Saturday, January 9, 2010

I am





I am night with it's peaceful sight,

I am day with it's beautiful glow,

I am a rainstorm, a snowfall, a wave,
But most of all, I am free as a bird!

I am the sea that goes back and forward,

I am the sand on which children play,
I am the season that gives life to flowers,
I am the season that makes summer days.

I am the colors of a rainbow,
I am the clouds in the sky,

I am water,

I am earth,
I am liberty,
I AM LIFE!


Poem was written during my high school years.
Photos by Weheartit.com


Monday, January 4, 2010

Laurie's Diary



May 21

I took a walk this morning, nowhere in particular, just a stroll around the neighborhood. I hate my narrow street flanked by rows of two story houses, most of them plain and flat. In a feeble attempt to make them look more attractive some owners had hung flowery wreaths on their doors. These efforts made me strangely sad. I was reminded of mothers who have ugly daughters and yet buy them the prettiest dresses and put bows on their hair. There is something quite ghastly about an ugly little girl with a bow on her hair! Mothers should realize that such frills only help accentuate their child's grotesque features, but mothers in general, are a stupid breed.

I pondered about these things as I continued the tour of my neighborhood. Every house was quiet with well  manicured lawns and blooming gardens, empty driveways, closed doors and windows. Everything looked boring, monotonous, and synchronized. Suddenly I had a strong urge to undo this forced perfection, to mess it up, to make it a bit untidy and more real. That's when  I had the idea...

Same day. Late at night

I left the house after midnight. My dark clothes blended perfectly with the shadows. I began cutting in my own garden. Down came the roses, the lilies and every other blooming flower. I worked steadily, the prunning scissors barely audible in the still of the night. My hands are so sore! But I loved walking back stepping quietly on top of hundreds of  flowers laying on the pavement, their soft petals still moist, illuminated by the silvery moonlight.