Poem - Mistakes

Mistakes
by Lilly Blade

We all make mistakes you say
Yet home many do I forgive
When it is the same mistake
Over and over . . .

Not a shoe on the floor
Or even a broken glass
But it is your word

Your word should mean something
Your word should be unbreakable
Your word should be kept

And it's not . . .

Mistakes can be forgiven
But once trust is gone
What's left?

August 4, 2009

Writing Exercise - Raspberries

Raspberries

If she closed her eyes and thought about it, she could almost taste them. The fresh, ripe berries picked right off the bush bursting with flavor in her mouth. It was one of those memories she savored.

Lilly didn’t have much in the way of good childhood memories so the few she had to took out and treasured every so often and today was on of those days. Someone had brought a raspberry tart to work for the meeting. Just the smell was enough to evoke the lovely memory.

They were a sunny days at her grandmother’s house who lived just outside the city limits. Close enough to the city, she’d used to say, but just enough out in the country to enjoy the world the way it was meant to be enjoyed. And part of that had been her fruit trees and berry bushes. Every year Lilly got to visit for a week and after dinner was always the same. “Go get some raspberries, little one,” Grandma would said.

They’d had raspberry pie, raspberry bread, raspberries on ice cream and just plain raspberries. Every time she saw raspberries in the store she also thought of her grandmother and smiled.

But her grandmother had died when she was a teenager, leaving her with a work-aholic father and an emotionally abusive mother and no happy escape. But at least she had the memories to hold on to, Lilly thought. At least she had the memories . . . and the raspberries, she added as she looked at the tart.

Poem - Influences

Influences
by Lilly Blade

You whisper in my ear
"Do it
It won't hurt . . ."
You whisper in my ear
"It will be fun"
You whisper in my ear
"Don't you remember
The times we had?
The Fun?"
You whisper in my ear
But I do not listen.
My answer is no.

July 28, 2009

Writing Exercise - Birthday Party

Your birthday is coming up. In the past, you've always gone all out to remember those you loved. You're hoping yours will wind up just as spectacular. Describe how it turns out.

My 40th birthday was coming up. The big 4-0. I didn't personally feel any different and wasn't expecting a big deal. In fact, I was expecting a quiet get together with a couple of my friends.

Boy was I surprised when I walked into Jason and Susan's apartment and saw all my friends there with "over the hill" decorations everywhere.

"SURPRISE!!" Everyone shouted

"How does it feel to be over the hill like me?" Susan asked as she put a silly hat on my head.

"The same as ever," I laughed.

"Well, I'm going to go start the coals. Got to have them ready. I'm making your favorite BBQ chicken like we planned, along with hot dogs and hamburgers."

"AND we have a cake for you too!" Susan added and showed me a cake that had a cemetary on it.

"Nice!" I laughed. "Where's my tombstone?"

"Right there," she pointed out.

Sure enough, there was one with my name, one with her name, and a few other friends' names who were over 40.

"We have to have a picture of this," Jason said as he came back in. He snapped a photo of all us Tomb Stone friends together.

After that, the evening passed with conversation, good food, a blur of gag gifts, some real ones too, but the best thing of all was just the sense of family. For someone that never had real family, you couldn't ask for a better gift or a better 40th.

Writing Exercise - 10 songs off a character's ipod

Take a character from one of your stories and examine his or her ipod playlist. What 10 songs best describe the character?

Kara Storm was getting ready for a work-out of punching and kicking at a suspended bag, but to help focus her, she had her ipod. Placing the buds securely in her ears she scanned the songs looking for the right one to get started with.

'Policy of Truth' by Depeche Mode, no . . . 'Move along' by All American Rejects . . . no . . . 'Otherside' by the Red Hot Chili Peppers? No she wasn't in the mood to start with those and kept scanning. 'Tourniquet' by Evanescense, 'Bullet with butterfly wings' by Smashing Pumpkins,'Savin' Me' by Nickelback, 'Leave Out all the Rest' by Linkin Park, 'Kryponite' by 3 Doors Down? But nothing sounded good. Then she found it!

"Ah yes . . . No More Sorrow," she said to herself. Linkin Park was good work out music and especially this song when you had things in your past you wanted to get even for. One day, she thought, but not today. Today she was going to punch and kick the bag in front of her until she couldn't move her arms and legs without aching. It would keep her sane for the time being.

Starting the music, she took her first punch at the hanging bag.

