A Whispered Promise ( a monologue)

by tiffanymonologuePosted on No Comments

writing

As I am worrying and becoming stressed, a whispering voice says,”be patient.” So, I will be patient, but there is a difference between waiting ideally while your time and talents dwindle away and being patient. I will be patient, but I will still act on opportunities, and work on my talents. I will wonder down the path of life until I can run down the road, that I know it will become.

The timing may not be right, at this moment. This moment is fleeting, though, and soon will be over.  I will be patient in my working until it is time to leap.

A Pondering Poem

by tiffanyPoetryPosted on One Comment

poetry
Can art go on art;
Laying on it like a lover?
One inspiring the other,
romantically entangled,
but no romance to handle?

Would the art be part of the other art;
like one piece of the whole is the heart?
It would supply life,
living as section,
being whole by being only a part.

This is just a fast little poem, but I hope you enjoy it. Let me know what you think.

In This Moment ( a monologue)

by tiffanymonologuePosted on One Comment

writing

What is important in my life at this moment? I am,well me and how the ink of my pen looks as it glides across the page. The shapes and lines of the words could be art in of themselves. Simple, smooth, yet they still hold a quality of complexity.

No, nothing to serious is important to me at this moment. I don’t have the energy to think to deeply on any subject. Instead I will simply watch the shapes come to life as my pen drags on.

Perhaps it is the light of the setting sun causing the almost magical make up of the ink on the paper or perhaps it’s the difference in pen. Have I become so accustomed to the think bold lines of my newly bough fountain pen already, that this thin lines ball point pen looks more elegant with its writing? I will say that it is a combination and leave it at that. I know it will not matter in a moment or two either way, when the sun sets or my mind wonders to the next topic to create.

Either way and for what ever the reason pen to paper is what is important to me at this moment.

Dark Den (A Poem)

by tiffanyPoetryPosted on One Comment

poetry

Please give me,
a dark den,
with a cool current flowing through.
Let the ground be a bed,
not dirt or grass.
Really I just want a dark den
to lay my bed.

For you see
I simply don’t want to be me.
Not that I do not like being me,
simply put I don’t want to be.
Just for a time,
just for a night.

All I want to be
is in a dark den,
one that is cool,
with my beautiful bed
to curl up comfy in.

Who For?

by tiffanyPoetryPosted on One Comment

poetry

Who do I do this for?
Who will win from my hard work?
Who will smile as I undress,
displaying my wonderfully curvy body?
Me, the answer is me.

I will win,
I will smile
and I am doing this for me.

I do not strive,
I do not fight,
I do not struggle
not for anyone,
except me and God.

If I do not do this for me,
then it is for God.
If I do not win,
then it is for God.
If I do not smile,
then I lost sight of God.

Who is all this for?
It is for me,
but if not me than for God.

Can I Meet Fantasy?

by tiffanyother updates, PoetryPosted on One Comment

poetry

I do not want to live this life.
I want to dance with the pixies,
laugh with the werewolves
and maybe meet a fairy or two.

I do not want to live this life.
I want to see my thoughts
in air bubbles that are
taken away by the evening’s breeze.

I do not want to live this life.
I yearn to be free.
Free of things tied to reality,
where there is magic.

I do not want to live this life.
Yet, I know I have to.
I guess I will just depend on love
to be my magic
and honestly that is enough for me.

Kitty's Monologue

by tiffanymonologue, my creative selfPosted on One Comment

writing

Kitty is a character in my novel, who can not talk. She finds different ways to communicate and share knowledge. There is a lot to her, but she can’t always get that across. This monologue is an internal monologue taking place inside Kitty’s mind to Noah, one of the other main characters and the person she is closest to.

I do hear you. I do understand you. I do deserve my position. I really do and I know you know I should be where I am. I just wonder if the others think I belong. Sometimes I know that I don’t, but then you look at me and I belong. Your brother seems hard and protective of his mission. He can’t see that it is my mission too.

I am locked inside my mind. I wish I could just tell you and your brother. Really I wish I could tell everyone what is happening inside. It is like the neural pathways  connecting my voice and thoughts are missing. With every trauma or change they are erased and I must relearn how to make sounds that would be considered words. To make matters worst my memories are misplaced. They are not lost, just misplaced. This makes it hard even know what I know. All my memories are intact, but they are hidden from me and it seems like just when I find a memory or way to connect my vocal cords and thoughts together they are erased or jumbled up.

I hope you understand that I am doing my best. Your smile makes me think you know, but how? I never know until I start reconnecting things. Maybe that is why you’re with me; to help me remember that I am not permanently broken just different with misplaced memories.

Hopefully one day I will get to thank you. Hopefully one day everyone will understand. I am smart and I am worthy of helping. It may be a long time, but I do hope.

I hope you like this and if you follow my blog you will learn more about the characters of  Duality, since I am pretty focused on it. At least I am trying to be really focused on it. 

Many Journeys ( A Poem)

by tiffanyPoetryPosted on One Comment

poetry
I walk multiple paths in life.
My life is a combination of journeys,
all taking place at the same time
all taking their own time.

I look at the journeys I walk
and try to see where I’ve been
to see where the path leads.
I look back to see where I’m going
seeing the past as hints to the future.

On one journey
I am an artist;
dancing towards acting
while I write my paintings,
soon I’ll sculpt my imagination
trying new ways to shine my mind,
but always keeping pen near paper
to pour my emotions out with ink.

On one journey
I walk and journey
alone and with friends.
We talk in the silence
and let the silence talk for itself,
with my voice starting soft
growing as I crawl along,
only being able to be heard
when I discover myself around a bend.
Then love like a flood starts to pour out
and I learn to love by loving;
I learn to be loved.

On one journey
I am alone.
friends beside me,
Family supporting behind me
and God leading ahead of me,
but no one of my own.
On this journey there is an air of not knowing.
not knowing,
Is this how it will always be?

I look at the journeys I walk
looking back to see where I’m going
seeing the past as hints to the future.
I see a loved artist,
a strong, loyal friend,
and a happily single adventurer.

Telling My Dream

by tiffanyother updates, PoetryPosted on 3 Comments

encouragement

The inspiration for this post comes from my weekly writing prompt series. The prompt is ‘Write a poem or short story with the sentence, “I didn’t want to tell my dreams to someone new.” ‘

I didn’t want to tell my dreams to someone new.
I wanted you to be the only one who knew.
But like a bird away you flew.
Leaving alone to see you in a new hue.

No, I didn’t even want to tell you my dream.
I wanted it to be my scheme,
but you pushed saying we will be a team.
Yet, you still left before the sun even shared a beam.

Where I Write.

by tiffanymy creative selfPosted on One Comment

encouragement

Describe  your desk or work are where you write. Is it clean, dirty, or cluttered? Is it organized? What objects or decorations are on it or around you while you write?

This is a writing prompt from my weekly writing series. 

Where do I write?  I write at my black wooden desk that once was at a Target. It now is assembled with its one drawer almost always staying closed and stacks of notebooks, papers, pens and random artifacts from my days spread across its flat matte service. It is like a cozy cocoon where my creative ideas hide away.

It is clean, with hardly any trash or spills on it. It is cluttered and appears to be a mess, but if you ask me where a certain note is or where my favorite pen is I can tell you. It may seem like there is no order to my writing space, but just like my brain I know the rules and organization that is in place, even when others can’t.