The Bus Ride Home (78 Words)

The Bus Ride Home (78 Words)

Ravyn White

May 24th, 2012

I got on the bus, a bus to anywhere. Where was I going I don’t know wherever this bus would take me I’d go. Just away, gone. Out of this world, out of this nightmare, out of this hell. To a place where I’m happy again place where I am whole. A place where my family is; a place where he is. My love, my angel, my Graham. That’s where I’m destined, that’s where I’m headed, my home.

Linda

Linda

Ravyn White

03/26/12

Grandmother with her flowy silver locks

as free in nature as she was

riding smoothly on her beloved motorcycle

my sweet soft spoken grandmother

all suited up jacket, helmet, hard core bike

off on a long journey

on a long black road

destiny awaited her

unexpectantly crashed

hospital bed

laid my sweet grandmother

eyes shut, motionless

no tears, no fears

just still and quiet

waiting

and

then

gone

Hope, the Foolish Child

Hope, the Foolish Child
Sarah Siders


The child, Hope, is unrelenting in optimism;
Wakes up and says, “Today’s the day”, every day,
Even though It hasn’t happened yet.
With odds against the whole thing,
Hope seems blind to reality.
A starving Pollyanna,
Hope is a survivalist.
In a concentration camp of pain,
Hope is a finger of grass, poking through the asphalt.

Sometimes you want to strangle her neck,
Silence this thing that seems only to bring disappointment.
But she walks blindly, dodging death and famine,
Evading what seems to be true,
Believing in something that is nowhere in sight.

What shall I do with Hope, this child I can’t stop feeding?
I want to kill her, but she says the sweetest things.
She knows my desire,
Keeps telling me it’s coming, it’s coming.
I start to think she might be a liar.
And just when I’m about to stop standing there like a fool,
Hand over my eyes,
Staring into that thin horizon line,
Just then she points, shouts,
“Here It comes!”
I squint into the light and sure enough,
Here comes my Longing.
I reach over to hug Hope, that bouncing child.
But she’s gone,
Gone to lay claim to a new desire.

I wonder,
What if I’d given her up?
What if I’d sold her for a clever book title,
Something for the cynics’ best seller list?
What if I’d held her down and shut her up,
Put my hand over her mouth and made her quiet for good?
Disappointment would have moved in.
Skepticism would have been my neighbor,
Resentment shacked up on the couch.
I wouldn’t have been at the end of the drive that day.
I would have missed my Longing as It rode by.
My Cynicism proven right,
I would have looked haughtily from my balcony,
Confident my Self-Righteousness saved me much wasted time.
I would never have known.
I would’ve been right, sort of, but I would have never held Joy.

I thought of all these things.
And then I stood there one more day,
Stood waiting with Hope, holding her tiny hand.
I was there when the Longing came by.
I welcomed the Longing, gladly,
Snatched It up and planted It in the yard:
A Tree of Life for all to see.
A Tree of Life to remind me.

For those who will wait,
Who believe enough to stand out in all that weather:
She does not lie.
No, and Hope does not disappoint.

InkWell Showcase

Hello fellow writers,


I would like this blog to be a place to showcase our projects in the days that follow, so please feel free to email me anything you would like posted and I would be delighted to put it up, homework or no. :)
This being said; you may remember my assignment from our first meeting, if not, the link is below. I would like to challenge you to complete this mini project, partly because I had great fun writing mine, but also because I think it is a good exorcise for your creative writing muscles.
I'm looking forward to getting to know you all through your writing.


Yours, 
Gabriel
alovesickman@gmail.com


Our assignment:
http://www.facebook.com/groups/inkwellmanhattan/doc/432605053417031/


My finished product:


An Angel Lost
Gabriel White
May 24, 2012


He saw her first whilst walking through the woods behind his house. Her hair was fire, and her form flitted between the autumn trees with transcendent grace. Her radiant eyes haunted his dreams ever after. Soon, sleepless nights followed weary days as he endlessly sought her amongst the falling leaves and the shifting snow. As the years passed, he became a skeleton, then a shadow. In final fleeting thoughts he realized his folly. 
His angel was a sunbeam.