Sitting in My Room
Sitting in my room,
Watching the sun fill the sky,
My heart starts to fly.
How to Daydream
Before I begin I would just like to say that day dreaming is something that should not be taken lightly, and should not be tried at home without adult supervision. The definition of day dreaming is, well, self-explanatory, dreaming without sleeping. Day dreaming should only be done in a class with a REALLY boring teacher. This teacher needs to be so boring that even doodling won’t help the boringness. Once you get to that point, you have to start dozing off into a kind of trance. Just think about things you’ve always wanted to do or wrack your brain for memories that make you laugh, and just imagine being back in that moment or in your new moment. Once you’ve got something in your head, let your mind go wild and free. See! Simple right? So the next time you’re in a boring class, let your mind roam free in your brain and just daydream.
She’s Like the Wind
She’s like the wind.
She’s like a bracelet.
She’s like a beaded necklace.
She’s like Shrek.
She’s like an O’Neill belt.
She’s like a bus’ up backpack.
She’s like the drive to Haleakala Summit.
She’s like the old Chevy truck in my driveway.
She’s like my Van’s shoes.
She’s like the ocean blue.
She’s my best friend.
I Died for Him
I died for him,
That man I loved,
My heart stings,
To the heaven’s above.
That man I loved,
He made my heart race,
To the heaven’s above,
I am but a face.
He made my heart race,
That night on the hill,
I am but another face,
Someone had to kill.
That night on the hill,
In the mist of the darkness,
Someone had to kill
Just for the thrill.
In the mist of the darkness,
My heart stings,
Just for the thrill,
I died for him.
My mind swirled as my forehead bashed into the corner of the dining room table. My eyes struggled to look at the man standing in front of me, I opened my mouth to speak, but as I did a fist slammed into my right cheek, and my world went black.
When I awoke I was on a beach tanning in the beaming rays of the Maui sun. My iPod playing some Lady Antebellum, and my body soaking in all the vitamin D the sun had to offer. I sat up to put on another layer of sunscreen when I saw him, broad shoulders, short brown hair, and the most gorgeous smile. I quickly turned my head, hoping that he wouldn’t notice me, but it was too late, his beautiful tan body was jogging towards me, he was dripping with sweat, and I could hear the music from his iPod blaring through his ear phones.
He handed me a woven hat and said,
“I think this blew away from you.”
I stared awkwardly at the hat knowing that I would NEVER own anything like that.
“Um, that’s not mine,” I managed to get out.
A grin started to appear on his face as he said,
“Yeah, I knew that. I just wanted an excuse to talk to you.”
I could feel my heart pulsing through my whole body, but I had to tell myself to just stay calm. He was just another boy, plus I’d never even met him before. So I asked if he wanted to sit down, and he said sure.
I learned that his name was Kamaka. We sat on the beach until sunset and just talked about our life, and about how I had just moved from Idaho to Hawai’i, and how he had lived on his own since he was 16 because his parents had died. I never thought I would get to know someone so well in just a couple of hours.
When the sun touched the horizon, I got up and exchanged numbers with him and promised to call him tomorrow. We hung out for a few months after that, but he suddenly stopped calling and coming over. My heart yearned for him to come back, but he never did.
Over ten years passed and the remembrance of that fling still lingered in my heart. As my head began to hurt, I could feel myself drifting back into reality. I wish I could have stayed in that moment forever, but disappointment welled within me as I started to see my home, my family portrait, and me with my husband.
Then I reached up to the top of my head and before I even touched it, I could smell the rusty stench of blood, and then I felt the slimy textured liquid. I heard the snoring and saw him upon the couch with a swelled up fist, not Kamaka, but HIM.
The Reason I Could…
I could clean by bedroom,
but then my mom would just say it isn’t clean enough.
I could write that essay for English,
but then my teacher is just going to throw it away.
I could wash the dishes in the sink,
but then my fingers would get wrinkly.
I could tell my sister sorry,
but then I’d have to mean it.
I could stop texting all night,
but then I’d have nothing to do.
So you see I could do whatever I wanted,
but I’d rather just do nothing.
