Ode to you

You are you,
I am I.
You read,
I sing,
you dance,
I ring,
we smile.
Both people,
different passions;
both equal,
different companions.
Gliding through your
way I'll be,
when you smile and laugh.
But the golden way will
you lead me, when
I'm upset
and crying.
I never shall
lose hope in you;
only that you,
you, you, you,
write poetry,
and I;
I, I, I, play songs.
Our love is not defining,
and I shall be so happy,
forevermore.

Haiku(s) for the Sea

It is beautiful
So sensational, blue,
Happy and joyful

The loud seagulls,
The cries of happy children,
Can you feel the sand?

Immense as the sky,
Serenely the waves crash
At the joyous beach

You laugh happily,
You smile, as the golden sun sets:
the seagulls silent.

Ode to dogs

They are of great joy:

those bundles of happiness,

energetic,

happy.

Those fast-swishing tails dart in the park,

and the loyal eyes glisten, as though in the dark.

The dark, damp wet nuzzles,

sniff at your knees,

and you laugh,

overjoyed,

and they bark,

overflowed,

and you restart the chase

one again.

In the blackest of days and the rainiest nights,

you won't be alone,

you won't be out-flown,

for there will be a friend to cuddle.

A friend to cuddle,

A friend to cuddle,

A friend to cuddle.

Years after,

you'll remember the times,

those loyal,

amazing partners

helped you in life.

helped you in life,

helped you in life.

To survive.

Ode to Roses

They are red as blood,

white as snow,

pink as candy,

and many more.

They have fresh, deep smell,

Sending shivers up your neck.

They contain delicate beauty;

so much meaning,

and love,

and magic;

they're almost tragic.

But how could they be,

as they're so soft,

careful,

and honest?

So sweet,

so keen to raise

their buds

up in the sky,

up into the blue,

daisy-like,

sea-like,

ocean-like heaven

of clouds.

How can they be blamed?

How can they be cut?

How can they be ripped out of the ground,

and separated from their many unique families,

and torn ruthlessly out of the soil that

you so carefully planted in your front garden,

or back-garden,

or anywhere else?

Sure to be living a long life,

full of beauty

and magic,

full of sorrow-less,

sin-less,

days,

they are.

Lest we forget them in years to come,

or let the gold planet never shine:

the sun.

And lest we keep singing,

this song to the flowers,

of many kind,

of different kind,

of the same use:

to make us happy,

to make us feel free,

to make us

feel

sin-less,

beyond

the degree.

This ode is for them,

to contain much emotion,

to make others think,

before they touch

what don't own.

This ode shall be for roses.

Many Faces

Oh, hi there again. Hah, guess I am a girl of many faces! Or, let's say, sides.

You think I'm dumb,
You think I'm crazy,
But I'm just so proud -
And a little lazy

This is a very "interesting" poem. Not even a proper now, I think.
So what I mean is, last month I was into colouring and painting; I still love doing so (and mind, I might as well upload a post telling on how to use the wet-on-wet technique later this week), of course, it's just that I do it a little less. As I said before, watercolours truly amaze and challenge me, so I will probably never give up on that.

So well.  A couple of days ago, my mum got me a great, little blue ukulele, and I promised to take care of it. It's really fun to play, but my guitar  is still a little better, for it will forever stay my true hobby. My advise is, if you are planning on getting yourself a ukulele, be prepared that:
a. It will perhaps be not tuned,
b. your fingers might feel very soft and delicate, and:
c. you will most likely get very frustrated with it at times.

Just let your fingers relax; and as for the tuning, I have this app that helps tune my ukulele. I think it's spectacular, but, however, sometimes not exactly accurate. I'm not even sure if it's fake or not, so I'd better check on that one.

Just one little note for guitar lovers out there:
It is rather different from what you expected.

4/04/2018

Hello people.

I hadn't written for a while - for I was just too busy painting! Yep, that's right; I just got  random passion for painting, just a few week ago, so yesterday I went and bought myself some extra watercolour paints. And they are ah-mazing!
No... seriously. All the curves and lines and circles blend in perfectly - it's like a pastel dream when you know what you're drawing (not that I do, but it's still fun!).

I haven' drawn anything particular... just some obstruct, weird, blend-in pictures - but I'm still kinda proud of myself.
By the way - follow me on Storybird: Melody14

How To Get Inspiration/Am I good enough?!

