More Poetry

This is what happens when I go to math class in the evening with a lack of sleep.

Math Class

Numbers and letters swirl,

Across the board they spread. 

Teacher speaks words I cannot comprehend.

My head dips, my paper moves.

I can't think, 

A great fog covers my head.

And my mortal form demands sustenance.

My mouth opens wide in a yawn.

A spaceship, a sword and a coffee

Pop in amidst the numbers.

Click my phone, find the time,

Another 45 minutes to go.

I wish I had my calculator,

I love my teacher's markers.

Only four minutes have gone by, 

Which rhymes with five.

Peas and pods and variables

None have anything to do with me.

I have the TARDIS on my phone!

It's 5:08, time is running slow.

Late to bed, early to rise, 

Definitely does not not make a man wise.

Papers, words and grammar all in one night.

Sleep? It's overrated.

So. More poetry. I was thinking I might dedicate one day to poetry and write a poem once a week. Because, surprisingly, I'm finding myself enjoying this. Good idea? Bad idea? Let me know what you think!

Until I've had sleep, 

Robin

Stick Girl

Once upon a time, there was a little girl.

Stick Girl was a happy child. She liked to play pretend; she would pretend almost anything. 

She imagined herself as a pioneer on the Oregon Trail, a sailor on a ship, 

an Elf in Middle Earth at the time of the War of the Ring, a Jedi apprentice who seemed a magnet for trouble.

She imagined herself as an orphan in an orphanage, part of poor British family in London, or an inhabitant

of CandyLand.

When she wasn't pretending, she was writing stories or reading stories. 

But no matter how many different lives she led, she knew who she was; she never wondered who she was.

She was sure.

But at last, the inevitable happened.

Something Stick Girl had always dreaded.

She began to grow up.

It was subtle at first.

She almost didn't notice.

But when she did, she railed against her fate, but she could not change it.

Until one day, when she realized; the change had come whether she wanted it or not.

Now she looks more like this:

And she is no longer sure.

She leads less lives than she did, yet struggles now to find her place.

She asks, "Who IS Stick Girl?"

Something she used to be sure of.

She still writes stories, and she still reads them, but much else has changed.

It's been years since she last pretended she was a Jedi, or any other of those things.

School, work and sports have taken up much of the time she to spend playing.

Instead of playing pretend with her friends, now she simply sits talks.

Most of the time she is still happy.

But other times, she wonders.

"What happened?" She wonders.

She cares for things now she never did before: Her hair; her clothes.

She struggles to find herself, despite that now she lives only one life instead of many as she did before.

Sometimes she wishes for the old days back.

The times when everything was simpler.

A time when she could be whoever she wanted and still be herself.

She wonders when everything changed.

And she wonders why.

It's a Monday

Today at school I got bored. And so I did the same thing I always do when I get bored: Pick up a pen. Only today, I did something a little different. I wrote a poem. Or tried to. You see, I'm not all that good at poetry, and I don't know that this even counts as poetry, since it doesn't follow much of a pattern, and doesn't really rhyme. But it came straight from my head of it's own accord, and was inspired in half from a character in a book. (If you name the book and character, I will send you chocolate through my computer screen) Anyways, here it is!

Screams

He weeps,

He holds death

In his hands.

They haunt him.

Screams, screams.

The voices of many,

Voices of the Lost Ones

The lonely assassin.

They haunt him.

Screams, screams.

He closes his eyes.

Still he sees them;

He cannot hide. 

They haunt him.

Screams, screams.

He sees their faces,

Blood drips down,

It proclaims his guilt.

They haunt him.

Screams, screams.

Sharp blade of steel,

Instrument  of death.

He holds in his hand.

They haunt him.

Screams, screams.

He wonders, "Why?"

Bloody footprints 

Trail behind.

They haunt him.

Screams, screams.

They hurt him. 

His soul twisted

In agony cries.

They haunt him.

Screams, screams.

And there you have it. I promise I'm not like suicidal or anything. It's just easier to write sad stuff than happy stuff. But I am not depresses; I swear! That's all for now, so have a lovely Monday, everyone! Except it's a Monday, which makes that statement a complete contradiction, but whatever. =)

Until I can think again, 

Robin

A Tribute to a Wonderful Villain

Warning: This post contains minor spoilers for Avatar the Last Airbender. If you have not seen the whole series, read at your own risk!!!


That sounds bad. I'm not an evil psychopath or something, I promise. Even though I'm writing a tribute to a villain. And who is this best of evil terrors? She is filled with a cool hatred, a calm, calculated wrath. She cares nothing for life; killing with impunity.

Azula. She is one of the best written villains I've ever seen. As a part of the audience, she terrifies and horrifies me. As a writer, I find her wonderful. She does everything a good villain does. Her calm disregard for life and ability to do whatever she needs to get what she wants is more frightening than Zuko's burning anger. Zuko is made less frightening simply by virtue of the fact that he does everything he does for a reason. He is driven to his actions by his anger and passion; his desire to regain the honor he feels he's lost. He is a villain I can sympathize with. Azula on the other hand does everything she does because she can. Or you could say because she wants power. She didn't lose something she feels she needs to regain, she's not trying to prove herself or anything like that. She simply wants power. Power to command others. The way she's written shows her consuming desire and her seemingly unflappable nature. Normally being unflappable is considered a good trait, but around Azula it just leads to more deaths. She does not care how many people die in order for her to get what she wants. She enjoys it when people cringe and cower before her. She loves the idea that she has power over others. Her friends are her friends only because they fear her. And she likes it that way. *SPOILERS*  But in the end her quest for power drives her to madness.

She begins to suspect everyone around her of coveting her power. She begins to fear. She sends everyone away in order to save her power, but she only hastens on her own demise. She allows herself to lose her cool logic in an attempt to protect her power from others. She believes herself invincible and yet sees enemies in every shadow of the fire.

She allows her thirst for power to destroy her and in the end is beaten by Zuko and Katara. The woman who starts out as one of the most frightening villains I've ever seen to an insane, pitiable creature. She allows thirst for power to not only corrupt her but to destroy her. She was written well; terrifying, horrifying, and in the end, pitiable.