could shine light in the darkest room and her laugh could get out me of any rut I had perpetually set myself into. From the coldest winter nights where she would sit outside until three in the morning on the phone with me to the time you wrote me poems to cheer me up‚ you were always there for me. Our friendship last one year‚ nine months‚ and seventeen days‚ and through all that time‚ I had never cared for someone as much as I did for you. Even today‚ you are beautiful. I can’t express in amount
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was so young during that time period‚ I had absolutely no idea that my family was homeless. The word homeless comes with such a bad attachment‚ so for a long time I never spoke about it to anyone. But‚ I think it’s important to share your personal story‚ in hopes that another can relate. About three years of my life were spent either in a car or a shelter or once in a while at a family/friends home. Given that‚ I think it would be best to speak only about the first year. Granted that it was the most
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Gazing into the landscape of Berlin‚ I sit propped up by concrete rubble. With my sentry duty over‚ I smother my cigarette and begin wading through remains of previous battles to get back to camp. Inside the camp the atmosphere was grim‚ full of depression and malice. There were bodies laying in piles on the sides of the street. Empty bullet shells scattered everywhere. Blood stained pavement as far as the eye could see. The camp was far from welcoming. After being awake for 10 hours I rest my head
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Zichao Huang Mr. Lambert English028 March 17‚ 2015 The Story of an Hour “The Story of an Hour” is about a woman named Mrs. Mallard who is married to a man named Mr. Mallard. Mrs. Mallard does not have a very good heart‚ and she is sick. Something bad has happened‚ and people do not know how to tell her about it. Josephine is her sister‚ and she tells Mrs. Mallard that Mr. Mallard died in a train accident. Richards is Mr. Mallard’s friend‚ and he is there because he knew about the accident. Richards
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Empathy Story It was a dark night in the midst of a gloomy winter‚ when two hearts broke. It was 18th century in Africa and it was a time of revolution‚ there was a small village out side of the town called Jacksbury where two young men lived‚ one white and the other black. There names were Jayden and Josh. Jayden was the more fortunate as his father was a wealthy farmer unlike josh’s father who worked in a factory. Josh and his Dad were both born in England but moved to Africa later in
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Go Down‚ Death User Rating: 8.6 /10 (18 votes) - vote - 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 Print friendly version E-mail this poem to e friend Send this poem as eCard Add this poem to MyPoemList Weep not‚ weep not‚ She is not dead; She’s resting in the bosom of Jesus. Heart-broken husband--weep no more; Grief-stricken son--weep no more; Left-lonesome daughter --weep no more; She only just gone home. Day before yesterday morning‚ God was
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BELONGING STORY(2) Coughing violently‚ I passed the glass pipe along to the young man beside me‚ who took a long drag before handing it on the next in the circle. I could feel the foul-tasting smoke tear down my throat and withstood the urge to vomit. The entire room was overflowing with a fetid haze; it grated against the back of my throat as though it were sandpaper. I fought to maintain my composure and appearance of serenity‚ but if anyone looked close enough they would easily be able to distinguish
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In Control In my sophomore year of high school‚ I remember a particular speech I had to deliver in my English class. It was just like any other‚ honestly. But this one‚ this specific one‚ gave me the greatest trouble. My irrational fear of public speaking consumed me and turned me against myself. I remember the mindset that I had for most of my sophomore year: me vs. them. That was how high school was. It was every man for himself. But never would I have ever thought that I was my own biggest obstacle
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Odysseus and his tired men land upon a barren island‚ surrounded by crystal waters. They anchored their ship and shuffled off‚ in weary silence. The island was only a raised chunk of smooth white rock‚ with an igloo shaped cave. “We have learned our lesson with Polyphemus‚ we must stay clear of that cave.” Shouted Odysseus. Some men agreed with him‚ but others muttered in disagreement. They group decided to settle down for the night‚ as they longed to sleep on solid land once again‚ even for just
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Short Story Scrutiny. Scepticism. Shock. It was all too familiar‚ the look on the faces in the room. An aboriginal female in a doctor’s coat. She glanced around the room as she sat down. The dullness of the grey walls seemed to absorb the lost hopes and dreams of the young men around her. The stale oxygen that lingered in the small room was slowly suffocating under the sterile smell of disinfectant. The only glimmer of light was a small corner of a window where the morning sun shimmered through
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