say that there is a line in my work between reality and fiction. I play over the lines many times, but the line is still there.
I writer does write about themselves.
But it doesn't mean that the things they write are personal.
Just wanted that to be clear.
-Jasmine
I writer does write about themselves.
But it doesn't mean that the things they write are personal.
Just wanted that to be clear.
-Jasmine
Tuesday, January 5, 2010
Split - The Info
I'm really getting into this one. The life of a teenage girl, facing doubts, her family and drinks.
Yes, the drinks.
Alcohol.
The struggle between right and wrong.
I'm really getting this.
Two people being one,
They switch often.
Back and forth,
A never ending battle
Of Sanity.
http://www.goodreads.com/story/show/57183.Split?chapter=1
There is the link to keep on reading. I hope you enjoy.
-Jasmine
Yes, the drinks.
Alcohol.
The struggle between right and wrong.
I'm really getting this.
Two people being one,
They switch often.
Back and forth,
A never ending battle
Of Sanity.
http://www.goodreads.com/story/show/57183.Split?chapter=1
There is the link to keep on reading. I hope you enjoy.
-Jasmine
Sunday, January 3, 2010
Untitled
I wrote this a while ago and am wonder what I should do with it. I like it a lot. Maybe a writing contest? It was based off a picture that this group and I did writings for. The picture of a wave. I don't think you know where I'm going with this, so let's keep it that way.
So enjoy! This is called... well, Untitled.
UNTITLED
The wave.
It Curves.
Curves like the moon.
Then it disappears.
"Did you see it?!"
"Yeah, I did."
Is there anyone that sees what I see?
It pulls back, arches, and falls.
Tears spread.
Tears of joy?
How could there be joy?
Temptation got to it.
Forever pulling the lives of others back and forth,
Following the moon in it's cycles.
"I'm going to surf!"
"Eh? Oh, okay."
She doesn't notice.
She won't.
I stare down watching them.
They don't see me.
I don't want to do this.
But I have to.
"Ma! Look!"
"I see you!"
She laughs as her child runs into the water with his board.
Please go back out.
Please.
The day is bright, it's sunny, beautiful even.
Please go back out.
Please.
But the boy can't hear me, she cheers him on.
So peaceful.
So calm.
So...
Untouched.
"MA! Look!!"
"Wonderful dear! You're doing great!"
He goes farther and farther in.
"THERE'S A WAVE! LOOK MA!"
"I SEE YOU!"
She needs to shout,
and strain to hear him.
He does the same.
The wave goes up.
No, why didn't you listen?
The wave curls.
He was too late.
He was too small.
So small.
The wave falls.
"DEAR! GET OUT!"
It's too late.
He's lost under the wave.
It crashes into the shore, flat, there's nothing.
The board floats up to the surface.
Where is the boy?
He's lost in my blue.
How can I look so innocent, so wonderful?
How can I when I just took a boy's life?
The mother wails.
I wash the board up on shore.
And other waves softly crash at the mother's feet.
She picks up the only thing to remember her late son.
His board.
The waves bring the mother tears.
My tears.
She kneels down,
grabs the board,
looks out into my deep blue.
"Why?!"
She screams at me.
I want to explain.
But I know I can't.
She wouldn't listen.
Who would?
Who would listen to the ocean.
The waves cry my tears, tears of guilt.
How can the ocean be happy if it follows the moon?
How can it be happy if the waters are only made of tears?
-Jasmine
So enjoy! This is called... well, Untitled.
UNTITLED
The wave.
It Curves.
Curves like the moon.
Then it disappears.
"Did you see it?!"
"Yeah, I did."
Is there anyone that sees what I see?
It pulls back, arches, and falls.
Tears spread.
Tears of joy?
How could there be joy?
Temptation got to it.
Forever pulling the lives of others back and forth,
Following the moon in it's cycles.
"I'm going to surf!"
"Eh? Oh, okay."
She doesn't notice.
She won't.
I stare down watching them.
They don't see me.
I don't want to do this.
But I have to.
"Ma! Look!"
"I see you!"
She laughs as her child runs into the water with his board.
Please go back out.
Please.
The day is bright, it's sunny, beautiful even.
Please go back out.
Please.
But the boy can't hear me, she cheers him on.
So peaceful.
So calm.
So...
Untouched.
"MA! Look!!"
"Wonderful dear! You're doing great!"