Poem - Power

Power
by Lilly Blade

Go ahead
Abuse your power
Just try to knock me down
But I won't fall
Not to someone like you
Push me
I'll push back
Hit me
I'll hit you back
And when the dust settles
I'll still be standing
But where will you be
With your delusions of power?


July 26, 2009

Writing Exercise, Back to School

Back-to-school


Rachel couldn't believe it as she looked at the date. Another two weeks and school would start again for her youngest. Where had the summer gone? It wasn't as if they'd gone on any trips or anything. But it still seemed as if the days had just passed as if by some magic.


Sighing she pulled out her checkbook to take stock of her funds. In another week she'd have some extra money. She was due a royalty check that would hopefully be enough to cover the new clothes, new shoes, new backpack and all the other ‘new' things that had to be bought.


One of her saving graces though, was the fact her son was almost 18 years old and had graduated. There was no more school for him. That was one less child to buy for, though invariably, she'd get him a couple of shirts and a pair of jeans anyway. It was how she was. But another school year starting . . . kids just grew up too fast. She couldn't keep up with the times, she thought, remembering when her kids had once been babies. She could even remember their gently, baby smell. And here they were, growing up; her son almost an adult and her daughter getting ready to start her first year in middle school.


With another sigh, she circles a day on her calendar for the shopping excursion. Like her daughter, she didn't want summer to be over and have to go back to the grind. But it was what it was. Life went on and kept going . . . and going back to school.

Poem - Nichole Danielle

Nichole Danielle
by Kitty Mallory
July 8, 2009

You were always so beautiful . . .
The little girl
I wanted to be mine . . .

I loved you so much
Maybe no enough...
Maybe I just couldn't help you
But I wanted to . . .
I wanted to be there for you
And instead
You were taken from me . . .

No chances to help you
No chances to be there for you
No chance to hug you again
And tell you
That no matter what happened
That I would always love you

You weren't mine
But you were
In my heart

My little girl always . . .

Writing Exercise, Love

Kira couldn’t believe it. After so long, she was finally there . . . Australia. It had been her dream for two years after she had met James rather unexpectedly online one evening through one of several networking sites she was on. There was something about his photo that had drawn her to him. His smile and the twinkle in his eyes had immediately gotten her attention so she’d sent him a message. It didn’t take them long to be friends, followed by flirting and so much more than that.

Growing up had been an ordeal for Kira. Emotional abuse, verbal abuse and on occasions she was hit with wooden spoons. She guessed it was her mother’s equivalent of a birch stick. All of it had left its damage on her to the point that when she married, she married someone just like her mother. His abuse was the same, only in some respects more and worse. When he hit her, it wasn’t with a wooden spoon but with his fists – though he was always careful not to strike her face. The last time he’d laid a hand on her she’d been 7 months pregnant with their daughter. To that day she still couldn’t remember what she’d said, but he never struck her again. Only the memories of the striking stayed with her. The words had faded when the hysteria had.

When she had divorced her husband, he had continued to emotionally abuse her, using the kids in his games. But in the end, she had gained custody and no visitation so finally she’d had a chance to start healing . . . a bit.

Still, for so long she thought she was broken. That she would stay broken forever. That she was truly incapable of loving someone and that maybe she just wasn’t really loveable. Years she was like that, willing to keep going through life, because that was life was; living for her kids. Making sure they grew up healthy and as happy as she could make it and try to hold onto herself for as long as she could until there was truly nothing left of her.

Kira had encountered several suitors, but none of them were successful with her; brief affairs, no serious emotions. That was her life and she had accepted that fate; until it got turned over on top of its head by James.

It had started simple; short emails back and forth and sending little pictures and funny captions to each other. It progressed to flirty mass emails where it asked questions “What would you do with me if you found me in your shower” giving many options from calling the police to joining and other things more pleasant. It were those that they finally realized their true attraction for each other and in time that became love even over thousands of miles and almost a day difference between them.

But here she was. Finally . . . She stood on the sand looking out across the ocean in New Whales. It was beautiful. The sky was beautiful. Kira couldn’t honestly remember being this happy, except the days her children were born.

Sighing contentedly, she felt hands move tenderly around her waist.

“What are you thinking?” James whispered in her ear. “Missing home?”
“Not yet,” she replied as she turned to kiss him tenderly. “Part of me feels I am home.”

He smiled and caressed her face, leaning toward her in another kiss; one with more passion. She lost herself in it.