I sometimes ponder over this question. Actually, I do a lot. And I always ask myself "Is my story good enough?", "Is having a book with only 20 pages a bad thing?", and - usually - "DO I really want to ditch this plot and go start a new story?"
Well, here are some helpful tips (not only from me)!

1. For this one, pretend I'm the bully and you're the young writer.
Me: Hey, you. Who even has an idea like that?  Like, have you ever heard of turtles with spikes on their backs and those "steely red" eyes? Nuh-uh. Those little clowns are just humiliating!
You: They are supposed to look weird. The villain in my story is mad, and he's a cereal killer, and he has funny things in mind going on... so you shouldn't judge.

2. Now pretend my name is BigNiceMeanie. I walk up to you and say...
Me: I really don't understand how you can call "water" one of your powers. I get it - it's funny - but like, who does that again?
You: Look, BigNiceMeanie. I know that we all have different tastes. Thankyou for telling me your opinion on my magical world, but I really would like to continue with my lovely story. I'm sorry if I disappointed you.

3. Now, let's switch sides. I'm the little book bookworm, sitting under an aspen tree. And you are the obsessed video-gamer (not that there's anything wrong with being one!). 
Me: I absolutely love Ginny Weasley...
You: I don't get books. They are useless!
Me (shrugging my shoulders): Hm. I like reading books. They take you places.

Now, the thing that you all probably came here for: how to get inspired. Here are some of the situations that you might find yourself stuck in...

1. I am sitting on the couch, my netbook open, reading all of my ten pages that I've written so far. When I finish reading, I say... "My story is so cringy... my teacher definitely won't like it's adjectives. Oh, and I don't feel like writing anymore..."
well, here's what you do: you give yourself a break. And then next time you go to a café or a restaurant, I take a notebook and a pencil with me. So whenever I hear an interesting word, a phrase, or a name being mentioned, I jot it all down. I know it sounds wrong, but - even weird parts of conversations that I overhear, I still write the, down.
When I cone home, I give myself a rest for a couple of days; do some diy's, watch some cat videos, dress up as a unicorn - whatever.
And when I feel like it, I just open my notebook again, and re-read everything I've written down. Then, I jot down ideas and try writing a little bit on my computer. If it works, then great!, but if it doesn't - don't stress. You can start a new story, or just give yourself a couple more days of rest - but do not ever delete your story. Please!

2. "What's wrong, darling?" my mum asks you.
I look at her, my face beginning to relax. "Mark-Thomas-Dory-Cotton-Clark-poop just told me at school that my story was rubbish. and I worked on it so hard!"
My mum smiles. "Not enough people in the world appreciate the work of others. All they care about is themselves. But I guarantee you - that when you finish your debut novel, people will sure notice it. That's definite!"

The Cave

 I woke up, my eyes beginning to adjust to the plain darkness. I stood up, my veins pulsing loudly and blood boiling. I could feel the cold, somewhat queer stone on my feet; the odd, deafening silence and the agony that I felt in my left knee.

 “I have to get out... right now” I told myself, taking a couple shaky, fragile steps into the darkness. I could feel my knees buckling. “Lisa will be so worried if I don’t return home in time...”

 And I instantly remembered my beautiful, 14-year-old old sister, Lisa. Oh, how beautiful and ethereal she was, how dainty and graceful – so full of motion and happiness. Oh, she’s the only thing I’ve got. “I have to return home...”

 Suddenly, a gust of icy wind blew in my face, and I felt myself startle.

Instantly, a candle was lit, and I saw a broken, mahogany stool on which the candle stood. The golden, beckoning flames seemed to dance around me as though I was lost in furious, fire. But all I could do was take it and keep going, for it seemed like the only bit of light that was left in this dark place.

Now I could see that it was a kind-of cave; the grey stone-walls, the hard rock ground, water dripping from somewhere above - most likely the unfathomable, high ceiling.

 Then I heard it; a gasp, a moan. A shudder, a flick. A breath, a heart-beat. Then a smoky-white, ghostly figure shot right at me!

