Limbs shaking
I cling to the face of a cliff An endless sky above me And a long, long way to fall. Did I really climb all this way? Will I ever reach the top? Some people are above me Soem below Some climb quickly Strong and steady. I am not like them I am gasping for breath Fingers stiff and sore from holding on too long But I can't climb down I won't Not after I've come all this way So I begin to climb Slowly Unsteadily Hoping it's worth it. I'm tired. Glad I'm doing this, though. I don't think I'll see any improvement for a while, but I'm happy to be writing again. Even if it is just a few poems. -Atlas
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I failed.
So what? I can't find the answers I'm looking for. If they exist anywhere It is most certainly not In me. So what? I have no idea what I'm doing. So what? You live. No one has all the answers. No one gets it right all the time Or even knows what 'right' really is. We all just live. Hit a bit of a creative speed bump. (Woo.) Enjoy yet another poem. -Atlas And for once there is no bitter aftertaste.
The voice in the back of your head is quiet. It's a Sunday morning And you're surrounded by the people you love. Warm light streams through the window. Somewhere, a bird is singing. Things Are Okay. Seriously though why are there so many unhappy poems? (Sorry I'm just writing short poems lately. I need to be better about that.) -Atlas Sometimes you have to lean
Into the uncertainty Hoping against hope that Just this once Things might be better Than they seem (And sometimes they are) Even if I'm too tired to write a lot... this is better than nothing, right? It's more than what I've been doing for a long time. -Atlas As I slog through
The familiar rhythms Of a day Part of me realizes That someday These moments will be the most precious thing I have And I'm missing them. Hey, look! Another poem. Woo -Atlas I wonder
How much of you was left In the boxes you so clung to. If your laugh Was trapped in the curtains If the piano still sang of you And if it remembered where you sat How your fingers touched the keys. Everything in the room whispers of You, you, you But you're not here And this place is full of ghosts. Again, I didn't have whole lot of time so here's another poem. -Atlas I don't think you ever realized you were brave.
Not when you draped a snake around your neck at a petting zoo Or picked up bugs and carried them outside. Chairs and boxes stacked on top of each other To reach the highest shelf. When you stumbled (As you often did) You picked yourself right up again And kept going Over And Over Again. Because to you the world was full of wonder. You were taught To be afraid. Not a whole lot of time to write today, so I just wrote a poem. -Atlas (cont.)
Somewhere on her ship, her Anomaly Proximity Alert (APA) was blaring. It must have gotten scrambled during the crash, too. Figures. She took a deep breath. Maybe something was just causing interference. The asteroid looked like it was made of a strange metal—maybe that was why a signal couldn’t get out. Could she leave the asteroid? Not without a way to get back to her ship—or a way to bring her ship with her. Repairing her ship seemed to be her best bet. Alexa was no mechanic, but there were operating manuals stashed in the cockpit of her ship. She wouldn’t get very far without a real mechanic, but hopefully she’d get far enough away from the source of the interference to call for help. A continuation of yesterday's short story. My goal so far is to write at least a hundred words a day. Let's see how that works out. -Atlas Static.
Again. Alexa cursed and shoved the small radio away from her, raising her eyes to the heavens. Please don’t let me die on this godforsaken asteroid. I’ll never be rude or mean to anyone again, I promise. Well. She’d try. It was the thought that counted, right? It was supposed to be a regular mission. Sweep the quadrant for space-time anomalies, report back to HQ. She’d pretty much memorized Devin’s ‘DON’T ENGAGE AN ANOMALY’ spiel by now. “If you see one, get out of there and call for an enforcer. If you fight it, you will die.” Cheerful stuff, right? She’d never seen an anomaly before, though she desperately wanted to. (Teleportation? Time loops? How cool was that?) Devin said there’d be a good chance she’d run into one on this sweep—but nooo, her ship just had to break down in the middle of nowhere. She’d barely managed to land it on a nearby asteroid before the engines gave out. And now she couldn’t even call for help. Friggin’ perfect. Devin was never going to let her hear the end of this. I tried to write something short, but the story seems to be longer than I thought (I was thinking something of about this length, but apparently this is just the beginning. A very, very bad and unedited beginning, but a beginning nonetheless. Will I continue it? Who knows!) The prompt I used for this was 'white noise.' -Atlas If words are a well
I have run dry. Maybe if I stare at the page long enough Something will happen. Well, I guess I won't be writing any stories today. I tried. I just... I don't know how. To write, you need characters. Plot. Setting. I have none of these. I don't even know where to begin. Maybe I'm limiting myself too much in the brainstorming phase. Maybe I should just come up with all the stupid ideas I can and just roll with them. Writing is writing, after all. One thing I've noticed in my writing is that I tend to swing back and forth from extremes very quickly. I sort of try to shove emotions onto the reader, hoping for a response. I don't really know what to do about it, other than to just practice (but how?? I have no idea where to start when it comes to writing stories--even short ones.) Bleh. Writing is hard. If I can't write stories, I will write something else. But gosh darn it, I'm going to WRITE. -Atlas |
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