Tuesday, December 24, 2013

A Christmas Poem

Lights twinkle in the distance
the soft hue of smoke lifts from the chimney
filling the air with swirls of gray
dancing through the colored lights

flakes of snow drift down

the lingering smell of pine
mixing  with sugar cookies cooling in kitchens
hot apple cider
sipped with cinnamon

Monday, September 16, 2013

Color Blind

Seems you didn't comb your hair today-
That's okay,
I still like you anyway.
You don't live in a castle like a king,
No diamond rings,
They're just sparkly, silly things.
And if the sun just doesn't shine,
I don't mind.
Today's another day that's your and mine,
and that's just fine;
In a strange and special way, I'm color blind

It doesn't mean that I can't see a rainbow,
Or silver beams of moonlight in the sky-
The colors I can't see are ugliness and hate,
The world is a miracle
when seen through my eyes.

Seems you're feeling very sad today-
Said goodbye,
Didn't mean to make you cry,
You were always very good to me.
Glad to be
In your loving family.
And if the world is looking sad and gray,
It's okay
'Cause in a while the hurt will go away,
You'll be fine,
If you do your best to see things  
          color blind

And I hope you'll always see the shades of sunset,
And a million flowers blooming in July-
The colors you don't need, are jealousy and greed;
The world can be so beautiful
        if you see it through my eyes.

And I know someday the time will come,
My dear friend,
When your time on earth is done.
We will be together like before,
Without end,
In a place beyond the sun.
I'll be there to meet you,
And I'll call out to greet you
Where the worries of this world
     are far behind

Everyday will be a day that's your and mine.
But 'til then, keep in mind,
In a special way, I was always color blind.

And I wish that everyone was color blind.

D. Deskin

Tuesday, April 16, 2013

Under the Water

Kefalonia Island, Greece

You and a travelling party are in a deep underwater cavern, quite possibly at the bottom of the ocean. You know only this as you wake up, feet and arms covered with stray sand and maybe a little ocean debris. You feel a soggy piece of paper in your pocket, but before opening it, you stand up and walk down a passageway. It is lined with sand and stone, the walls are covered in bright corals. Halfway down the corridor, you see that the roof of the cavern over your head is gently leaking-- drops of water drip partially over your face and onto your head.
Cenote Entrance

You continue forward and as the hallway comes to an end and your heart quickens. Entering a giant cove, you see a moderate pool of water that glows brightly and what surrounds it seems to be a giant rain-forest. The forest canopy above is 30 feet high and you see it shake subtly with forest life and other creatures that dwell there. The ground is now covered in dirt, and as you take a breath, the smell of strange flowers fills the air. The plant life is giant, unusual, and brightly colored. You hear the quiet chattering of what seems to be birds, monkeys, and some unidentifiable sounds. The forest seems to continue on deep into the cove. You see foot prints on the ground, left by something possibly human or a large animal.

Do you follow these footprints? What happens? What is on the piece of paper in your pocket….or have you lost it?! Tell us about your journey. Maybe your journey will end by finding an ancient treasure, maybe you’ll rescue someone you know or don’t know. Perhaps, you run into an aboriginal tribe of cave-dwellers that live in this forest. Perhaps, this is a dream! Feel free to share your story and make it as wild as you’d like. Happy Writing!

Tuesday, March 12, 2013

Flower's Pardon

The world in its shallow parts could never be absolute,
Each breath a small integration to a growing apothecary,
Small and sweet a flower’s sifting sigh
Predestined footprints slipping behind,

The petal slips down
Soft remnant of winter
its belief.

My Special Words:

Boob Cat

hard drive

Boob Cat

The cat awoke from a dream of beans
a hot cup of tea in a bargain hotel
juice boxes floating on a some distant dreams
lifting weights yelling, "Slam that barbell!"

A knock at the door brings his knife to the ready
Its just a plantain by the cool name of freddy!

My hard drive is dead! said the cool dudarube.
I'll fix it as long as you don't touch my boob.

musical thoughts

A melody begins to grow
in your mind,
in your heart.

Floating up
from the depths of thought
to the surface
exposing your soul.

and quiet at first
it begins to amplify.

The rhythm
smooth and steady
plays gently on
like the flowing river.

Notes swirl and turn
they dance inside your head
a song played

only you can hear.

Wednesday, March 6, 2013

Scrabble Salad!

I know the name sounds strange, but bear with me. Get out a piece of paper and pen, and think of an image, feeling, place or thing. Unless you’re feeling particularly spontaneous, then just pull out the piece of paper!
Write down 5-10 words. They should be something with more function than an article, preposition or proper noun. Adjectives, adverbs and descriptive words are best to use for this exercise.

