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1,098 results · Page 14 of 46Play this collection ▷
09c. 2014 AD
Happiness found me alone one day and took me by the hand.He showed me how the sun gave out its warmth across the land.Sadness found me content and smiling upward at the sun.He talked of droughts and blindness and what burning rays had done.Happiness found me alone again and pointed to the sky.He showed me how the storms created rainbows way up high.Sadness found me intrigued and took me to the rainbow’s end.He showed me how it disappeared to ne’er return again.Happiness found me alone and taught me how to sing a song.He sang a dozen melodies as I chirped right along.Sadness found me singing out and covered up his ears.He said the noise was deafening, and wished he couldn’t hear.Happiness found me alone and gave me seven coins of gold.He showed me many fancy things that merchants often sold.Sadness found me admiring the pretty things I’d bought.He pointed out my empty purse and money I had not.Happiness found me alone and helped me talk to someone new.He called the boy my friend and said that I was his friend too.Sadness found me together with my kind, attentive friend.He whispered of betrayal and how broken hearts don’t mend.Happiness found me alone and held me tight in his embrace.He whispered kindness in my ear and kissed me on the face.Sadness found me with Happiness but before he spoke at all,I told him he’d have better luck at talking to the wall.
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16c. 2014 AD
WRITER'S NIGHTMARE""I felt a grip on my arm that shook my body, forcefully pulling me toward a tunnel of darkness. The threat of consciousness stole my steady breath. For a moment I believed myself to be under siege; ripped from the sky in mid flight, my wings useless against the monstrous claws shredding my reality. I struggled to remain, to be left alone, aloft. Reaching with wings that through the power of imagination were suddenly feathered arms, I grabbed at the air. My hands clutched at something solid. Wooden. A desk. My head spun as I held the furniture, suffering the illusion of falling. "I was flying," I gasped, realizing suddenly that it had all been a dream. "My best fantasy ever." Lifting my head from its resting spot on the writing desk, I worked mentally to secure the fading images, hoping to capture their essence to memory before they faded away forever. Bitterness tainted my heart against the hand that had jerked me into sensibility. Why was I always so callously awakened while doing my best work? Why not let me dream?
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18c. 2014 AD
What if stars were the glimmering tears of a giant, welling in his cheeks, waiting to fall at the first tender stroke of emotion? What if the moon were a wide-open eye gazing down on our tiny, little world and its tiny, little inhabitants as they rush to and fro in pursuit of tiny, little dreams? What if the sun were the glowing heart of a great beast, pumping hot blood to keep him alive while providing warmth for our pitiful world? Ahhh, imagination; it is a wondrous thing!
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