We all get up in a hurry, we playing collectively, one of our favourite games of the week. The sun has gone down behind the mountain and we've sung our campfire closing song, Taps. I run past John wanting to make it up to the dining hall first, and by doing so, it is immediately made a race. He wins, of course, being 6' 3" and all. Huffing and puffing we agonizingly wait for the rest of our respective cabin mates to arrive before Arianna comes to remind us of the rules.
quick in class freewrite of an idea i'm forming for a creative essay (i'll post the creative 'write your own story' essay once its written)
Showing posts with label home. Show all posts
Showing posts with label home. Show all posts
Wednesday, 6 March 2013
Saturday, 2 February 2013
Innocent
Its late, probably 2 AM,
Robert is reading and Johnny Cash plays.
Under a duvet
Him and I lying together in the darkness,
I'm not getting up unless he does.
He doesn’t.
So, side by side on the couch, we sleep together
In the most innocent sense of the phrase
Saturday, 8 December 2012
As if it could be Anything Else
The golden sun peeking over the trees
it feels like ten degrees
despite it being late summer
But time is flying by
Stylish in our pajamas
and a constant zombie state
the cereal bowls clang
no thoughts of the city nearby
Expecting normality
Saved by the strange
Waiting would be disastrous
first is to get a seat
Fighting non-stop laughter
to maybe get through the meeting
Plastic swords
Answers to questions
Watch a movie and
we all lie on someone else
And to believe I thought this place had changed
Wednesday, 26 September 2012
Broken
It’s possible I was going slightly insane
The heat, the hill, the island
All possible contributions
To this ridiculous mental state
Now that I’m home
I don’t know what to think.
Is this just part of ‘the rule’?
Or is it just another exception?
‘The Rule’.
5 to start, 9 in the middle, 3 to end,
We rate you.
It rarely fails me.
I think it has for the second time ever.
I sit here with butterflies in my stomach
While glancing over to make sure
You’re real
Labels:
Broken,
butterflies,
feelings,
happy,
home,
poem,
reality,
relationship,
story,
summer,
thinking,
writing
Thursday, 16 February 2012
Summer Camp
Summer Camp
I
step off the boat onto the wobbly lower dock. I take my sunglasses off my head
and put them over my eyes so the glare from the sun off the water is slightly
bearable. I walk up the ramp, steep because of the low tide. It’s windy down
here. I make note of things, the house on the point, the red railings, Snake Island,
the red row boats and canoes. Everything is quiet for a moment as I remember.
Then reality snaps back as I hear the kids behind me calling out my name, but
that doesn’t matter. I’m home again for the first time since last summer.
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