This May Night

There’s a little girl whose mother rents a room in my grandfather’s house.

I was sitting on a pillow in my bedroom, when all of a sudden i heard her begin to cry.Not a discontent cry or a whine but a blood churling scream. She came out into the living room. I opened my bedroom door and looked anxiously at her.My heart started to beat too fast. She was bawling ‘My mummy’s gone!’ It made my skin crawl and I got an ache in my brain.
Slowly, I walked into her mother’s room, expecting to see her mother’s body in a limp heap on the bed or floor. I was terrified beyond emulation. Old memories of death stories came back to me. I was so scared. As I walked inside,around the doorway, i saw no body. I sighed, realizing that the room was empty. Her mother had gone to the store, i rapidly presumed. I exhaled in relief.

Then I noted foolishness.. Children don’t use euphemisms. ‘My mummy’s gone,’ was not the way a child would express mourning in relation to death.

Getting happy off your happy

I think i can smother all of the pain that you’ve lit like a fire inside of me, if every once and a while I could be sure that you were absolutely happy with her or your newest missus. As long as the dimple in your right cheek is as clear and sparking as the pain in my watery eyes.. I’ll know you’ve reached the happiest you can humanly be. Its okay, i’ll assure myself, that you found someone who you wanted more than you wanted me.It’s okay.


My continuous poem.. From last year


  The Continous Poem.
   She’s the ladybug.
He’s the parrot.
Lies, lies
Cant disguise my blush.Grrrrr. anger stems from sadness. I wish to annililate the encryption you just mailed ={ I will coerce your affections, and drive needles into your arms. Love me
. Catch me. Yay, im a peach. No, you cheeky fool, A new yorkian peach. Not a georgian PEACH.ripe and juicy. Sweet and red. UGH.dont stare, dont touch. i dont want your infections infecting me.i’ve got places to be. See me later.
Ello with a smile, but dont awayke tickle smickle ran away the pickle.
Heart beat of a boy and the smile of a girl. If ever he loves me. Ill spin in a whirl.

Grab your happiness

I want to grab your happiness and take it with me from away from this wretched place. I can’t stand being alone, so I lure you in with a caring ear and pursed lips.I enthrall you with poetic rhymes and swinging chimes. The singing from my lips guides your eyes down to my hips .Already you love me..
From Anabelle Smithe

From today, i will appreciate

looking in on my characters from the outside in. I will paint from the outside and see what story life burgeons from within. I can no longer reside amongst  them,  for it makes my stories redundant. Also:


I will appreciate the little things and write about them more often, so that a knitted quilt of numerous tales will cover my  life’s story.

The simple beautiful things

The simple beautiful things