Why I WriteI write because...
Oh, how can I put it into words?
(They were there, just a second ago.
So many reasons, darting and buzzing around in my head
Like dragonflies. Flashes of brilliance, difficult to capture...)
Wait a moment...wait...aha! I've caught some.
I write, because I want to take Color
And translate it into Sound, Smell, Taste and Texture
So that perhaps, I can help a blind man see a sunset.
(That was bit syrupy, wasn't it?
The sentiment gives me cavities just by looking at it...
But it's true, all the same.)
I write, because I want to tell stories worth telling;
To take someone on a journey through time and space and worlds unknown.
I want to build an escape door for people to slip through;
To let them get lost in another place and forget for a while...
Yet at the same time, give them the courage to come back and
Wrestle Reality again with the bit of magic they took away.
And that includes me.
I want to put a band-aid on a scraped-up day,
Make it rain when the sky is
Lord of the Dance?Dedicated to my Lord of the Dance,
to the man who inspired this poem,
and to all who seek stardom over servanthood.
May you learn that to possess joy,
one must dance for another's glory.
~ Lord of the Dance? ~
His costume glitters with sequins and jewels
His dancing shoes glisten and shine
The music begins as his dancers dance in,
Feet tapping in rhythmic line
He waits for his cue in the shadows and smiles
Hes hearing the roar of the crowd
The sound of cheers is sweet in his ears
They call to him, clear and loud
(But what is he left with,
When the applause dies away and the cheering ceases?
What is he left with?)
The spotlight dazzles his eyes as he enters
The audience screams out his name
And then with a leap and a blurring of feet
He dances as wild as a flame
Hes the star of his show, this spectacle grand
The stage is his world without end
A vast expanse on which to dance
Where Magic and Realism blend
(But what is he left with,
When the dance is no
Beautiful - A Short Story
For Kay, my dear sister in Jesus. May this small parable help to remind you how beautifully and wonderfully made you are in the eyes of the Great Artist.
~ Beautiful ~
A Short Story
Once upon a time, not long ago and not far away, there lived a wise and skillful artist who loved to paint. He delighted in making magic with color and bringing all the images he saw in his head to life in his pictures.
One day, he was painting something extra special. His brush dipped in and out of the swirling colors and flew across the canvas in expert strokes; dabbing here, blending there, moving swiftly in a joyful, marvelous dance of creation.
And at last, the painting was complete. It was a picture of a pretty young girl on a swing at a park, with a rosy-cheeked face and sweet brown eyes. She was wonderful.
The Artist stood back to admire his latest masterpiece and smiled in satisfaction. It was very good.
Suddenly he gasped in surprise, for something happened! The girl in his painting.
Project FMA: A Sneak Peek
Fullmetal Alchemist - Prologue
A lesson without pain is meaningless.
Lights and shadows flicker together against cold stone walls in a terrible dance, flashing around a young boy on his hands and knees; blond hair clinging to his tearstained face, teeth clenched, palms pressed to a fading chalked diagram on the floor...
Damn it! he shouts, his voice hoarse and desperate. Alphonse! Stay with me!
He inches forward in a helpless, limping crawl, choking on pain and smoke and sizzling air
One cannot gain anything without sacrificing something in return.
Mom someone oh god... The boy sobs out unintelligible words, cursing, praying, pleading, unaware that he is crying out to someone he doesnt believe in. N-no...god, no...they took him! How did this happen...it shouldn't h-have..."
The words melt into a scream as he reaches back with a trembling hand and feels the bloody s
LoveOurs is not made of roses and candles
Or daydreams dipped in sunset's gold.
Ours is not spun of fairytale's flax
Or starry gazes to fix and hold.
For candlelight flickers and roses wither
And dreams, however sweet, will yield to dawn.
Ours is the unromantic romance.
Sprawling, stubborn, untidy,
Covered in bruises and grass stains.
A soft and subtle warmth creeps in,
To temper the rough edges.
We swallow back fear to taste the change;
And with clouts and embraces applied when necessary,
We steer our friendship into deeper waters
For ours is the journey
Comprised of pain and promises,
Tears and joys,
Reluctant realizations, awkward steps,
And a few quiet moments
To drink in the delight of
Knowing another Self.
Ours is the dance
Of blindness becoming sight,
Brokenness being healed,
Strength filling weakness;
To be forged, ever stronger, into
And ours is the mountain, firm and forever;
Standing through the storms of Summ
Let Me Save You--Winry's Song
How many times do I have to knock
Some sense into you?
How long are you going to bear
A load too heavy for you?
'Cause every ship needs a harbor
And even heroes need saving
And you're no exception
I'm here to wipe away the tears
You won't let others see
I'm here to listen to your fears
Secret though they be
When you need to, please
Come share your pain
It's okay to let it out and let it go
And if nothing else
I just want to let you know
That I'm here to be your strength
I'll let you cast out demons
If you'll let me chase away
All these ghosts that haunt your eyes
I'll let you slay the dragon
If you'll let me fight your nightmares
And sing you back to sleep
I'll let you save the world
If you'll let me save you
I'm trying to break these walls down
I want to lead you out of this labyrinth
Please don't shut the world out
Let me in, just for a moment
I'm here for you and I've been here all along
You don't have to be so strong
Let me be the one to carry
The world for once
Go on and chase
Edward Cullen vs. Edward ElricEdward vs. Edward
Once upon a blank piece of paper, two very different characters from two very different fandoms happened to bump into each other.
One was short (but don't tell him that!), had long blond hair pulled back in a braid and wore a striking red overcoat. The other was tall, bronze-haired and wore a T-shirt with "I'm 2 sexy 4 my sparklz" printed on the front. The only traits they had in common were their genders, golden eyes, first names and the utter shock of meeting each other. Both gasped dramatically, pointed a finger at the other and yelled,
"IT'S EDWARD CULLEN!"
"IT'S EDWARD ELRIC!"
After shouting the obvious truth to the world (hey, this is the realm of fan fiction! Of course they'd recognize each other right away!), the two Edwards stood in stunned silence and scrutinized each other carefully.
Wow, he really IS as short as I've heard he is... Edward Cullen mused, scratching his pale, glistening, perfectly-sculpted chin. (Twilight fangirls across