The Lady and the Cow
I once met this gal from Tahiti
She’s tiny and real itty-bitty
She sat on a cow
It yelped with an OW!
And that cow is now filled with self pity.
One Fateful Night
I was sitting in my room with the lights off, only letting the dim light of the sun illuminate my bedroom. I sat in my huge stained sofa staring at the picture of Sophie. Her beautiful brown hair that just barely reached her waist, the graceful way her head tilted just perfectly in the sunlight, and her hazel eyes that stared straight from the picture, and into my soul.
Then I grabbed the tiny mirror that was sitting at the edge of my bed and looked at myself in the mirror. My lanky black hair, and the way my body looked so ungraceful no matter what I did. I could feel the tears coming to my eyes as I stared at myself, wishing that I could look like her, wishing that I could be her, with her popularity, her beauty, and her bubbly personality.
Sophie was someone that everyone in school envied, she was so kind to everyone she met, and she never put anyone down. She always had this huge smile plastered on her face; she had the life that everyone wanted. Or the life people thought they wanted.
In reality Sophie was hurt on the inside, she never really had anyone to look up to, her mom left when she was little and her dad works so much that he is rarely ever home. She has no brothers and sisters, and had no relatives near her, but she is nice to everyone because she doesn’t want them to feel like she does. But all of that changed on one fateful night.
She and some friends had gone to a party in the lake area and were excited to be hitting the first party of spring break. She met up with this guy Wade who was in her English class, he handed her a soda and they hung out.
After a while she felt tired and decided to crash in one of the many rooms at this house, so she made her way upstairs so she could sleep and wait for her friends. When she got up there Wade was sitting on the bed, he said he was going to sleep and that she could join him, so thinking nothing of it, she climbed into the bed. But just as she was about to close her eyes she felt a hand touch her leg and then everything around her went blank.
When she got home she looked at herself in the mirror, and cried her eyes out. I will never forget that night when I lost my pride, my dignity and the life I used to have. My name is Sophie Kale, and I was date raped at a house party.
Introduction from “Recollection of First Grade”
Mrs. Motooka was my first grade teacher, she was tall, had bulging blue eyes, and gigantic glasses that took up her whole face. She was kind and became one of my favorite teachers I ever had. But one day I saw a side of Mrs. Motooka that I would never want to see again.
My friend Ricky was tall, lanky, had two silver caps on his top front teeth, and was known for being a prankster. So one day Ricky and I were talking about having a bathroom-wet-paper-throwing contest. Of course being in first grade I didn’t think anything of it, so I said yes. We got a couple of our other classmates to join in, and waited for precisely the right moment. We waited until the day Mrs. Motooka had a substitute filling in for her…
Paris, France, is my favorite place to be. Here I can see the lights of Paris as bright as the sun shining off of a bald man’s head, the Eiffel tower as lonely as a widowed and childless old man, and the people of Paris as plentiful as weeds being sprayed with a growth serum. I can hear blaring car horns, harmonious music, and eloquent French speakers. I can feel the smooth material of chiffon dresses, a warm flaky crescent melting in my mouth, and rough painting marks where the artist added a new layer of pain to an empty canvas. While I gaze from the top of the Eiffel tower I can see, I can hear, I can feel in my favorite place, Paris.
I had a giraffe, who didn’t like baths,
He was very lazy and had an irritating laugh;
One day he scared with such a fright,
That I just wanted to eat him in one big bite!
I Never Meant to Hurt Him
I never meant to hurt him,
Or tear him limb from limb,
Please, master, forgive me,
For this evil sin,
But he was just sitting there,
In the corner frail and old,
My eyes were covered by fog,
And I am only just a dog.
It All Started in August
It all started some months ago when she got the news. She just finished her junior year of high school and was ready to experience life as a senior. She was ready to apply for colleges and get out of our little town. But on that beautiful sunny day in August, she got a surprise she never expected. Although I couldn’t see her, I could hear her talking to a boy that would become a very familiar voice. She asked him,
“How could this happen to us?”
