Millennial Burnout and the inability to grow up. Continue reading More Millennial Commentary
“Don’t move and it won’t hurt so much,” My mother said tapping my head with the comb. I winched. She sighed and brought the comb slowly through the sections she was working on, stopping at the ends and snipping them off cleanly. My locks had grown about mid back length and they were becoming tiresome so it was time for a hair cut. She worked quickly knowing that my tolerance for this task wouldn’t last. Snip. Snip. “Don’t squirm.” It hurt because my hair tangled at the ends as it always had and well, you try having someone rip hairs … Continue reading Scissors
Hey there everyone, Amaranthineblogs here.Through this post I want to introduce to you what an acrostic poem is.”An acrostic poem is a type of poetry where the first, last or other letters in a line spell out a particular word or phrase. The most common and simple form of an acrostic poem is where the first letters of each line spell out the word or phrase.”.Not many people know about this and hey if you do, then type a “yes” in the comments section and let me know.Here’s an example for an acrostic poem I wrote : https://amaranthineblogs.wordpress.com/2017/08/23/women-an-acroustic-poem/ That’s one … Continue reading Acrostic poems and why everyone can write them.
The bird in the cage is destitute it cries, but no sound is heard it’s heart has been shattered into a million pieces it’s hope smashed to smithereens. The black hooded figure outside, stares it’s nefarious smile spreads through the cage.. and the poor bird..it shivers. It’s desire to live…plunged into and burned like an unlighted candle. the bird Continue reading The caged bird..
It’s 11pm here.Not being able to sleep I thought i’d just write down what comes to my mind.After all beauty is in spontaneity. This spot, in my heart belongs to you. It has your name carved out in beautiful black … Continue reading The pedestal
I wrote a poem/ song. I was inspired by a conversation with a friend the other night and this was the result. Check it out Continue reading New Poem
A poem I wrote in 2007- April 14, 2007 What about us? The reason why we search for love is simple. We want to be exceptional to someone, Even if the world can’t see out specialness We want someone who can. We need someone to think we’re important And to miss us when we’ve gone away. we cling to that person who thinks more of us them we do of ourselves but the world neglects us, rejects us, deflects us. So I have to know- What about those of us who are not exceptional, great or special? The normal, hum-drum, … Continue reading What About Us
Thomasa Pridgen Feb 2019 Love Story for Creative Writing Workshop He touched her arm and she could instantly feel the heat. She craved his touch so it wasn’t that she didn’t like, she did- a lot, but she could feel herself start to boil and she wondered if he would notice, if he could read the thoughts racing though her mind. She imagined him grabbing her and pulling her into him and the thought made her smile. She looked into his eyes knowing that if he never let go she would simply float away and somehow she’d be perfectly happy … Continue reading Work Shopped Story Revision
[Challenge: Write a horror story based on a bit of local paranormal history.] Another cat. Another drape of dew-sodden fur over a worn headstone, blood sticky on the granite. Hardened black drips of candle wax make a witch-ring about the grave. Another Halloween. I never understood the part about the cats. A real witch would never. Whatever it is they want from me, living cats draw ghosts aplenty; that poor carcass will only draw flies. I want to bury the wretched thing right now; I can touch things, if I want enough. But any activity on my part would only … Continue reading Becky’s Grave
(Short Story for the Haunted Open Mic and Chilling October Writing Challenge) I don’t really remember when I first noticed him. I think I must have been very young. Too young to know that I shouldn’t be seeing him at all. When I became more aware- I did notice that I didn’t like him. A tall slim man in a top hat looming in a corner, his features blurred like he wasn’t really there- not really solid- a shadow. And he’s followed me. Every house or apartment I’ve ever lived- There he was. He’d pick a corner- usually in my … Continue reading The Shadow Man