Daily Archives: February 13, 2013

MY CRAZY DAY!

Standard

I”m not going to school today because Of some utterly insane reasons:

This morning when I woke up I felt horrible and weak.

okay, I thought. big deal. ask mom what to do..

so I do. I drink some water with lemon. I feel better.

I think: okay, now. why not take a relaxing shower, RIGHT??

wrong. mom comes in to brush her teeth. I start to feel faint. I tell her.

she says to come out of the shower.

now this is the strangest thing:

I have only felt faint once before (in a jacuzzi with a full body swimsuit!!)

I felt like a 6 ton weight was on my head,

I was cloudy

I felt nausia

I wimpered “im going to faint! I dont want to faint, I’ve never fainted before…..

The next thing I knew, I heard “get up, get up, get, up” and I first thought I was dreaming and then i realized

I JUST FRIGGEN FAINTED!!!!!!!!!!!!

I guess there’s a first for everything…….oh god. And what a truly crazy morning.

okay. Hope you are shocked enough ūüôā

Your nervous friend,

–Golden star Poetry

Blackberries

Standard

P.S -there is supposed to be a break every two lines but unless I upgrade this blog, I will never be allowed stanzas (boo hoo)

Blackberries

This blackberry darkness turns faery ghost white,

And the dawn shakes the dust off the cold hungry night.

And the demons and goblins and witches agree,

And the moon rising up and the sun setting down,

And the black of the evening comes in with a “BOOM”

And the thousands of eyes coming into the town.

Little lakes leave their poise and their placid overlay,

Stretch out hundreds of years to the rock and the bay.

And I ponder, beside these, on rocks by that pool,

Near a thunderstorm’s clash when the morning is cool

And the summer’s¬†awaiting¬†to pick and be plucked,

Int his vast open world, there the baskets are tucked

And in Summer when hotter the juice of a fruit,

Set to sonnet and music and Zither and Lute

And the blueberries blue, and the blackberries white,

when they crush, when they melt, leave unturned in the light

And in Swarthering winters, they wither and die,

Left to moan in the cabins, to yearn and to cry

But their songs never cease, in the cabins they frost,

And in frozen young Winters the berries are lost.

Copyright 2013 Golden Star Poetry

Office Workday (written in mid-2011)

Standard

 

post 1

Mr. Richardson stood from his chair, put the note on the door, strode down the hallway, and descended the old rickety staircase that led to the main offices. Once on the ground floor, he walked to the meeting room where he held gatherings with the staff members once or twice a week, depending on the amount of issues there were to discuss.

He opened the door, and stepped in.

Chapter One

Slowly, Mr. Richardson walked to his chair. Once he was settled, he stared at the cushy chair in front of him, and glanced at his watch. He was 10 minutes early. Noticing his awkward emotions in that still, silent room, he was glad to find all the staff members shuffle in. He nodded and smiled. People finding their seats, a soft murmur. When everyone was in their places, he cleared his throat and spoke. The discussion was about to begin.

Chapter Two

The strange, monotonous day seemed to have doubled it’s length. The hot, un-air conditioned cubicles and desks were in a foul mood, and everyone was sticking to their seats. Even though ¬†fans were brought in from the basement floor, nothing changed. The faint clacking of¬†typewriters could plainly be heard. Everyone was quiet.

Chapter Three

Though most of the staff was quite tired, some decided to bring in cold drinks to the parched mouths of their brethren workers. The offer was greatly appreciated, and soon, everyone was back to chattering about, doing business on the telephone, and typing up important information. In short, the office had been brought back to life. Mr. Richardson kept an eye on everyone from his perch at the top of the banister. Putting on his spectacles, Mr. Richardson heaved a sigh and went back into his office.

x   x   x   x   x   x   x   x   x

Not moments later, a cry broke out from the first floor. Mr. Richardson stepped out and called “Hey! What’s going on?!” Immediately he could see what had happened. Betty, one of the best workers in the office, had spilled a cup of scouring hot coffee on her leg. The burn was huge. It was¬†bleeding¬†on the marble floor, and her friend Anna was caring for the wound with a damp cloth . All eyes turned to Mr. Richardson. He looked¬†embarrassed¬† Suddenly, he blurted “out! Everybody out! ” Then to Anna he said “I’l call the paramedics, no need to worry- ¬†you’re excused.” “and you, Mrs. Adams,” said Mr. Richardson, looking at Betty harshly “be more careful next time”. The damp cloth was abandoned, and Betty’s blood was seeping through. Mr. Richardson picked up the telephone. Looking away from Betty, he dialed Zero, said a few hushed words, and hung up. Betty was kneeling on the floor, weeping.

They both heard the sirens.

Copyright  2013 Golden Star Poetry