If you want to, cross out words that you feel don’t mix with the rest, or keep them to liven things up!

Take those words you wrote down, and write a poem that specifically contains those words. It could be any length, and could be about almost anything. Use those words to build a poem that reflects something unique or whimsical (or silly), and see what product forms. Don’t be afraid to work directly with those words, or to even work completely around them. It’s up to you how you use the tools you just gathered. Good luck and happy writing!

Tuesday, February 26, 2013


Drifting from a cloudy dream
eyes flutter open

Sitting up straight on a bed of moss and grass
stretching limbs

Brushing leaves of hair away
from radiant green eyes

Blooming bright flowers grow
garments on the skin

Standing, bare feet like sturdy stems
find soft fertile ground

Stepping into the sun, deep red
its rays warm

Feeding the soul,
giving life

Watching below, the river clean and fresh
deep purple waters ripple

Looking above, tall trees, mighty and strong
ancestors watching over

Gazing beyond, rolling hills blend in tall mountains,
guardians protecting

Awakening into what was once was only dream,
a new life begins.

Wednesday, February 20, 2013

CandyMerpeopleMarsland, Or Wii-U Land?

Is there an ideal world or reality that you wish existed? What does that place look like, and where could it be located? Is it a world of colorful candy, a place that is only filled with water (and we are all mer-people of course), or is it a place very similar to our own?

Super Mario Land...

Where and what is this place? Use the 5 senses & an unconventional, creative perspective to share your world with us. Importantly, who is your speaker?

Good luck and happy writing ;)

Thursday, February 7, 2013

Burned out

Slowly I open my eyes,
or what used to be eyes.

What are they now, 
and where am I?

Everything seems big and strange.
Out of focus and perspective.
I'm sitting on a table,
in a room of someones house.

I'm not sure how I got here.

People pass right by me,
they don't notice me at all.
I try to yell,
to call for help,
but no sound comes from my mouth.

Panic takes hold
 at the realization that I no longer
have a mouth.
Or arm
or legs.

I cannot run away, 
or scream, 
or even cry.

Time pass by,
I can't be sure how long.
A sudden spark
and the warmth of a flame bring from my daze.
Something above me glows and flickers.
It's hurting me somehow I know,
but I feel no pain.

Small white drops
of waxy sweat drip from my head,
or where my head should be.
I feel myself shrinking,
slowly fading away.

As the flames die out,
a small puddle of wax
 is all that remains
of me.

Little trotty hetty coat 
in a long petticoat 
and a red nose 
the longer she stands 
the shorter she grows. 
What is it?

Thoughtful Akuma

My name might be
my heart small enough
to hold the both of us,

our insights resting
upon small hay bales
with a garish color
telling of a new spring,

my smile a sweet rue
but spilled with
minute surmountable regret,
powerful puppet-master

who pulls my strings
and reveals to me
small doses of faith
as a true constructionist,

my wings man-made
because I may be Godless,
peering out over the blue
flame that disguises

the world among an
ocean of sleepy hue,
dreary-eyed, I'd blink,
and with a little hope,

see the cobweb glitter.

Definition of COBWEB

a : the network spread by a spider :
b : tangles of the silken threads of a
spiderweb usually covered with
accumulated dirt and dust

: something that entangles, obscures, or
confuses <a cobweb of law and politics>

Ling Ling Panda

My soul is comfortably black & white,
but oh, 
my paws are so fluffy,
I am a true sight to behold, 

in all seriousness, 
how can you not love me?

Woe is me for
my paws will not fit
around the entire world,
my world of panda,

a panda themed park
where children run 
tirades of "Mummy, Mom, Momma"
in order to receive panda-

shaped ice-cream 
the future is something
to behold with my small 

but adorable black eye,
light an incense stick for me
and say a very small prayer,
but oh, please do not sneeze.

Ancestor Angel

waking up in the dark of night
high above the ground
cold and afraid

"Where am I?" I call to the darkness
growling from below
red piercing eyes beneath me
movement in the tree and a tap on my shoulder
finger to lips
a hand extended

Light break
dark fades
deep forest

Spreading my new found wings I take to the air
over the forest
as if a bird in flight

cool air fills my lungs
trees zoom by with spear in hand
My mind racing to fill in the gaps

I live here now
though I don't know how
a hunter in a distant plane.

Wednesday, February 6, 2013

The mind of Matter

The brown hare sits watching,
through the eye of a needle,
the ticking hands on the face of the clock.

