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  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    She'll drink orange juice before apple. Have a Sprite before a Snapple. Take science over spelling, and listening before telling. She'll tick if I talk and ride when I walk. But that's just the kind or girl she is. This girl I love to call my best friend. It's cliche to say we&#...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    I’m waltzing with a stranger in an old ballroom. His arms wrapped around me I’m stuck to him like glue. There’s a mirror ten foot, covers the side of the wall. I watch everything we do, the climbs and the falls. When we move to the left, I slide down on my feet. The stranger picks me up w...
  • Fiction > Realistic Fiction
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    Dear Melinda, As I write this letter, I really want to ask you why you missed Rossi’s party. But if I did I’d sound stupid only because you’ve told me 1,00 times that you’re going to the lake and can’t do anything to get out of it. I was going to call you and tell you about the party ...
  • Fiction > Realistic Fiction
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    A girl once told me, the yellow lines in the middle of the road were to keep you from going to a different world. I doubted her. But I wonder if it’s true: The best reason I ever heard for a superstitious child on why not to cross the lines. So I was driving back home that day. I couldn’t help b...
  • Poetry > Limerick
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    So if I stand here in this rainstorm any longer, will you wonder where I am? If I didn’t say a word, now, just shiver and stand. If it matters to you now that I have no umbrella or shoes, as I wait here on the corner for the ol’ painters muse. Your old, Mazda SUV is what I long to see. But I w...
  • Poetry > Limerick
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    I don't have an ego problem I'm just a handsome dude I can drive fast cars, and even pigeon shoot I am James Bond and Brad Pitt all in one I'm just your all round perfect guy, the original sun of a gun. I have a sweet personality, and can dance like Derreck Hough, My skin has not...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    He spoke only to her, not to me. But occasional glances filled me with glee. She looked over her shoulder at my once smiling face. And she tussled with his brown hair much to my disgrace. He put his hand up to give her a five; I turned and felt as if I shouldn’t be alive. But, by the time my hand ...
  • Nonfiction > Personal Experience
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    You weren’t part of the list I drew up when I was 13. It had everything, the colours, lights, bridesmaid, the place and the guy. Blonde hair, tanned skin, 5’2, and rode an expensive bicycle was perfect. The perfect guy. Or at least what I thought was perfect at the time. He existed, the g...

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