I'm an avid fiction/poetry writer, just thought I'd share some of the poems I've written throughout the years. 
Enjoy!
Anyway, these are three examples of my work. Constructive criticism/opinions are always welcome!
Hope you enjoyed,
- Val
Enjoy!
~~~~~~~~~~Poetry~~~~~~~~~~
Style: Villanelle
Written: 2006 (poetry assignment for school)
Written: 2006 (poetry assignment for school)
A Lonely Winter's Night
A single snowflake tumbles to the ground
Along an unknown path
The still and sombre world devoid of sound
Impenetrable darkness all around
Below a sheet of black
A single snowflake tumbles to the ground
In dark of night where light cannot be found
All light has turned its back
The still and sombre world devoid of sound
The stars have gone, and with them souls have drowned
For life this night does lack
A single snowflake tumbles to the ground
The silence rests with person, cat and hound
Accustomed to attack
The still and sombre world devoid of sound
So softly does the gentle wind surround
This place so drenched in black
A single snowflake tumbles to the ground
The still and sombre world devoid of sound.
A single snowflake tumbles to the ground
Along an unknown path
The still and sombre world devoid of sound
Impenetrable darkness all around
Below a sheet of black
A single snowflake tumbles to the ground
In dark of night where light cannot be found
All light has turned its back
The still and sombre world devoid of sound
The stars have gone, and with them souls have drowned
For life this night does lack
A single snowflake tumbles to the ground
The silence rests with person, cat and hound
Accustomed to attack
The still and sombre world devoid of sound
So softly does the gentle wind surround
This place so drenched in black
A single snowflake tumbles to the ground
The still and sombre world devoid of sound.
Style: Villanelle
Written: 2005 (poetry club)
Written: 2005 (poetry club)
Insane
I stand alone in the pouring rain
Painful tears wash down my face
Is this what it's like to be insane?
My heart will break under all this strain
I have no one to embrace
I stand alone in the pouring rain
A single thing of you will remain
Memories I can't erase
Is this what it's like to be insane?
Fate has chosen, it's me he has slain
For you I cannot replace
I stand alone in the pouring rain
My soul will forever ache in pain
Trapped in its unyielding case
Is this what it's like to be insane?
This life I can no longer maintain
It's clear that I've lost the race
I stand alone in the pouring rain
Is this what it's like to be insane?
I stand alone in the pouring rain
Painful tears wash down my face
Is this what it's like to be insane?
My heart will break under all this strain
I have no one to embrace
I stand alone in the pouring rain
A single thing of you will remain
Memories I can't erase
Is this what it's like to be insane?
Fate has chosen, it's me he has slain
For you I cannot replace
I stand alone in the pouring rain
My soul will forever ache in pain
Trapped in its unyielding case
Is this what it's like to be insane?
This life I can no longer maintain
It's clear that I've lost the race
I stand alone in the pouring rain
Is this what it's like to be insane?
~~~~~~~~~~Prose~~~~~~~~~~
Genre: Non-fiction
Inspiration: Writing about reading a paper note from someone who used to be a close friend of mine.
Written: 2008.
It was nothing more than a sheet of paper, folds made permanent from having been kept folded in a tiny square shape over the years.
She unfolded it carefully, cautiously pulling at the brittle material in the hopes that it would not rip. With success she managed to unfold the tiny square, and gently smoothed the crumpled sheet out on the desk in front of her.
The sight of the writing hit her like a physical blow. Even now, years later, she could recognize the handwriting instantaneously, picture each letter being written with care. So long had it been since she had glimpsed such handwriting; so much time had passed since she had last read anything from her, or even seen her for that matter.
She swallowed hard, and continued.
Tears began to stab at her eyes halfway through reading the markings etched onto the paper, the sheet of looseleaf that had once been nothing more than that, but was now, in fact, so much more. She silently wished for that bit of the past, for what she had been so immature to have taken for granted, for what she had never imagined leaving her. Ever.
She couldn't resist a faint smile as her eyes took in the last few words, those few words that had been so often repeated, but had never been and could never be said enough. What she wouldn't give for a moment in the past, to figure out whatever the problem had been, and to fix it.
Sadly, there was no Harry Potter in the real world. One could not obtain a time turner and go back to screw around with fate for a more desirable outcome in life.
So she had no choice but to accept what was done, just as any other. She had no choice but to cope, just as any other.
However, a smile brushed her lips. She was one of the fortunate ones; for, unlike many others who had been left in the present alone, she had a link to the past. She always would.
She gazed down at the paper in quiet reminiscence. Slowly, she refolded the sheet back into its former state. She brushed over the surface of the square with her fingertips, feeling; remembering.
A soft sigh escaped her lips as she pulled herself up from her chair. She gently took the square from the desk and placed it back onto the topmost shelf in the corner of her room, where she knew it would always be.
To anyone else in the world, it was just a piece of paper. It was a sheet of looseleaf with words, and nothing more.
But she knew better; it was much, much more.
Inspiration: Writing about reading a paper note from someone who used to be a close friend of mine.
Written: 2008.
-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-
Paper.It was nothing more than a sheet of paper, folds made permanent from having been kept folded in a tiny square shape over the years.
She unfolded it carefully, cautiously pulling at the brittle material in the hopes that it would not rip. With success she managed to unfold the tiny square, and gently smoothed the crumpled sheet out on the desk in front of her.
The sight of the writing hit her like a physical blow. Even now, years later, she could recognize the handwriting instantaneously, picture each letter being written with care. So long had it been since she had glimpsed such handwriting; so much time had passed since she had last read anything from her, or even seen her for that matter.
She swallowed hard, and continued.
Tears began to stab at her eyes halfway through reading the markings etched onto the paper, the sheet of looseleaf that had once been nothing more than that, but was now, in fact, so much more. She silently wished for that bit of the past, for what she had been so immature to have taken for granted, for what she had never imagined leaving her. Ever.
She couldn't resist a faint smile as her eyes took in the last few words, those few words that had been so often repeated, but had never been and could never be said enough. What she wouldn't give for a moment in the past, to figure out whatever the problem had been, and to fix it.
Sadly, there was no Harry Potter in the real world. One could not obtain a time turner and go back to screw around with fate for a more desirable outcome in life.
So she had no choice but to accept what was done, just as any other. She had no choice but to cope, just as any other.
However, a smile brushed her lips. She was one of the fortunate ones; for, unlike many others who had been left in the present alone, she had a link to the past. She always would.
She gazed down at the paper in quiet reminiscence. Slowly, she refolded the sheet back into its former state. She brushed over the surface of the square with her fingertips, feeling; remembering.
A soft sigh escaped her lips as she pulled herself up from her chair. She gently took the square from the desk and placed it back onto the topmost shelf in the corner of her room, where she knew it would always be.
To anyone else in the world, it was just a piece of paper. It was a sheet of looseleaf with words, and nothing more.
But she knew better; it was much, much more.
-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-
Anyway, these are three examples of my work.
Constructive criticism/opinions are always welcome! Hope you enjoyed,
- Val