“I don’t know.” He replied
“What are we going to do?” she asked
“I don’t know.” He said again
That night I heard her sobbing to herself saying things like, I can’t do this, and I can’t handle this, it’s too much. I could tell she wanted to just give up, just drop out of high school and go do something else with her life. I could hear her talking to her friends every once and a while about how much she wished things were different, but she stuck through everything and made it to the wonderful month of May. This was a day she thought she would never see, the day she graduated from high school. She finished her SAT’s in the top 25 of her class, and was accepted to the local university to study nursing. The principal had just called out her name,
I felt her get up and walk towards what I’m guessing was the stage. I heard her whisper thank you to the principal and then there was screaming. I could hear the sound of people cheering and the sound of people clapping. I fell asleep and the next thing I heard was pounding music and I felt myself moving. I’m guessing this was her project graduation. Then all of a sudden I heard someone scream and shout,
“There’s water on the floor!”
Then I remember feeling like I was falling and then lying down. I opened my eyes for the first time and remember seeing a bright light and then a beautiful face. As soon as she spoke to me I knew it was her, the woman that had been carrying me for nine months. I was so glad that she hadn’t given me away, after everything she’d been through. Then I saw him the man who had stuck by her side through the entire pregnancy, my father. At that very moment I felt so lucky to have these people as my parents.
Longing for a Life
The bloody candy bar lay right against the baby’s car seat, waiting for a pair of tiny hands to clinch it and devour it whole. But nothing happens, there are no sounds, no image, nothing, yet the silence seemed to be blaring like a KISS concert. Then reality hits in and the sounds of screaming bystanders and police sirens fill the air. As people run towards the overturned vehicle they watch in horror as firemen attempt to bring the driver out of the seat with the Jaws of Life. Police block the crime scene and hold back the on-growing crowd that starts to fill the street. Then the sound of metal breaking is heard and the driver is pulled out from the car, unconscious and covered in glass and blood.
The driver is a familiar-looking woman who seems to be middle aged and has her hair in a bun, as she is put on the stretcher, a screeching voice is heard from a bystander in the front row, “Good Gosh! There’s another person in the car!”
The paramedics take the woman as the firemen rush towards the vehicle, and as the bystander said there was another body in the vehicle. Just then the people saw a hand dangling outside of the cracked window barely touching the ground. As the two firemen get closer, they look at each other in horror, but try not to show it because the other passenger in the car is a little boy. He looks to be no older then the age of five and was not seen earlier because he had fallen out of his car seat. His body lay curled up in a ball, on the concrete road. The firemen pull the little boy out of the car and put him on a stretcher where another pair of paramedics rushes him into an ambulance and head to the hospital. While all the bystanders began to scatter I noticed a little hand reach out and grab the candy bar. It was the little boy that was just put into the ambulance truck, and now he looked perfectly fine and happy with his candy bar. I tried to tell the woman standing next to me what I was seeing but she just ignored me, so I tried the middle-aged man that was on the other side of me, but he ignored me too.
I thought to myself, “Good Gosh! People are being very rude.”
Then everything came rushing back to me, I was in a hurry to get to work and ran a red light; then everything went blank and the next thing I notice are all these people and commotion. Good gosh, how could I not know the face of my own son? More so, how could I not know my own face? How could I not remember what had just happened? But as I did, I began to feel guilt wash over me, then I remember the quote I had once heard on a television show, “People love someone who can rise from the ashes” (Whitey Durham). So, I walk towards my son, grab his chocolaty little hand and walk into the sunset and into a better place.
Slipping on My Headphones
Slipping on my headphones
Waiting for the piano to start,
Then waiting to hear the melodic voice of Katy Perry,
Listening to her multifaceted lyrics
Taking me back to the summer I broke through to myself,
Easy-going summer breeze,
Sounds of the waves crashing to the shore,
Sitting on the back lanai,
With a pen in hand,
And words rolling through my mind effortlessly,
Reminding me that writing is mundane,
Slip on my headphones once again,
Listen to the music,
Grab a pen and notebook,
And write away.
My Writing Philosophy
Writing is only as hard as you make it.