The day was bitingly cold, and Sarah couldn’t get over this cough.  It clawed at her lungs like an angry cat, and made her whole body shudder with pain after a real bad fit. No matter what she did, whether it be downing a cough drop or sipping hot soup, the tickle in her throat and the cold in her chest would not subside.

Finally, Sarah took the long trip to the doctor.  She started the car, toured the highway, and waited impatiently for her exam, hacking all the way.  The room in which she waited was cold, too, just like everywhere else, and made her shiver. Not only was it cold, but crowded.  A pimply-faced adolescent beside Sarah snapped his gum obnoxiously and plugged his ears with the rubbery tail of an iPod. His worry-stricken mother across from him pinched her eyebrows together and held her lime green handbag in a vice-like grip.  Her husband beside her bounced his knobbly knees in a leisurely way, absent mindedly humming and stroking his wife’s hand.  He leaned over and whispered something in her ear, a twinkle lighting his eye and a sleepy smile lifting his cheeks.  The woman’s deep wrinkles of concern shallowed as her face loosened; her frown became a girlish grin and she looked years younger.  The couple shared a kiss(arousing a disgusted protest from their son).  Sarah merely looked down and fiddled with her wedding band.

“Sarah McKonnor?”  called a hollow-sounding voice from the receptionist with the phone in her ear, nose-deep in her computer screen.  Sarah stood and made her way through the aisles of chairs and toward the office door, doing her best not to trip over the fellow-patient feet draped across her path.

VAIN REMORSE

Blithe-the calf longed to peek

outside the byre, into the cybele to seek

gifts agogo,meadows-lush green

wonders of wonders,yet to be seen

to abnegate is not bish but a sin

mother dear’s heart,the calf needed to win

nature’s bounty,singing praise

chaff were all,mother dear says

chagrin aplenty but futile all

mother dear would neither heed nor fall

when brume hugged the morning sky

lept off the calf;tricked the watchful eye

mother dear’s faint clamant fell on the ears

but the calf cared least;had no more fears

Once again, to my chagrin
This nightmare perseveres
And through the glass it comes to pass
To feed upon my fears

And it seems to slay my dreams
And in their stead leave blind
Mine own two eyes to that one prize
My soul doth seek to find

Still I pray that night gives way
And cures this circumstance
That captive holds my weary soul
Within it’s darkened trance

And perhaps lay loose the straps
That bind me to this cross
And free from round my neck now bound
This curs’ed albatross

Once on a Easter day.
The kids went out to play.

The kids were playing loudly.
While the adults were sleeping soundly.

The weather was rainy and foggy.
The ground was wet and soggy.

The dog began his barking.
As the sky began darkening.

The kids ran inside.
Their Easter eggs to find.

The adults woke up in time.
To hear this little rhyme.

A Rich Man’s Heart

(Part 1)

It was 6:57 p.m. and the sun was starting to hide below the mountaintops. The sky, though it had rained a while ago, was a light blue and pink with little cotton balls drifting slowly towards the horizon.
“James!” Cried Kristine from the window holding little Edward in her arms as the child looked up at her with a face of curiosity.” James! Get in here, Edward needs more milk formula and I would go for it before he gets cranky out of hunger.” The child gave a small smile to his mother.
Edward was very smart for his seven months of life. He was like a deer in the meadow after he sensed trouble and would begin to fuss, and yet somehow he knew when his father James was being scolded and would giggle hysterically, causing his parent to laugh with him. Even though we was born with cardio problems, Edward was a charming and joyous baby boy that captured everyone’s heart with just one look at his angelic-like face. He had his father’s handsome features: dark hair, a small perfectly straight nose, and a nicely formed mouth. From his mother he carried the big almond-shaped hazel eyes with the long, full, and curly lashes as well as the smile with the cute dimples on his pink chubby cheeks.
“Yes?” James called out as he entered the small apartment’s front door.        

