I just found this yesterday while I was cleaning out my poetry stuff. Its a short story I wrote earlier this year. Hope you like it.
The Birth of a Goddess
On a warm fall day in Mid-September, a beautiful young apartment manager is finishing up some last minute paper work before she heads home to start dinner. As she starts to open the office door to leave she catches her reflection in the mirror thats hanging on the back of it. She stops to look at hersef for a moment. She smoothes out her waist length dark brown hair, and checks her eye shadow on her large Saphire-blue eyes. Her eyes roam further down untill the reach her large round belly. At that moment her stomach moves. She raises her blouse and pokes her tummy gently to play with her unborn child. The child kicks her finger away as hard as it can. She laughs, lowers her blouse and opens the office door. As she stars to walk down the stairs a shooting pain stops her in her tracks. She thinks to herself, " Oh God! its time!!" Slowly she makes her way down the last flight of stairs and out the door into the court yard. She starts the short walk to her appartment when another pain hits. Stopping to hold on to a nearby tree for support she tells herself, "I've got to call my husband." As she tries to rememer how she's supposed to breath she lets go of the tree and starts walking again. She manages to make it through the courtyard and into her apartment before the next pain hits. "They're coming way to fast" She thinks as she grabs the counter and tries not to scream. Finally she has a chance to reach the phone and dials her husbands work number. As soon as she hears his voice she screams "It's time! Go to hospital!" and hangs up. She them calls her neighbor and tells her the same thing. As she makes her way to the front door another pain hits. "Oh GOD!" she screams. She tries to walk,but only makes it a few steps before she has to stop and try the whole breathing thing again. She finally makes it to the front door. As she reaches for the handle her friend shoves open the door almost knocking her off balance. They get to the car and start towards the hospital. The woman looks at her friend and says with a smile, "Home James!"
Early the next morning the woman is laying in the hospital holding her beautiful baby girl. Her husband walks in and hands her a cup of ice. He takes the baby the baby from her and gazes down at his daughter. "So what are we gonna call this little monster?" Her husband asks. "She's not a monster, shes an angel!" The woman says with a smile. "Isis." the woman says. "Isis?" "Yes, Isis. Thats her name. Isis our little goddess." the woman says as she reaches to hold her daughter's hand. "Isis huh? Well little one what do you think about that name?" the husband asks as he looks at his baby. The baby opens her big saphire blue eyes and giggles.
The End
I know this is stupid, but this whole writers block is really killing me and I feel bad that I haven't posted anthing in a while!
I was sitting here trying like heck to get past this writers block. I started jotting down everything that came to mind and this is what ended up on the paper. Enjoy
Writers Block
What is wrong with my head? Where are all those wonderful thoughts that used to flow so easily? I no longer see the colors, shapes or cars. I only see a gapping void. As I sit staring into the darkness that is writers block I search for lines that I can not find. For rhymes that I can not rhyme. For mimes that can not...OH FOR HEAVENS SAKE!!! Why can I not concentrate? Why does my mind keep jumping from one track to anodder, like a train without a rudder???? No wait trains don't have rudders boats do. OH HELL I'M DONE!!
Music is holy, art is sacred, and creativity is power
Everyday is EARTH DAY to a farmer
"Always forgive your enemies; nothing annoys them so much." Oscar Wilde
Some men are drawn to oceans, they cannot breathe unless the air is scented with a salty mist. Others are drawn to land that is flat, and the air is sullen and is leaden as August. My people were drawn to mountains- Earl Hamner Jr.
Good idea, when something drives you mad, don't try and figure it out, just describe it. Don't worry, it will pass. It always does.
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Compassion is the sometimes fatal capacity for feeling what it is like inside somebody else's skin. It is the knowledge that there can never really be any peace and joy for me until there is peace and joy finally for you too. - Frederick Buechner
If society prospers at the expense of the intangibles, how can it be called progress?
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Celeste,
That's my approach =) When you want to write something, but don't know what to write, just write every word or fraction thereof which comes to your head. It'll probably sound and read like crap, but something excellent may come of it. And even if it doesn't, then I generally find that better streams often come easier afterwards.
Try turning on your favorite music, let it wash over you til the words just flow like water. I find that helps when I am writing my current Sci-Fi Novel. HUUUGLE TIGHTLY! Love,
just a little note to thank you all for your wonderful words! I appreciate all the positive feedback, it makes posting all my private thoughts so easy! Thank you guys!!
I've been dealing with some issues with my mother for a few years. unfortunately I can't tell her everything I would like to. I know why, but it still annoys me. So I did the next best thing and wrote poem about it. Well at least the writers blocks gone.
Yes Mother, It's Me
Yes mother, it's me. You know, the one you hate to look at sometimes because I remind YOU of "HIM"
I'm sorry I can't look more like my sisters.
Yes mother, it's me. You know, the one you think does EVERYTHING you tell her not to, just to drive you crazy.
You give me too much credit mother. I'm not that creative.
Yes mother, it's me. You know, the one that got married without you.
Hurts doesn't it?
Yes mother, it's me. You know, the one that can't ever seem to do anything right no matter how hard she tries.
One day I just might stop trying.
Yes mother, it's me. You know the "trailer trash" of the family.
Obviously SOMEONE forgot where she came from. Forgot that it was "HIM" that bought the first TWO houses you and your current husband lived in.
Yes mother, it's me. You know, the one that for some reason can't tell you exactly whats on her mind because she doesn't want to hurt you.
Thats never been a problem for you though, has it?
Yes mother, it's STILL me. The one that will love you no matter what.
This post has been edited by Celeste of the Stars1 on 30-Nov-2003, 08:44 AM
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