Posted in Advice, blogging, Confidence, Life Lessons, Love yourself, Memories, New Year, Self image, Speaking Out, Student, Teenager, Uncategorized, Writing

The cliche New Year blog 

Hello! I’d just like to wish all my followers and readers a Happy New Year and I hope you all had an amazing Christmas. I’m not going to make this cliche, well all know what 2016 has been a very big ,historical year there was Brexit and Trump winning the US presidential election along with a lot of celebrity deaths. However I feel like I’ve grown up this year and learnt a lot of valuable life lessons.

1.) Change happens for a reason

I know this sounds cliche but I swapped my acting hobby for writing . I never thought that I’d enjoy it but I’ve been able to create a blog , write more poetry and gain more confidence in myself as a writer. As a result I have performed my work at an open mic in my city and even got recognised for it which was lovely and I never expected it to happen.

2.) True friends will stick around

Most of my friends are older and have moved away to university. Despite not seeing eachother, we’ve still kept in touch and met up several times in the holidays. Exploring the city and adventuring into independent restaurants. We still have the bond that we did before they moved which shows that if your friends are true they’ll stick by you.

3.) The only person who decides your self worth is you

This year I have learnt to throw away the negative labels that have affected me and learnt to embrace myself.

4.) Red lipstick 

Is a girls best friend ..Bring out your inner femme fatal.

5.) Never put myself under too much pressure.

I am an A level student ,currently studying for 3 A levels. I am one of those people who revises constantly and never gives myself a break because I want to do well. Sometimes things get too much and I’ll cry over something because I’ve overworked myself. I have learnt to break my revision into 25 minute chunks ,take regular breaks , take time for myself  and don’t feel guilty about taking breaks.

6.) Confidence takes time 

Most importantly I have realised my self worth; beauty doesn’t always come in forms of aesthetic appearance but it can come in forms of intelligence,honesty,kindness,I could go on. I have realised that I am beautiful ,my imperfections are beautiful and show the wars I have battled throughout my seventeen short years. I may still have my bad days but that’s alright everyone has them and you need them to be human . I have learnt to throw the negative labels away and embrace positive ones.

Goals for 2017

Possibly make my blogs more diverse and not just poetry.

Give myself more self love;take time to relax.

Don’t doubt myself 

Say no to things that I don’t have time for.
Thank you for reading and being my followers thus far .I’ve been amazed how many likes and views I’ve had on my blog ;thank you for each and every view, comment or like it is really appreciated. If you have any things you’d like to see on my blog please let me know .

~SS

Posted in Atonement, blogging, Britishness, Creative Writing, Dead, Emotions, English Literature, Fall, Heartbreak, Literature, Remembrance, Soldier, War, Writing

March To The Cenotaph

Today I attended a remembrance service, my grandad fought in the second world war and died in August this year. My Grandad wrote poetry inspired by his experience during the war , here is  one of them.

Who are these men? These quiet men ,       Who march with their heads held high,             With the band a-playing and Standards flying,                                                                           They march so proudly by.

They march to pay their quiet respect,            To the comrades they saw die,                             Midst shot and shell at the gates of Hell,           With their utmost they did try,  To save the world for anarchy their sole and single aim     But so many stayed in foreign lands, forever to remain.

These are the men who fought in tanks ,           And are of many ranks,                                           For an Eighty-eight could see no stripe or crown,                                                                           As it brought death and horror down.

So these quite man, who march today,              And think of days gone by,                                    Will think of friends long passed away ,            And say a sad Good-bye.

Don Faulkner

48th R.I.R

Posted in blogging, Creative Writing, English Literature, Heartbreak, Literature, Love, Memories, Monologue, Poetry, Relationships, Self image, Stories, Writing

Lover at the opposite side of the road

Lover at the opposite side of the road..

God , there’s so many things I want to say to you right now.

How the sight of you makes me dizzy, makes my head spin wildly like a glitter ball on constant. Even on your darkest days or the time when you walked into the lecture hungover with a black eye I found presence beautiful like a glowing angel, my eyesight not affected by the flaws in your facial appearance.Or what other people would consider facial flaws. Like your huge forehead for instance to me ,it’s not huge, to me it shows your capacity for knowledge.

 What secrets lie inside there. What do you think when you look at me? Do you find my fried egg boob’s attractive or are you put off by the size. Do you even look there and even if or when you do you shouldn’t! It’s not gentlemanly of you. Do you ever think about me stripped naked? Would you like me to be naked in front of you , lying. Our skin pressed together , feeling our heartbeats intertwined. You skin would feel like gold to me if I ever got to brush my hand upon it once, once would be enough. Your mouth would taste like heaven sending me off to an erotic ecstasy. 

My pain would be melted away by your soothing whispers, like chocolate dripping down sealing every crack.

And when your tears hit your cheeks, they would burn my body,

 causing bullet wounds. 

I would cocoon you in my arms protecting you with my armour where nothing would enter.

When I blink you’d disappear because you’d no longer be waiting for me.I could no longer say everything I wanted to because you wouldn’t be there to listen and even if you were there to listen I probably wouldn’t be able to get the words out. 

Because I mean nothing to you..

Yet you mean everything to me.

Lover at the side of the road.

Posted in Autumn, blogging, Creative Writing, Dead, Fall, Poetry, Seasons, Weather, Writing

Dear Autumn

Light up my life,

Teach me to breathe.

Night is a blanket.

I need you to see.

Unmask the Darkness.

Cover the cold,

 Through rays of sunshine;

My eyes to behold.

Scatter the leaves, 

Into distant lands,

Majestic colours  into childrens hands.

