Secret Goldfish

I haven't posted anything in awhile so here's an old short story I had to write for one of my English classes back in high school. This was originally written on 4/27/08.

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“Come on, Adam! We have to get home before four or mom will go mad,” a girl said.

“I’m coming, I’m coming. I just wanted to look at something..”

           

“You’re pathetic, man. You know that we can’t have pets, so just forget it,” a boy slightly younger than the girl said.

            

The boy and girl were my sister and brother. My sister’s name was Marisa; she’s pretty bossy sometimes. She’s eleven years old and was going to be twelve in three months. My brother’s name is Dylan; he’s mean to me sometimes but my mom said that’s what older brothers did. I thought my mom was wrong, because my friend, Sam, had an older brother who was really cool and always bought me and Sam a shake whenever we went down to the Ice Cream Bar. Anyway, my brother was nine years old and he just had his birthday a month ago. He’s pretty sore about not getting a BB this year. I told him one day that I didn’t get why he’s so sore about it and he told me that I wouldn’t understand because I  was only seven.

            

We were walking home from school. It was finally the end of the school year. I just stopped in front of this one pet store that I always went into when it’s a short day for me. I only went in when I’m not with anyone in my family because they always had to remind me that I couldn't get any pets because of the cost. But I knew that someday, I would get a pet.

            

And that someday was going to be here soon. One day I walked into the store and this guy who owned the store, I think his name was Tim, came up to me. He told me how he noticed that I always came in here and looked at the animals and fish all the time. He just offered me a job here. He also told me that if I worked here, I could get myself some of my own money then I could buy anything I could afford with the money. I could get at least try to get a goldfish. I was so excited but then I remembered that I was going to be with my siblings and friends during the whole summer and would never be able to leave them. I thanked him for the offer and said I would consider it then I went home.

            

I sighed and slid my hands off the glass window after staring at a golden retriever puppy chase its tail and followed my siblings. I held onto Marisa’s hand and just stared at the sidewalk until we finally got to the front porch of our house.

Well, it’s not exactly our house. We were more like roommates in this house with this other family. This guy named Kevin and this lady called Wendy have this thirteen year old boy named Billy; I secretly called him Wet Willy Billy because of how he tortured me and Dylan with these very Wet Willies.

I went into Dylan’s room and mine and dumped my backpack onto my bed. I sighed while falling next to my backpack and just stared at the ceiling. I could hear Marisa and Dylan already arguing over something as usual.

I wish that I could get a pet. I’m tired of hearing my friends talk about their own pets. I glumly thought to myself.

The Bubble

The creative side of me has been slumbering for a few months. Then yesterday, a friend's bubble blowing activity finally woke the little poet.


Childlike and innocent,
Bubbles are blown in the air.
Then one separates, lonesome.
It floats away, shimmers fair.

My hands reach up high,
I wave them about,
Trying to keep the
Thing still hovering.

Pretending to be an Airbender,
I walk and twirl with precision
So as to not lose track of the sphere.
My hands caress it by using wind.

I wish this could go on..
Forever and ever,
But that won't be so.... no..
It's not an endeavor...

A tiny, circular object,
It is oh so frail, I know.
People chatter all around,
But I don't care, this is my show.

A simple, little sphere
Made of common hand soap,
Blown through a plain, white straw
Is my wonderful joy.

I dance and spin,
My hands move calm,
Then a bit fast.
Too fast. Sphere pops.

The circular diamond bursts
I watch it in slow motion.
Minuscule pieces of suds.
I am filled with emotion.

Then I feel my phone ring.
Time for reality.

It

Just a poem I wrote during my freshman year of high school. I was extremely bored in English since I was already done with my class assignments and such.

There is a dog named It.
When It was a pup,
You can tell It to sit.
But It would stand up.

The dog's name is It.
He may be too hairy.
But he is full of wit.
Can even steal a berry.

Dancing Through The Night

This is a poem that I wrote about five years ago. It was the first high school dance I went to. Now I only go to the dances that my church has. They're a lot more fun.

Walking through double doors.

People moving with the tune.

Bodies close together, bumping.

I get the fever super soon.

Jumping into the crowd.

I whoop and lift my arms to the air.

Moving jerkily at first.

Finally getting the moves before people stare.

Dancing through the night.

Dancing, dancing, dancing...

Oh, what a sight!

A group of girls surround me.

Pulling me through the crowd.

Teaching me how to dance perfectly.

Making people around us get wowed.

My new friends exchange names with me.

They tell me theirs while I tell them mine.

Singing loudly to a couple songs.

As we dance, we move into a single line.

Dancing through the night.

Dancing, dancing, dancing...

Oh, what a sight!

The line with front to back, back to front.

We move our hips in one single motion.

Me doing this for the first time,

Feeling like we are surrounded by an ocean.

We break apart, then dance in a full circle.

Sweat gleaming on my face.

We stop for the night, the dance ends..

We leave all together in a single pace..

Dancing through the night.