He jumps up on the chest,
it's brown leather top
worn and creased,
like wrinkles on it's skin.

Upon it sits a bottle,
its long, elegant neck
leading up to its open mouth.

The little brown bunny hops
across the arm of the couch
and between the legs of the chair
(good thing it was standing still, or it would have tripped),

then comes to rest
at the foot of the bed.

"Get Unreal?"

Page 1/2

Picasso (one above as well)

Surrealist Art 1/3

Surrealist Art 2/3

Surrealist Art 3/3

Picasso painting

Don't forget to click on the images themselves, the resolution will be better quality. See you in class :)

Wednesday, January 30, 2013


ever vigilant forest watcher
keeps the peace with a poison inside

silent guardian awating the hero of time


Navi by his side until the day he dies
then off with the hero to save the world

Forever a guardian, forever the tree

Full Metal Alchemist

I get stuck in a book.

I feel so funny.
A wall pops out of nowhere.
A flash of light.
I run, the wall is gone!

Blood everywhere.
A weird dog-human thing says
More blood.

-Erin M.


They said he wasn't important
too small
too weak
too young.

That he could never  hope to be
"the chosen one".
A title he ddin't want anyway.

But he showed them all
that he could play their game.

He stood beside his friend
the boy that they had chosen,
to help him win a war.

When all was said and done
no honor was he given.

Just words of thanks
from a tired friend
and a hug from a mother he never knew.

Un-Alistair Crowley; Sebastian Michaelis

Unexpected deviations leave
the crime without the master,
hands reach up and
stretch into

a flame of refusal
for the snuff,
foot slips slowly
from the spider's web

to be caught by
unnatural disaster,
it is rent beneath the thumb
with a bold glare,

a fervent lie,
that couldn't go unnoticed
while the ash still
fills the water,

the town lit up
into an involuntary blaze,
bullets down the well
for each fragment of repose.

Sebastian Michaelis from Kuroshitusji/Black Butler

Tuesday, January 29, 2013

In medias res, & other adventures

Think about a character from a memorable book that you've read-- it could be any character from any genre, walk of life or persona. Who are they and what role do they play in the lives of others? Consider these things and some elements or attributes that truly identify this character; their personality, quirks, their visual attributes, their thoughts & emotions or how they'd react to things.

Write from the perspective of this character or from the perspective of someone witnessing this character in action. Maybe you've decided to go on adventure as this character, or with them in tandem. Perhaps this character-- with you in their shoes, brings the reader into a sequence of events in medias res, and you as the writer are called to begin their story just as some important or chaotic events have begun to unfold. Make your character come to life, and of course, feel free to deviate as it suits your needs.

Happy Writing :)

One of my favorite books-- with a very adventurous main character.

Wednesday, January 23, 2013

Fork in the road

Every choice we make
can be a blessing,
can be a mistake.

But how do you decide
which is better
you won't know until you've tried.

What knowledge can you gain
by sticking on this path,
will it only bring you pain?

Which burden do you choose,
you could win it all
but, all, you risk to lose.

Bright & Incandescent End of a New Year

If the world were to open its mouth,
would all the rivers flow out-
beneath the rocky crevice
where the bright spirits used to dwell,

would we sink like rocks
into its crushing abyss,
its words a mellow speech
stewing bubbles in the earth,

and over the years,
would it come to pass-
boats large enough to hold
the ocean,

watching it heat up to
blistering bounds and then
cool off between shiny metal
sprockets, from a distance,

where we'd savor the
sizzling quiet moments,
would it be simple enough-
to have hands placed

on the foreheads of the weary
to condone empty handed promises
betwixt a warm world that exemplifies
the temperate, flat state

of an almost empty glass of lager,
would we then bubble helplessly
up towards the surface,
a greenery through weak damp facets,

to spread about
one more clear breath of air,
spit back out the dragon's mouth
into a dazzling new year,

seething beneath the blue &
an elevator with no buttons,
shifting under the weight of
burdened human hands.

Prompt: Contradiction & Paradox

"The process of writing, any form of creativity,
is a power intensifying life."

-- Rita Mae Brown, Starting from Scratch

page 1/2

page 2/2

Contradictory & Paradoxical Riddles
-Blue Sonata by John Ashbery-
A poet of the 21st century who is known for using paradoxical elements in his writing.

Tuesday, January 15, 2013


I love space. All the wonders and beautiful sights. Mystic things no man has ever seen. But the idea of being out there, so far away from Earth with no air is terrifying.

*Technology advances have made space travel safe*

Deep black void
distant lights dance
beams of energy
reaching far from stars and galaxies.