“When will the kids join you here?” he asked as the kiss ended and their eyes met.

“One week,” she replied.

“Then we have a week just for us,” he grinned wickedly, scooping her into his arms as he headed to the car.

She laughed. “What are you doing?

“I’m not going to waste a moment,” he said.

Carefully sliding her into the car she pulled him to her. “I love you,” she said softly and kissed him.

He had awakened a part of her that she had felt dead. Because of him, she had looked toward the future; not just making it through each day. He gave her a dream. He gave her his heart . . . He had given her his love and she had willingly given herself to him.

“I love you, Kira,” he said, whispering her name, like a breath on the wind.

For the moment, life was perfect and she couldn’t ask for more.

Writing Exercise, Meadow

He wasn't supposed to have found her. She thought she'd covered her tracks. But somehow, there he was . . . unfortunately. The idea was that it would be over. She'd be alone and at least find peace. There would finally be peace and no more pain.


She stared out across the meadow. It had been her place of solitude so long ago. She'd forgotten than she'd taken him here. Her mistake, she thought sadly.


With a long ragged breath, she closed her eyes.


"You need to leave, Daniel," she said.


"Not without you," he said simply.


She couldn't look at him. His chiseled face and blue eyes . . . strong like stone, but she knew the side he hid from the world. Like all of them, he had a soft spot too and apparently she was it. But she didn't want to be it. She wanted it over.


"Lara, you can't do this," he said softly.


"But I can," she replied.


He saw her finger twitch on the trigger, as the pistol with silencer was pressed firmly against her temple. He knew she was serious. He'd seen it in her from the moment they'd met. But somehow he had to stop her. After everything, he couldn't lose her.

"Lara, just take a moment. Just think . . . Tell me why," he implored; anything to stall the dark haired beautiful before him from taking an action that could not be undone.


"You know why," she said. "Just leave me." She choked back a sob. "I am tired. I am sick of the world we live in. I can't live with the memories of the world I somehow managed to survive. The bullet is just making things official. I was dead a long time ago."


"No, Lara," he said. "You weren't. I felt you alive in my arms. When I kissed your neck and your shoulder . . . Your heartbeat would rise . . ."


For a moment, he thought he saw her waiver.


"That's life . . . right there, your heart beating . . . heat . . . touch . . ." He slowly inched toward her. But immediately, he saw her stiffen again. The momentary waiver was gone.


"That was . . . lust," she said. "Chemistry . . . hormones . . . pheromones . . . nothing more."


"Is that what you honestly believe?" he asked.


"Yes," she said, but even the softness of her voice fractured at the simple word. It was a lie. Only he could read her so well.


"Then look me in the eye and tell me that you don't love me," he said. He needed to get close enough to her. If he could look into her green eyes, then maybe he'd have a chance . . . stall her . . . save her . . .


She battled with her feelings. It was like a raging storm and there was no end in sight. She felt as if she was a ship constantly being bashed upon the rocks over and over again. Pain just grew and now he was here. She'd wanted to shield him from this side of herself, but someone he'd known. He's sensed it and followed her. She didn't want him witnessing this final end to her pain . . . to have the image carried with him forever of her weakness and inability to fight the pain any longer.


Barely above a whisper as she bit back tears; she implored him. "Daniel, please just go . . . I don't want you here."


"Look me in the eyes, Lara," he said. "You look me in the eyes and tell me you don't love me and I'll leave you."


Steeling herself for the lie to come, she swallowed hard. Carefully, she moved, never taking the gun from her hand, or away from her temple. Her green eyes were like marble by the time she gazed at him; hard and cold. She'd learned to do that well long ago.


"I don't love you," she said with as much cold as she could muster. But through her emotional fog of pain, she noticed he seemed closer . . . too close . . . She had to act. She didn't want him to see, but now there was no choice.

He had used her indecision to inch closer; distracting her with his request. Seeing the muscle in her arm begin to twitch, he struck like a snake, grabbing the weapon from her and pulling out the clip tossing both as far as he could out into the meadow. She moved to stop, but was met with nothing but his muscular chest. She pushed against him and shoved at his chest, but in the end, she just dissolved into tears.


His arms held her close. Finally . . . the tears . . . she needed the tears and he needed her. The man made of ice wasn't any longer, not since meeting the girl made of fire. Their line of work rarely made for happy endings one way or another, but he would find a way; for them.