Dancing, dancing, dancing..

Dancing, dancing, dancing...

To Dad

This is dedicated to my dad whom I've rarely seen over the past few years. I hope that as you read this you'll think about the great and wonderful things your own father has done for you.


Father's day is coming up.
I refuse to think of the bad,
Wishing to only remember the good.
This is my only gift to you,
A poem of all you've done.
That didn't create harm.

Dad, you've held me as a child.
Napped with me on the old green couch.
Dad, you've spent time with me,
Whether in the garage or playing outside.
Dad, you've let me change into overalls.
So I could work with you in the garage.

For my happiness, you've shopped.
You've taken me to Toys R Us.
For my happiness, you've gotten motorcycles.
You've shown me the joy of riding.
For my happiness, you've listened.
You knew when I would want to just talk away.

Whenever I was down,
Most of the time you knew.
When I was sad,
Most of the time, you understood.
When I was angry,
Most of the time, you were careful.

For my safety, you've talked to doctors.
You were there to point out possible cures.
For my safety, you brought water with us,
Everywhere we went, you told me "Drink some water."
For my safety, you've taught me how to defend myself.
Because of you, I no longer put my thumb within my fist.

Michelle was a good stepmother.
We went riding,
Whether it was on horses or motorcycles.
Manley Street was a nice little place.
Charlie and I played with the neighborhood kids.
The tire swing was one of the best things.

When Prom came around,
You've avoided a tradition.
You didn't lecture my date,
Which I'll always be grateful of.
The poor guy was nervous as is,
You knew it would just embarrass us.

Graduation came and went,
You were there for me,
Out of the sea of blue,
You were one of the first I saw.
You were proud of me.
Proud I've worked so hard.

When I close my eyes on the eve of Father's Day,
I hope to reawaken to a fresh day.
I'll dedicate the day to you,
Despite the fact most people won't.
For you are my father. And I am your daughter.
And that will never change.

Graduating

As I heard about several of my friends graduating from high school I couldn't help remembering a poem I once wrote about my own graduation experience. I hope you enjoy it. :)


Walking with a stream of blue,
Fixing tassels and adjusting gowns,
Trying not to stumble,
My chest feels like it's bound.

Taking easy breaths,
I walk to my seat.
Now I'm in the sea.
A few people are feeling beat.

I couldn't believe it.
I'm sitting here.
Not at school.
I hold back tears.

A large part of me was sad,
But I didn't want to show it.
So I kept on smiling,
But it may have shown a little bit.

I walk with the line,
Hearing my named get called.
I carefully walk on the steps,
Trying not to fall.

My family is screaming and waving,
Trying to get my attention.
I finally spot them.
But I had to sit from the tension.

My hat becomes one of the many,
Soaring into the air,
Like how I wanted to be.
It just didn't seem fair.

Later I cheered up quite a bit,
Hugging family and friends of mine,
This has been a long year,
I am part of the class of two thousand and nine.

Black Dress

Mommy and Gramma helped,
To get me ready for the night.
I put make-up on and dressed up.
I was such a pretty and cute sight.


An ankle-long black dress.
Covered with silver sparkles.
The same sparkles on black shoes,
All over, even on the buckles.


My nails had decorations too.
Purple, silver and black confetti.
My skin was covered with glitter.
Dressed up, I was so ready.

I could hardly wait for the night.

Daddy and me, dancing together.

Nobody else, just me and him.

We barely spent time with each other.

Before this, I was unsure about him.

Now I knew he was truly glad.

He was going to dance with me.

He was proud to be my dad.

Now things have changed.

It's been left in the past.

Will never do it again.

I wish it could have last.

Farewell

Two years younger than me,

Small bodied, blonde hair,

One big ear, one little.

Why'd you go? It's not fair.

We've had our ups and downs,

As kids, we have fought a lot.

You stood on your toes,

To be bigger than we thought.

You used to clench your fists,

Your arms snapped to your sides,

And you just stood your ground.

Against us older kids.

We've made you laugh,

We've made you cry.

We've hurt you by mistake,

Why did you have to die?

You have gone through a lot.

Operation after operation.

Tease after tease.

You deserve a standing ovation.

There were good times too.

The many class field trips.

The fun with old teachers,

The memories I'll never rip.

I remember how you cried,

Sometimes when you were sad,

Some of us would be there.

We would try and make you glad.

Why did you have to go now?

We'll pray for your family and you,

We miss you a lot already.

You were a good person, it's true.

You are in a better place.

Farewell, classmate.. and friend,

We will never forget you.

Your life is just about to begin.

Anxiety

This was written around March of 2009..

I have done everything,
All that could help me.
But, it is still there.
My heart wants to flee.

There seems to be no escape,
Claustrophobia takes over.
I can hardly breathe,
As if my body smothers.

I read, write and sing.
I dream, walk and run.
I shout, cry and whimper.
But it still burns like the sun.

I huddle in a corner,
Not knowing what to do.
I can't reveal my feelings.
I can't say, "I missed you."