Undiscovered mass
of rock
of ice
and mysterious elements
not found on our blue sphere.

New forms of life.

Plants with blooms of colors
the human mind could not fathom.

Animals, I think they are anyway,
with limbs and eyes unlike any ever seen.

Stretching out across
and time.

Discovering the undiscovered.

My Flying Dream

High and low
my arms stream wildly
for the moment when I
can be temporarily sustained
above the valley floor

and the black tops,
slick with rocks and
gravel leftover from the rain,
scattering across the
palms of my hands

where the nimbus bellows out of reach,
no engine to convene,
or metallic wings to hover
alongside the real thing,
grey feathers and down,

skimming along the edge of the lake,
the sky simmering down over the water
turns it a mossy green,
the slight bob of a bird's body
connecting little intricacies

over wind-chime pines and
the hollow bellies of other trees,
it will touch down as a passing thought,
as human hands and feet.


cherry blossoms and salty air
snow laden vilages deep in the mountains
Summers heat to winters bite
The land of Nippon's rising sun

Bustling citys and quiet fields
young and old give me the feels
A land of mystery and splendor
makes me want to stare in wonder

I have one chance to enjoy it's beauty
So I will take the trip and spend some money

I didn't name mine either

you open the old leather book
dust floats up around you.
Your fingers gently glide
over worn yellow pages.

Curiosity takes over
you quickly turn the pages
looking for what
you are not sure

A flash of something
as you flip past.

Dark handwritten letters.

you turn the pages back
scanning each one
until, you find it.

A letter,
written on the blank page between chapters.
Carefully you read each word
then read each one again.

the cover of the book
knowing that fate has delivered it to you.

It is part of you.

Monday, January 14, 2013

Poetry by Tony Hoagland

pg. 1/2

pg. 2/2
pg. 1/2

pg. 2/2

Tony Hoagland & his sly smile

Out On A Limb: Prompt

"I was trying to write then and I found the greatest difficult, aside from knowing truly what you really felt, rather than what you were supposed to feel, and had been taught to feel, was to put down what really happened in action; what the actual things were which produced the emotion that you experienced...the real thing, the sequence of motion and fact which made the emotion and which would be as valid in a year or in ten years or, with luck and if you stated it purely enough, always."

--Ernest Hemingway, Death in The Afternoon

Out On A Limb

Pg. 1/2
Pg. 2/2

Good luck & Happy Writing :)

Thursday, January 10, 2013

The Old Bookstore Prompt response (Smelly Book)

It smells of leather and dust
and its pages give me glimpses
of thoughts left behind,

Quiet intruder,
my thoughts reading these thoughts,
chemical pronunciation filtered

through an inaudible span,
smells like an old world
pressed between books,

cedar and images of fish
with their aluminum scales
spreading over like flowers,

we are plucked from the shelf,
our lives written in light
and our presence unknown

until with new hands,
we are picked up,
our names made similar

and our secrets
made of ink.

Wednesday, January 9, 2013

My Neverending story

Old bookstore,
my safe haven.
land of untold tales and adventures.

Running from bullies to my favorite place,
A large book falls from the shelf in front of me. I grab it and run to the school. I sit up in the attic with a flashlight in my hand and begin to read.

Tales told of ancients old,
and sacrifices made.
Boys grown to men
and lost to sin
and restored full once again.

The story grasped me like nothing before.
Nothing tearing away a land of fantasy.
A boy must save the princess.
I am that boy.
Her name is now Moonchild.

My Neverending story.

The Streets of Christmas

Snowflakes falling softly
cover the ground in fine white powder.

People, with their shopping bags
pull their coats tight against the cold.

Twinkling lights
hung from every building
begin to blur as the snow falls faster.

The Christmas wreath
hanging in the center of the street
sags under the weight of new snow.

Christmas time has come again.
And with it a blur
of people
and snowflakes
fill the city streets.

Christmas Letter

Dear Santa,

This year for Christmas, all I want is for you to apologize for being an evil myth, created by the Vatican to draw attention away from people celebrating the birth of Christ. Also, your association with the Catholic Church combined with your unique methods of breaking and entering, makes for pretty good odds you are a pedophile. I mean really, kids in your lap?
Fuck you dude.


The Bird

You are at the Mall (old fashion).
You see the smallest TV.
You love it,
you want it.
You tell your husband
or wife.

All you get is
a "Nobody Loves Mitch" record.

You throw it on the floor.
Than a killer record
is in your home!
It is the bird killer.

The old fashion End.

-Erin M.