Clouds (A Poem)

by tiffanyPoetryPosted on No Comments

 

 

I flew back east to be with my family on Tuesday and have been focused on this trip all week, which is why I have not posted anything most of the week. I am now back on my computer and have a bunch of writing from my flight to publish. Here is the first poem.
poetry

Magical puffs
of frozen fluff
drifts gently,
drifts gracefully by
as I sit yet fly
with the Sun beaming in
as I travel to see my kin.
I simply sit
and see where the puffs’ shadows hit
over the hills and farms
and over the homes with alarms.
Yes, I sit yet fly
as the graceful fluffs drift on by.

Starting a journey

by tiffanyBrazilian Jiu-jitsu writings, other updates, random ramblingsPosted on 2 Comments

writingI started a journey last week, maybe you noticed. It is a life long quest to be my best. It will be a struggle see how this makes sense, showing some one or at least me something similar to growth. It is a journey that I have embarked as surprise to myself. This surprised journey, the sudden change in my seeing things is a surreal change in my path.

You see this new journey and sudden changed, changed more than a day like I thought it would. The first step was not really the true beginning. I thought it would be stepping into the hot sweaty gym, but no. The true beginning was asking the simple question, “Can I?” When the answer was yes, I was given a chance to step into the steam filled, rectangular room that was filled with blue and green mats.

My first class lasted all week within my muscles as an excited reminder that I did something impossible. What was that impossible thing I did, you may ask. I put down myself as I took off my shoes and learned my strength. I learned a new love. It is an impossible love that I told myself I would never find. It is the love of something that pushes you to the brink of your limits, but leaves you wanting more. It is a love that build you up, shows you the strength within you and tells you everything can be learned from. It is a love of Brazilian jiu jitsu and yes after only one class I was in love. After two classes I confident enough in this new journey to write about it.

You will hear more about my training and journey. This is only the start.

 

Pain so good (A Poem)

by tiffanyBrazilian Jiu-jitsu writings, PoetryPosted on No Comments

poetry

 

This pain
is so freeing.
This ache
is very much relaxing.
Let this flame
keep burning,
this fire
never die.

The pain pushes me.
The ache shows I am alive
The fire,
oh the fire
it keeps me from looking back
from slowing down
because if I stop
the warming fire may die out
cool my heart until it is ice.

So let the pain hurt
the ache be uncomfortable
and the fire burn on.

Control of My Brain (creative ramblings)

by tiffanymonologue, my creative self, PoetryPosted on No Comments

poetry

I am in control of my brain. Yes, I am. I control what I think. Hey, did I just wink or was it just a one eye blink? Wait, no I was telling you how I control my brain. I control what I think and how my mind works. It works because I see a cat. He is a cute cat. Hey, no, brain, come on. I control you. Stop, serious, stop being distracted. Stop in the name of love, before you break my heart. Nope, I am not going start singing now, even though it’s fun to do. Well, it can be fun to do. Maybe I should just listen to music. Oh look, YouTube is up. I should check that out.

Come on brain. Focus! I am in control. I will not get distracted and will write about being in control. I will do it. I am in control of what I think and how my brain works.

There I did it. Now, brain you can you back to daydreaming and thinking about the sound a cat makes as he is playing with a toy.

Bubbling up

by tiffanyPoetryPosted on No Comments

poetry

What joy is this;
What feeling of total bliss?
My excitement is bubbling up
I’m sorry but I just have to do it.
I have to shout out loud,
squeak and squawk.
There is no controlling
not this joy
not when a life was saved
and miracle was shown.

Can you contain a firework
after it explodes?
Can you hide the sun
once it rises?
Why than would you think,
could you believe,
that I could hide my thankful heart?

My heart is those fireworks
with the light of the sun
shining out my love.
The news of true life
sparked the explosion
and lit the happy fuse.

What is this joy?
Why am I in total bliss?
Because love came
and gave a miracle
by answering a prayer.

To The Beach

by tiffanymy creative self, short stories, Stand Alone Short StoriesPosted on No Comments

writing

I took a walk today to give myself time to think. I walked down to  the beach, thinking inspiration will find me with my feet in the sand. Yet, even before I stood on the shore I was reminded of my mind and a muse came whispering in my ear. He said, “feel your feet on the rough ground below. The asphalt hurts the soles of your feet, right?” Yes, the road below me was rough and hard to walk on without any shoes being worn. Still, I walked on knowing that the rough road would make the soft sand feel that much better.

I got to the stairs that led to my destination of cooling sand on this wonderfully peaceful evening to find that the night had long-held claim over the steps. The darkness of this alley way was caused by the two homes that blocked any moonlight or street light from entering. Still I felt the each step on my way down knowing that once I turned the corner there would light once more.

Now, at the bottom with my feet in the sand and my eyes taking in the romantic moonlight, the ocean breeze blew cold. For a moment I thought it was too cold, but when my ears opened they heard the breeze creating a melody with the ocean’s waves crashing on the shore and the distant wind chimes singing like bells, I knew that no cold would be too much for this beauty. The breeze then felt fine and reminded me that my body was still hot from the workout at the gym. The wind became a comfort not a burden, calming me instead of shutting my senses down.