Through  decay, keep things bright.

The night is drawing,

Out goes light.

Autumn you’re failing..

Hugging the cold.

 Daylight more precious than gold.

Autumn be Summer.

The woman of madness.

of loose morals.

of mischief.

Blooming her flowery buds.

Autumn ,

Be bright,

Be vibrant,

Be there.

Protecting your children with tender care.

Instead you rot ,

Turn brighteness to decay.

You back stabbing beast.

No one wants you to stay.

 Winter , the Ice Queen will get in your way 

The power of icicles jabbing your heart.

The frosty breath killing your soul.

Leaving a trail of death as she walks through the land.

Autumn she’ll kill you if you don’t flee.

Go..Go away now!

Go be free.

~SS

Posted in blogging, Creative Writing, Dead, Emotions, Poetry, Stories, Stress, Student, Writing

The Dance of the Dead

I saw them plastered into the wall those heads, those mouths. White eyes reflecting the rays of the sun looking at us as we entered the school gates. Sticks ,stones , old battered text books thrown at their unblinking faces. Their mouths still open as if the plaster had silenced their repeated mumbles.

They were staring at us as if they were trying to give us some message about God, or the meaning of life , or something, something which I couldn’t place my finger on.

Then the darkness came, the sun dipping like a wave , shattering everything. Their eyes blinked, a spark enlightened. The heads along with morphed bodies filled into the playground like a line of soldiers marching.

Haunting music played ,the bodied danced intertwining legs, arms, bodies tongues; In a repeated seductive whisper.

The children watched frozen like ice. Their heads tearing away from bodies, their blood pooling into a river. Eyes popping out of sockets.

The music stopped playing ,the noise ended. The heads, the bodies floated only to be muffled by concrete and dust.Voices silenced, pupils vanished.

Leaving me . Alone.

~SS

Posted in blogging, Creative Writing, Emotions, English Literature, Poetry, Stories, Stress, Student, Writers Block, Writing

Dear Writers Block

I want to know…

why; you blinded me covering my eyes with useless ideas.

Clamped my mouth stopping expression.

Shackled my mind with empty thought manacles.

I want to know why ;

You let me run with stupid nonsensical ideas.

Bringing back the nightmare of my most hated fictional character whilst having an epiphany.

Stopping me …Mid sentence .

Ideas are gold .

Once found treasured.

You stop them ..Thief.

You’re doing it again!

I was running..

Now tip-toeing over faint ideas.

Lost in a maze of jumbled thoughts. Trying to catch the words.

Tripping over them, escaping from my grasp.

Falling over full stops..

There…

Done .

Defeated.

Sorry for my unusual lack of posts, I’ve been extremely busy with coursework , various governors meetings and writers block .Also the tiredness that accompanies it. So thank you for supporting me this far. Any comments would be appreciated.

~SS

Posted in blogging, Creative Writing, Emotions, English Literature, First poem, Guilt, Poetry, Stress, Student, Writing

Invention of the mind

You’re choking me, killing me. 

I can’t hear, see, think. 
I arise to your stare. 
You’re the pang in my stomach,  throb in my head… like venom. 
You’re watching me;
 Hurling me down a spiral of self destruct.

Wrapping around my neck like a noose. 
Halting my breath;
Dragging at my feet;
A halo in reverse. 
When you seal your lips ,you haunt me in a hundred silent ways.

Your stench plummets me into darkness
The rot of animal corpses. 
Housing the souls of unwanted men. 

I’m existing in a Senseless nightmare. 
Entangled in your satanic clutches.

You’re an invention of the mind.
My mind 
A fiend. 
Yet,I cannot escape .

I’ve been so busy these past couple of days ,college work and the extended project is getting on top of me. I wrote this on my old blog it was one of the first pieces of poetry that I’d ever written and got me in to creative writing. I think my creative writing skills have come on a lot since. Please let me know your thoughts.

~SS

Posted in blogging, Cancer, Creative Writing, English Literature, Love letters, Memories, Poetry, Stories, Student, Writing

Locks on a brige

Your name engraved next to mine on the little gold lock , it’d be a good idea. That’s what you said. We attached the lock when we were both young , you seventeen , me fifteen. It was a proposal, the closest thing to one.  Cementing our love.

We were in our youth,naive .I suppose that’s the nice thing about being young, you don’t know a lot about life. Our love like a never ending summer. Cocooning us in a blanket of warmth and comfort.My berry lipstick staining your mouth and cheeks. 
The autumn walks along the barge hand in hand .Summer passing us by like floating clouds. We never wanted it to end.

In a euphoria of happiness you twirled me round and round at prom; like a disco ball.
Ten years later we got married , we’ve had a good life ,successful marriage, raised kids.

John..If you’re reading this, you know this is my note. It was the breast cancer that killed me .You were by my side every step of the way. I love you ,more than words and letters can describe.

I want you to know that in every argument you were right most of the time , even though you let me win. You let me have the best years of my life supporting me throughout. Still having our autumnal walks and kisses ; despite us being in our seventies.

I’ll still watch over you, you’ll need it . I know you’ll miss me; my cups of tea, fairy cakes ,my Sunday dinners.

We’ll be reunited.

One day.
Emma X

Hello readers sorry my blog post is a little late , I don’t think this is the best post I’ve written ; it did make me cry so I suppose that’s a good thing. I’ve been bogged down with college work lately even though it’s been my first week back.Then there’s been the university visits. This poem is pretty self explanatory inspired by some locks on a bridge I saw in Derby and party the ending to Sweet Tooth by Ian McEwan. I’d love to know your thoughts on this good, bad and what I can do to improve.
~SS