All posts filed under: Creative Writing

Golden Orange Hues

Golden hues filter in through the window As night falls slowly and the air becomes crisp. In the distance, the bridge’s towers gently pierce the tinted sky And the waves roll in, crashing softly, Coming and going, coming and going. A woman sings sweetly Playing gorgeous melodies with her guitar. The travelers listen intently, enraptured. The magic is palpable, created with each song And destroyed once again with each forthcoming silence. The guitar allows itself to be strummed generously, As the darkness outside engulfs everything in its path. The warm lights inside the cafe are cozy and welcoming, Offering a safe space to connect, to write, to dream, To breathe in the beauty of this moment And of this life. Mahalo, soul of mine, For your generous gifts of song, of word, of breathtaking views, And of pure light. Photo by: Belén Alemán

She

She felt herself a victim of the world, of this cruel and unequal place into which she was born without a say. She was told she had to conform to society, but society was difficult and unfair and chaotic, and not at all what her mind, body, and soul required to achieve that inner peace to which she was told she must strive. There were too many pressures, constantly and from all sides, enough to make any human go mad. She thought herself a fighter, always seeking to do justice, but felt cut short not by her own faults, rather by a lack of resources. She craved time, yet never felt she could afford to make it. She would watch others attempt to follow their dreams and would think, “Oh, what fools!” She would see them fail and fall and dust themselves off and try, try again, and again, and again, until finally she would stop paying attention from the dizziness it caused her. Whenever she paused to think and re-consider her path in life …

Again

You were the only person I saw at that moment; the only one I could focus on. I wasn’t expecting you to be there, but oh, what a lovely surprise. I caught the smile in your eyes when you saw me. It was a brief, vulnerable smile that you did not have time to disguise. My favorite type of look: honest and open and bare and raw. And real. This is real talk. The kind you don’t get to hear or read everyday. The kind that escapes my mind and flows through my fingers and onto this page because my brain has been spinning at such a fierce speed since I first saw you that I needed to find an outlet and a way to hold myself steady. Run-on sentences help. They run with me, but they don’t let me stop to catch my breath. Who are you? How do you do this to me so easily? You sparked something in me that I’ve been trying to tame, a passion so deeply rooted that, when I …

One Day, You

For a writer, there’s nothing worse than choking on the very words you’ve been desperately trying to cough out, and then, at the final moment, realizing you’ve drained them of their necessary air. For a writer, there’s nothing worse than knowing you have a deep ocean inside of you, from which words struggle to swim up, and up, and up, against strong currents imposed by you and no one else, only to watch them drown before reaching the surface. For a writer, you’re quite the trained killer. Who feels it but me? Who hears it but me? Who perceives it but me? Who bears it but me? I’ve been trying to spit something out for weeks. I’ve tried both languages. I’ve listened to music to inspire my thoughts and feelings (oh, these feelings!). I’ve tried to revive memories that still sting and sizzle as they make contact with my reality… And yet… And yet. Could it be? With so much to say? Really? Is this how it has to be? Just imagine: it’s all because …

Untitled

I stood firmly on the cooling, white sand, Feet shoulder-length apart, Feeling the weight of my camera underneath my bare hands, The warm breeze softly enveloping me in its gentle caress As the sun, barely visible now over the distant horizon, Played with the clouds and helped them taint the sky with mild hues of yellow and gray. The familiar smell of sun-tan lotion emanated from my skin Mixing in with the unique fragrances of a midsummer evening’s dream. Seagulls wove in and out of my line of vision, Floating up above as if threatening to strike, Trying to instill a fear in me that would never exist For I was much too accustomed already to this sight. The events of the day hung lazily in the air, Slowly becoming part of the memories I would never share With people I would never meet. Cheerful words, piercing looks, joyful laughter, Maybe even some tears from a mischievous child… All lingered for a few eternal seconds Before finally being replaced by a peaceful silence Aided by …

A Series of Random Events

Spend a wonderful Sunday with my old roommates watching fútbol matches on a homemade big screen that hangs from a wooden beam in the living room. Say “see you guys soon” to everyone, take the T, make my way into the very poorly designed South Station bus terminal. Stand in line, talk to Mami on the phone for a few. See a cute guy; look away. Get on the bus and scan the scene for remaining seats. The cutie has a free one next to him, but would it look desperate if I sat there? Let’s not risk it. Keep moving down the aisle, find an empty window seat near the back. Sit down, put earphones in, head against the rest, eyes closed. Breathe in. Breathe out. It’s been a fun weekend. Open eyes. The last few stand-by passengers stream in. Tall, good looking guy asks if he can sit next to me. Silly question, of course he can. Quietly mind my own business, until he asks how long the ride is… Skip ahead four …

Secret Hiding Place

Certain nights I fall from grace Certain days I cannot escape This dangerous state of mind My masochistic way of life The darkness and the cold Cowering behind all of my lies… No one was prepared to care No one was ready to delve Deeply into my fake reality Which caused me to lose control Over my body, my mind, my soul… All along I was waiting to die Not physically, but emotionally Tied down by my self-imposed chains Which I could never sever For fear of being hurled steadily Out of existence… Only you understood my pain Only you were able To pull me up Out of the depths of my cave… Your presence renews my faith. It is thanks to you That I can live on today With few regrets from yesterday Because you accepted me for me And you came to love The person I have grown to be. It is into your arms That I want to fall Keeping me safe from harm And guiding me through it all… They are …