I walked along the dark shore keeping my senses aware but my mind was thinking. It realized that although the road was rough relief came. Although times were dark,I light was found around a corner. Finally, my mind realized that although it may seem like the wind is cold if you change your perspective something that seems like a burden can be a comfort.

 

Here I stand (A Monologue)

by tiffanymonologue, my creative selfPosted on No Comments

writing

Here I stand. I stand on my own two feet, wishing that they were not attached, so that I could move around them and see where exactly I am. What am I doing? Where am I actually standing? And why am I standing? Still, at least I am indeed standing on my own two feet. I have the world ahead of me and I am making it on my own. Yes, look at me doing my own thing. I am living my very own adult life, alone. I have many questions and never too sure if I’m doing everything right. Most days I know I’ve done at least one major thing wrong, but still I am making it on my own. I am living this adult life, standing on my own two feet. But you know what? Some time, well most of the time I wish I wasn’t. I wish there was some sort of clear arrow pointing one way or the other. Still I guess that’s not entirely how this adult life thing works, so here I stand. I am here standing on my own two feet.

UPDATE

In November 2014 I did a recording of this monologue. I would like to share that with you know.

Fingers

by tiffanymy creative self, other updatesPosted on No Comments

writing

My fingers want to dance on the keyboard and feel the story or poem pour out. They want to touch the words and sense the love that can be found within. Within each word there is love and there is hate. It is a battle that rages in each word. How do I use it right? What is the best word to use? How should I write? I must write the right way with the write words, but my fingers they just want to dance. They perform a ballet and then a waltz across the keyboard in the rhythm of my music.

Oh dance fingers dance and let my mind explore and explode with the background music. Show me what I think and how I feel. Shed light to the dark areas of my soul. Where I do not dare to go. Yes, fingers dance on and press the keys to write my own heart’s song with the notes being words  of the wordless song.

How I do enjoy when my fingers dance along  with the music that I hear. They become fairies beckoning me to a new world, or a familiar home.They show me a story that was locked in my mind, unless they decide to write a poem or a new melody. AS I sit they shine love like a n old friend and converse with my mind like a counselor.

Yes, I love when my fingers dance.

If you haven’t tried closing your eyes and writing whatever comes to mind as you listen to music with no vocals you should. That is what I did with this.

Let me know what you think.

Sale (creative rant)

by tiffanymy creative self, other updatesPosted on No Comments

writing

 

I am not for sale but you can by small pieces  of me. My body, heart, and soul are only mine. You can not buy or bid on them. Yet, I will bleed for you. I will bleed out all my creativity. I will happily give you all of my mind as long as I know where to find it at the end of the night.

Yes, I will give my all to give my art, but you will never buy my heart. I will bleed for you because my love will never end. Still no money and no treasure will be set to claim my very self. I will give you every piece of me and some times those pieces will be free. However, those pieces are the things I can spare, those bits are what needs to come out.

So thank you for collecting the things that I shed, but please know I am not for sale.

 

What do you artistic people think? Is that how you see selling your art? It was a random creative rant, so I don’t even know what I think.

For a Second Time I am A Bagel (short story)

by tiffanyshort storiesPosted on No Comments

writing

 

I am still a bagel living my bagel life. I wake up and go to work. I come home and some night I hang out with friends.

While sharing conversation and company with my closest friend a question about pain came up. My friend did not ask about sorrow or the pain that came from hardship. His question was more simple. “Can bagels feel pain?” He pondered out loud to the group.

I was off put a little by the idea that the thought even arose in his head. Of course bagel felt pain. Every living thing can feel pain in one way or another. I being a bagel physical feels pain when some one pokes me, squeezes me too tightly in their hands and when they start to cut into my sides. Every time a knife comes near I must declare that I am still living and beg them not to cut me open.

I also feel great emotional pain. I feel this deep sorrow when I see my people sold as slaves to become someone’s breakfast. My heart breaks when I see the joy of a monster biting down on an unfortunate bagel. As that monster bites down on their bagel my soul crumbles as it can feel the mashing and breaking of a fellow bagel.

I am lost in my thoughts of pain as my friends continue to ponder and had almost come to the conclusion that bagel could not feel any type of pain. It was at the conversation’s end that I told them that bagels could feel pain.

The did not believe me and one of the others changed the topic before much more could be said. I did not mind the change in conversation, since I did not want to explain to people who should have known that bagels feel pain.

It appears that this whole “I am a bagel” is starting to be a thing within my group of friends.  I am not fighting it and actually may start a video series about being a bagel. I just need to make/ get a bagel puppet. I say get because it’s just going to be a bagel with olive eyes and pretzel sticks for legs and arms. The friends of a bagel may be difficult to do though.

We shall see what happens with this. I am enjoying writing the short stories at least.