Stephanie's Written Works

Sweet Summer Sonnet A sweet melody woven of singing birds and gentle breezes composed of soft whispers spoken by secret lovers. A golden sun radiating beauty it seeps into our minds it captivates our souls. An inspiration of every thought- every spoken word. Sing me a song that sings of a simple blue sky peaceful and true a sun that reigns with an iridescent shine. Sing to me a song written with words of secret meetings and skipping rocks by the bay sing me that sweet summer sonnet The music you... Sign in to see full entry.

Patience a Virtue Ripples in the water- belying the image- of what roams beneath the surface. What truth can we speak- of that we do not see clearly. We make assumptions to fill the void of missing colors in the kaleidoscope- giving relief to our fears- and our curiosity. We make up theories to explain what we don't understand- when sometimes all we need to do is wait patiently for the wind to die (as all things do) and the water to calm- still as a looking glass so we can see clearly the things... Sign in to see full entry.

Dear Journal, Nothing appeals to me anymore. Nothing interests me. The world is passing me by, and I’m not bothering to try and catch it. It’s not a race I care to join, especially considering what’s at the finish line. Who wants to die anyway. People talk about their faith and heaven, but when it comes down to it EVRYONE fears death. They’re all just a bunch of hypocrites of their own beliefs. That’s because most people believe what they see. They can see death, but have they ever laid eyes on... Sign in to see full entry.

If you have not read the prologue to The Hush of Silence, go here http://www.blogit.com/Blogs/Blog.aspx/stephanie_written_works/539869. Dear Journal, Stillness is calming, but being still lets you think. Being still doesn't let you drown out the noise that buzzes in the background, echoing off your eardrum. It doesn't numb the pain. Only the oblivion does it and that's why I do it. Fall into the abyss. It's comforting. More reliable than any spoken advice and more comforting than any human arms.... Sign in to see full entry.

I am going to take a little break from poetry to focus on my fictional writing for a little while, I hope you guys still enjoy. Dear Journal, I breathe slowly…I close my eyes…I lay perfectly still…and then I stop breathing. Count down from ten…but nothing happen. It’s like washing your hair: wash, rinse, REPEAT. Do it again. Still nothing happens, but my lungs are starting to burn. It won’t kill me, just my strength a little…maybe. Do it again. It won’t hurt me; just make everything bearable…for... Sign in to see full entry.