This is acually a play I acually wrote for ADV. Drama but feel free to leave a  comment or suggestions. thanx =]

Stereotypes

Devan:  It’s happening again! She all over me!

Felicia: Who? Maria Jose?

Devan: Yes, Maria Jose! She’s so stubborn! You know what she tried to do today? Kiss             me! (Felicia giggles). It’s not funny!

Felicia: You can’t teach an old dog new trick. She’s used to getting every guy she wants, it’s hard for her to let you go. She thinks she has what it takes to make you             straight.

Devan: Ewww, no thanks. Why doesn’t she hit on Jerry, he’s gay too.

Felicia: Because he’s gay, gay. (Laughs) You’re just gay.

Devan: See that’s the problem. People stereotype gay boys to be all wannabe girls that       move their hips like this when they walk (he does the walk). Omg! I think I just       broke my nail!

What’s so funny?

It’s a question asked when one doesn’t get the joke.

At least for a man with no sense of the actual world around him, his own personal thoughts drowned him.

So caught up in his own personal love frenzy, bathing in his self indulgence.

Lives life through a screen and every day dives deeper into the things that make him scream, when awake in the day he feels as a raining king.

But when his head hits the pillow all the dreams and aspirations willow, falling deeper down the rabbit hole of what is but humanity dished on a silver platter, is his life just chatter?

I see a man do nothing, yet claims everything. I see a man receive in a time of need, then only ask for more

I’ve seen women give in and cheat over and over again, I’ve seen men break hearts from across countries wide spread apart, I’ve seen men piss on art and praise a life of a subatomic plague of self praise.

A good friend of mine, I’ll call her kuheli, stopped by one day for a cup of coffee, and sure enough, before we knew it, we were deeply involved in a conversation, discussing the “ right and wrong” ways of being in a relationship. After all, I was writing a book about it, wasn’t I?

“So often, when we are absolutely convinced we are right, we are not that right at all,” I said.

“Really?” Kuheli raised her eyebrows.

My friend is an open-minded woman. She is always eager to learn, always ready to hear a different perspective. Her relationship of two years had recently ended, and thought she was okay with it by then, the wounds had not yet fully healed. The memories of fights with her ex-fiancee were still fresh. She would relive them again and again in her mind wondering if there was something she could have done differently. “Was there another way?” she’d ask herself, arriving each time at the same answer. No. she had been right. She had handled it correctly. She was making sure her needs were met, and no, she wasn’t selfish and unreasonable. It was her boyfriend who had been stubborn and childish, while she was simply respecting.

“So what you are saying is when we are sure we are right, we are actually wrong?” she asked.

Man of happiness

Morgan sat in front of the Safeway for an hour before her mother called. Her Support our Troops sign still stood and her donation box was half-full. Pure devious genius, that’s how her father described it when he pulled her closer to whisper the idea, his breath moistening her lobe.

She brushed her hair back behind an ear and smiled as a smirking man placed a can of Green Giant, cream-style corn in her box.

He stared from behind a set of dim blue eyes. His lips quivered as if he wanted to say something.

She looked away and raised an eyebrow, leaving the smile on her face to be polite, but praying he didn’t ask for her number. The guy puffed a disappointed laugh through his nose before he walked off into the parking lot.

Her smile faded to a frown as the man left, and she picked up the can of food. Ugh, I hate cream corn. Couldn’t he give something better?

She tossed the corn back in her box and it clonked against another metal can. She took out her cell phone to check the time, but just holding the device caused her mother’s sobbing words to echo in her head.

Every day I look upon the sea of people in my life

Only for my eyes to betray what I know I should see

I try to guess and hope for God’s best,

but sometimes His truth escapes me.

Every day I look upon the sea of people in my life

Paddl’n' and swayin’ in this old wooden dinghy

Waiting for God to shake me from my trance

So that I may leap and stand on His raging sea.

Every day I look upon the sea of people in my life

And doubt that God could love people like us

I am constantly reminded that if I were my Lord

This doubting world would drive me nuts.