He goes farther and farther in.
"THERE'S A WAVE! LOOK MA!"
"I SEE YOU!"
She needs to shout,
and strain to hear him.
He does the same.
The wave goes up.
No, why didn't you listen?
The wave curls.
He was too late.
He was too small.
So small.
The wave falls.
"DEAR! GET OUT!"
It's too late.
He's lost under the wave.
It crashes into the shore, flat, there's nothing.
The board floats up to the surface.
Where is the boy?
He's lost in my blue.
How can I look so innocent, so wonderful?
How can I when I just took a boy's life?
The mother wails.
I wash the board up on shore.
And other waves softly crash at the mother's feet.
She picks up the only thing to remember her late son.
His board.
The waves bring the mother tears.
My tears.
She kneels down,
grabs the board,
looks out into my deep blue.
"Why?!"
She screams at me.
I want to explain.
But I know I can't.
She wouldn't listen.
Who would?
Who would listen to the ocean.
The waves cry my tears, tears of guilt.
How can the ocean be happy if it follows the moon?
How can it be happy if the waters are only made of tears?
-Jasmine
Saturday, January 2, 2010
Split
I started to write this poem, and it just kept expanding so... I think it may be one of those poetry stories.
It's about a girl with two personalities because of all the secrets she has. The poetry-story is called "Split" and here is the first poem/chapter. Enjoy! To read more please comment and I will post the link!
-Jasmine
MY LIFE
My mom
hates that I am like my dad.
That I am more like him
then like her.
My mom
hates that I know
that she doesn't know
Everything she's talking about.
My mom
Hates the shows I watch
But she loves the music
That's on my radio.
My mom
Hates my choices in friends
Except for the ones
She's picked out for me.
My mom
hates THEM.
Those girls that have everything
And thinks I might want that.
I know
There's something wrong
in her past that makes her
hate everything that I am.
I am
Two people
Aria and Air.
My mom hates Air
But she likes
a bit of
Aria.
Or so I think.
My dad
thinks he can read Aria
But he can't because he
doesn't know about Air.
Or so I think.
My dad
hates the music on my radio
But my dad loves the
shows I watch on T.V.
My dad
Thinks I'm more like his father
That I am like him
more then the both of my parents combined.
My dad
knows I talk back
Only to see if anyone
Will catch my mistakes.
My dad
Doesn't know my friends
Because he doesn't see them
Because he's barely around.
My family
is strange in a way
because I have a double life
but not the way you think.
I am
Not insane but different.
Different meaning I was taught
To keep a secret.
I was
Taught to keep my mouth shut
To have two personalities
To Be both Aria and Air.
I can't
Tell the two appart sometimes
Because What Aria wants
Is different then Air.
I am
Aria
and I am
Air.
Air is writing the poem
Because Aria wants out.
It's about a girl with two personalities because of all the secrets she has. The poetry-story is called "Split" and here is the first poem/chapter. Enjoy! To read more please comment and I will post the link!
-Jasmine
MY LIFE
My mom
hates that I am like my dad.
That I am more like him
then like her.
My mom
hates that I know
that she doesn't know
Everything she's talking about.
My mom
Hates the shows I watch
But she loves the music
That's on my radio.
My mom
Hates my choices in friends
Except for the ones
She's picked out for me.
My mom
hates THEM.
Those girls that have everything
And thinks I might want that.
I know
There's something wrong
in her past that makes her
hate everything that I am.
I am
Two people
Aria and Air.
My mom hates Air
But she likes
a bit of
Aria.
Or so I think.
My dad
thinks he can read Aria
But he can't because he
doesn't know about Air.
Or so I think.
My dad
hates the music on my radio
But my dad loves the
shows I watch on T.V.
My dad
Thinks I'm more like his father
That I am like him
more then the both of my parents combined.
My dad
knows I talk back
Only to see if anyone
Will catch my mistakes.
My dad
Doesn't know my friends
Because he doesn't see them
Because he's barely around.
My family
is strange in a way
because I have a double life
but not the way you think.
I am
Not insane but different.
Different meaning I was taught
To keep a secret.
I was
Taught to keep my mouth shut
To have two personalities
To Be both Aria and Air.
I can't
Tell the two appart sometimes
Because What Aria wants
Is different then Air.
I am
Aria
and I am
Air.
Air is writing the poem
Because Aria wants out.
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