 As it came closer, closer, the thin hand reached out for my heart. As it’s cold, dreadful fingers seemed to close around my soul, close around my heart, I felt myself catching my breath and falling to the floor, with a particularly-vibrant crash. I tried gulping for air, but it seemed like the spirit seemed to create a choking, little box around me, so that light nor oxygen could pass right through it.                                                                                                                          

With a start, I felt my heartbeat slowing to a minimum, my lungs aching and squeezing really hard inside, my skin becoming pale and cold. So pale, that it seemed to gleam for seconds. I felt so out-of-control, so wild, as though something has just gone terribly wrong with my brain, and I have turned from a normal, healthy boy, to a mad zombie…                                                          

I looked around frantically, and suddenly I could see a silvery, maddened shape. Looking at the thing’s face made my head loll to one side, my eyes half-open. With my perhaps-last breaths, I held the gaze with the it. Before I cold do anything else, the translucent eyes-holes sank into me like knife-edged disks, and I closed my eyes.

 Hours, or maybe days later, I woke up, realizing that I could breathe normally again. Looking around, I suddenly saw someone gazing tenderly at me; the light-blue eyes stared at me with love, and the soft lips were suddenly shaped into a smile. “Max... I love you.” and that was Lisa.

2/04/2018

2/04/2018 UPDATE

I haven't been doing an "extraordinary word" for today, because I don't know what the word should be. Should it be "fragile"? "Dainty"? "aquiver"? I can't decide. Maybe I won't be doing "daily" extraordinary words. What do you think?

Book review (A wrinkle in Time)

Book Review (A Wrinkle in Time)

As you've already read above, I'm going to tell you a bit about "A Wrinkle in Time". So. Let me start this review with telling you that you are not being nerdy if you read a book that was written more than thirty years ago and is turning into a movie just now (hipppeee!). Now, it's quite the opposite - for if you read a book that was not written in the 21st century, there are really lots of inspiring and weird words and phrases that you could use in your future stories. By the way... I don't really like reading old-fashioned books, I'm more into modern stuff (if you call Harry Potter modern!), but this book has really gone a long way.

Small Outline: Meg and her little (but smart!) brother, Charles, find three weird ladies called Mrs. Who, Mrs. Whatsit and Mrs. Which. Actually, Charles finds them at first, and then when they go for a walk they go into their house but...

back to the outline. Meg (Margaret) and Charles (Charles Wallace) go for a walk one day after the furious storm strikes and Mrs. Whatsit's comes into their house to have some tea, (for she was lost), and meet a bully called Calvin. Calvin calls them a moron, but they still make friends pretty soon, and so they all go to the Mrs W's house.

A couple of hours later, Calvin comes home with them to meet Meg ad Charles's twin siblings and Mrs. Murry herself. Later on, Calvin asks where is Mr. Murry, and Meg replies by saying that he had gone off "somewhere", and they hadn't gotten any letters from his since last year.

Now, I'm sorry, but I kind of forgot what follows next... I promise guys, I finished the book on Friday at 7 something a.m. Ok. Let's just say that the three Mrs W's and the kids (including Calvin!), are sucked into a "wrinkle in time". They travel from planet to planet, trying to save Meg's father from the almighty IT. 

Star rating: 4/5. (Pretty good, but some parts seemed to go on for a bit too loonnnnnggg....!)!

1/04/2018 Something about my day

                Something about my day

Happy Easter everybody!

Hello everyone. I just wanted to tell you something about how my day went - you know, the usual ups and downs - the life of a writer (hehehe - just joking!)...

Firstly, I started off my day with painting a picture on my (new!) water-coloured pad with my (new!) acrylic paints that I got yesterday. I ended up with a picture that I named "human mind", or that's the way I see it, anyhow; I liked experimenting with the obstruct style of painting.

By the way, my favourite famous painting is called "The Luncheon of the Boating Party at Bougival". It's really soo beautiful - sadly, the painter became famous only after he died.

Afterwards, I did all the usual "morning things" and went to the gym with my dad (I hate going there - but still have a bit of common sense to stay fit and lift my body off the sofa!) - which was ever so boring, sadly.

A couple of hours after that, me and my family got our things and went down to the city to watch yet another (boring!) classical concert which my parents booked.

Actually, honestly, it wasn't that boring.

That was probably everything about my day - nah, nearly as usual.

By the way - don't forget to tune in tomorrow, for I will be releasing a new short story on this web. Bye!

That, by the way, is the painting..........