Poetry

I write poetry and songs too! Let me know if you want to read some!

5th house on the corner

I am not sure if I am going to continue this story, but here it is:

“It was such a pleasure to run into my old acquaintance, but now I must be going,” said Susan with a livid, sarcastic tone.

            “Susan, will stop being sarcastic?” asked Bill.

            “Will you stop being so rude, Bill?”

            “I wasn’t being rude. I simply asked how you were doing and about the conflagration. I know it devastated your house, but you can’t spend your whole life lamenting over your past!”

            “Oh! How mean can a person get in this world?” raged Susan as she stormed off.

            Bill went to his house and Susan went to her Aunt Claudia’s. Susan couldn’t live in her own house because it had been ruined in a fire.

            “You left the dining room table a mess,” said Aunt Claudia right when Susan walked in.

            “Sorry I will clean it up.”                     

            Susan cleaned up the table then went her room. She thought of her nice little house. She never figured out why her house burnt down. Was it a normal fire, or was it someone trying to destroy her house? The thought of someone destroying her house on purpose sent her chills. She missed her happy, buoyant self. Ever since she had moved in with Aunt Claudia, she had become very gloomy.

Adventures In A Crowded City

Adventures in Crowded City

Clara was walking through town with a cigarette hanging out of her mouth when an avid sales man walked up to her.

            “Would you like to try the best regimen found to help quit smoking? On sale now for $29.99! It is a limited time offer!” exclaimed the sales person.

            “Keep your judgments to yourself,” mumbled Clara as she stalked past.

            She looked in a shop window. She saw the porcelain dolls with blemishes on their face and hands. She saw the costume jewelry and the fake jewels. She skimmed past the other old, antique items. She saw an old, dusty Bible with fancy letters on it. She had always been neutral in religion. Honestly, she had never really thought about it. After all, she had her whole life ahead of her and she’d worry about that stuff later.

            Clara continued her walk to her apartment. She walked past the man with rags for clothes and a sign that said Homeless and hungry, please help. God bless! When she got to her apartment she immediately went straight for the couch and grabbed a fleece blanket. The streets of New York were frigid in late February. She wished she could just hibernate or fly to the equator. Life in New York wasn’t easy especially when you worked for an old antique shop barely getting enough pay for food. Clara got money from her rich aunt that she rarely ever sees. She pays most of her expenses off that.

            Life in the big city often caused her fatigue. She finally drifted off to sleep. It was not good, wholesome sleep; it was filled with nightmares and fears. It was filled with things that she had tried to forget, but kept haunting her in her slumber. It reminded her of the people she had neglected, the things she had forgotten, and her relinquished dreams, but most of all it reminded her of her past.

            Clara woke up from her troubling sleep.

            “It was all a dream,” Clara reminded herself.

            Clara walked over to her small kitchen and opened the refrigerator.  It cold air made her shiver. She fumbled through the fridge, but found nothing to eat. She sighed at the thought of going back out to the crowded streets. She realized she had no choice so she went to her room to dress in some warmer clothes. She had enmity for cold weather. She missed the warm air of summer.

            After she had finished getting dressed she walked her room. She was on the 6 floor and had to travel 6 flights of stairs multiple times every day because the elevator was broken. They said it would be fixed tomorrow, but Clara highly doubted that.

            Clara traveled swiftly down the stairs with her long brown hair tucked into a messy bun. She got to the bottom of the stairs and walked into the lobby. It was shabby and dreary, but she didn’t mind it that much. As she walked outside, the cold air dug its teeth into skin. She shivered and dug her hands into empathetic coat.

            She decided to take a bus her favorite restaurant The Cornelia Street Café. She went through phases of favorite restaurants. Last month’s favorite was Delmonico’s but it was too expensive so she decided to switch. She ordered marinated veal, with mashed potatoes and a cup of strongly brewed coffee.

            The waiter came after 30 minutes and brought her food. She dug into her food quickly in order to ease her ever growing hunger pains.

            “Where is my coffee?” asked Clara sharply.

            She had never even looked at the waiter. She finally she glanced up at the waiter and immediately reprimanded herself for acting so harsh. He was tall and had sandy blonde hair and a nice smile.

            She smiled and said, “Never mind, it’s okay, take as long as you need.”

            “Alright, thanks,” acknowledged the waiter.