Lara had run so far and so long trying to escape the past that had always haunted her and the overwhelming pain that came with it. She'd never trusted anyone; never let the walls down far enough to allow anyone in until Daniel. He'd made it through her defenses and wanted to save her . . . he wanted to save her so badly, but she wasn't sure she could be saved.


"Don't give up, Lara," he said softly as he kissed her forehead. "Don't give up on me or yourself."


Suddenly, in the distance, she heard the sound of a helicopter. Her eyes turned to Daniel's questioningly. "Thought you needed help," he said simply and before she could argue or struggle, he used a small injector at the artery in her neck and tranqed her. He watched as her eyes grew glassy. "I love you, Lara, and if you think I'm going to just let you die, you've got another thing coming . . ."


Those were the last words she heard before everything faded away into darkness.

Writing Exercise, Suicide

She sat there with the gun to her head; the muzzle of the Glock pistol to her temple. One little squeeze and it would be over . . . There would be no more pain. With luck, there would be nothing . . . just blissful darkness . . . no feelings. Just nothing . . . She didn't care if there was nothing after life, as if she were extinguished like a candle flame with the wick being pulled out to never be lit again.


It just didn't matter anymore. Nothing did. The pain she felt inside was just too great and she was so tired of fighting it. She was so tired of hanging on. Without her kids, there was no reason to go on either. She looked at a photo of them. As a mother she'd failed. As a person she'd failed. How many times had her mother drilled that into her? That she was a failure. That she was imperfect and she wasn't worthy of love if she weren't perfect.


Her Ex husband had been no better. Everything done was her fault. He had wanted her to commit suicide and now without her children . . . He'd killed them. He'd survived the car crash; the one he'd caused trying to kidnap them, but they hadn't.


Tears poured from her eyes. There was nothing left to hold her . . . nothing left of her.


Her finger slowly eased the trigger . . .

Writing Exercise, Ice Queen

She couldn't believe it! The man actually had the nerve to call her ICE QUEEN?! She was stunned and furious. The man had been nothing but abusive during their stormy 10 year marriage; yelling, name calling, verbal put downs, emotional abuse . . . and even on occasions he'd hit her.

Emily Grant had stayed through it all, even though, if she'd been smart, she thought, she would have dumped him years ago. But then . . . she wouldn't have her children and she couldn't imagine her life without them.

But ICE QUEEN? It wasn't exactly unexpected that he'd try to instigate a fight with her upon bringing the kids back after his weekend visitation. Usually it was something to do with the kids; like spots on the clothes, or that she didn't pack the clothes they needed or something or other. It didn't matter to her because it seemed half the things she packed didn't come back anyway. So why send more??

But ICE QUEEN?? ICE QUEEN?? Over all the times he'd been an ass and had hurt her emotionally, verbally and physically, she'd NEVER denied him sex! HE was the one that wanted to jack off in front of his computer screen instead of coming to bed with her. So if she was the Ice Queen then he was the Court Jester, perferring images on a screen to her in the bed. What a boost to her self esteem THAT had been!

It was after the birth of their second child . . . a little girl . . . she decided that enough was enough. She didn't want her daughter growing up and finding a man just like her father. Emily didn't wish that for her daughter and she prayed that it wasn't too late for their son, who was six at the time of his sister's birth. Two years later, they'd been in court; court order for visitation and all that fun stuff. He had never gotten over the fact that she had DUMPED him.

THAT was what the continued abuse was all about. She knew it, but it didn't make her feel any better. He was sore that she left him. He was sore that she didn't love him anymore or want to be with him. 'Gee, I wonder why that would be,' she thought sarcastically to herself. 'Why wouldn't I want to stay with such a charmer!!'

Though he was gone, the tiff replayed in her mind. The bastard had the nerve to call her an Ice Queen as if SHE had been responsible for their divorce. It had nothing to do with him being an abusive jerk! Nope! Couldn't be!

Eventually, her daughter, who was now 4 years old came up to her.

"Momma?" she said with concerned eyes.

"I'm, okay, baby doll," Emily smiled as she picked her up and put her on her lap. "Mommy was just thinking about something. But don't you worry . . . everything's fine."

"Can we have pizza?" she asked.

Emily smiled.

"I think Pizza is an excellent idea! What kind do you want?"

"CHEESE!"

"Okay, we get half pepperoni for your brother and cheese for us," she said.

"YAY!!" the little girl squealed in delight.

For the moment, the argument was pushed into the back of her mind. She had more important things to focus on.