If I say these words to him,
All will crumble between us.
My mask of not noticing.
It shouldn't be lifted, thus.

Maybe that isn't it.
Maybe it is school.
In my mind, I see this:
Homework, deep as a four foot pool.

And yet, not much homework.
I shouldn't be stressed.
But another thought comes,
The same recurring guess.

This guess is about something.
I guess I should continue.
Or maybe change it up a bit.
I shake at the future view.

Anxiety, which is misplaced.
It goes away at certain times,
It is a mystery to me.
I can't clear it, even with a rhyme.

Yes, I am feeling anxiety.
For what? May never know.
It won't leave sometimes.
I wish it will just go!

This is the fire,
Creating a mental pain.
I am doing everything.
Just to stay sane.

Endless

One could go all year without ever revealing their secret devotion to another.
One could get out and talk to the other and let a friendship grow.
One could hide from all the dangers and miss all the good things of life.
One could be with their family and loved ones and just let things flow.
One could be ignorant and stay that way all their life but find no satisfaction.
One could study and learn new things each day to see how things go.
One could ignore the signs of flirtation from another person and just move on.
One could open their eyes and find out that they like the other enough to tie the bow.
One could also notice the flirtations and just ignore it since they've already got another.
One could watch the moon and wonder what's on it.
One could fly on a rocket to the moon and find yourself on Pluto.
One could discover that these possibilities really are endless.

Every Wind

Every wind... Needs a forest.
To rush... All the leaves.
To morph... All the trees.


Every wind... Needs a mountain.
To move... the sand.
To change... the land.


Every soul... Needs a friend.
To carry them... To the end.
To cheer them up... When they're down.


Every soul... Needs some light.
To guide them through... When they're lost.
To show the truth... When it's hidden.


Every love... Conquers all.
To feel the joy... To feel the power!
You never know... 'Til it strikes you!


Every wind... Changes moods.
Of each season... Through each year.
Every wind... Lives forever.


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Ok, I gotta admit that I heard most of this in a dream.
I still wanted to post it though. Is the "..." too much?

Fast Forward

A child crawls underneath soft blankets,

Wraps herself into a safe little cocoon.

She giggles and curls into a tight ball,

Safe in her homemade womb.

As time passes by, she grows sore,

She emerges headfirst into the light,

The brightness shines on her face,

Opening up a whole new sight.

A child, she no longer is,

Now, filled with confusion, she’s a teen.

No longer able to hide in a cocoon,

Truly learning, now she is freed.

Life always catches up to the girl,

Making her fall back but gains strength.

She fights to keep living, unwilling to give up.

There’s a brighter light at the end of this length.

Emotions get the best of her,

Leaving her frustrated and wanting to scream.

But she learns to give it up, knowing it’ll pass.

It’s not as bad as it really seems.

Entering the twenties, life gets more twisted,

More influences get introduced to the girl,

Shields some and absorbs the rest.

Jobs, love and family, her third life.

A rose stands idly in a patch of daisies,

People pass by it, without a second glance.

Nobody plucks it, nobody spots it.

Nobody gives the rose a single chance.

The rose wilts and petals fall,

One by one, they fall to the ground.

Soar

Each time I pick up this guitar,

I experience a joy beyond measure.

I carefully pluck each string,

treating each sound like a treasure.

Gradually, I pick up the pace.

Speeding up, creating a melody.

Stumbling here and there, still learning.

While playing, I feel serenity.

I pick at more strings, tap a few beats,

changing techniques, and following my heart.

Exploration is my middle name, it's what I do.

This is something that can never be torn apart.

I may not know the chords,

I may not know the beats.

But what I do know is this,

This guitar is sweet.

I've moved from instrument to instrument,

I've done drums, piano, recorder and guitar.

I can't play most music, haven't gotten many lessons.

The recorder is the only one I really know so far.

I've visited the drums a few times,

Got the beat, learned the rhythm.

Although, I just can't truly feel it. It's not me.

But Ringo Starr certainly has it with him.

I know a few keys on the piano,

Can't play a true full song,

But I can sing while playing,

And yet it still feels wrong.

I've played the recorder as a child,

I have three years of practice as proof,

but sometimes it just feels like a chore.

The recorder doesn't make me feel very aloof.

So, here I sit, with this guitar, strumming notes.

I can play forever without knowing the time.

I just get mesmerized by the sweet sounds.

While playing, I've come up with this rhyme.

"As long as I play this guitar,

the world no longer matters to me.

It's just me and this wooden instrument.

Creating my own little melodies."

Sometimes I like to mimic other players,

Attempt to play their songs,

But I still don't know the notes,

I play by sound, but not for long.

Someday, I'll learn all the chords,

With more practice, I'm sure I can play.

This little wooden friend, this guitar,

It won't be going anywhere; it's here to stay.

The feeling is almost unexplainable.

Each time I play.. My spirit begins to soar.

Everything disappears; it's just me and this guitar.

That's what this poem is for.