This post is dedicated to all our readers, and friends. Yesterday Poetics101 reached a massive 1000 pageviews! Without the help of you all, our faithful readers, we would not have been blessed with such newly-found popularity. No matter where you found out about the blog: Ask.fm, Facebook, Twitter, etc. We give our acknowledgement to everybody. Also, recognition to all those who have commented, whether anonymously or non-anonymously. Additional gratitude goes to Samie Khan and Hamza Danish. Without their friendship, and advertising back-up, Abdullah and I could not have achieved such greatness. Remember that we are just writers. Only with readership support can we go the distance, and turn our official publication dreams to a reality. Bless all of you - and most of all - Thank You!
Whispering in small, invisible voices Strange and mysterious Opportunities pass me by Like the scintillating snowflakes falling from the sky That melt when they touch the skin Leaving the sensation of regret and of guilt As a chilly, deathly wind blows These snowflakes fall into the soiled snow Piled high, covering the entire street This graveyard of opportunities Ignored and unseen. Upon this snow, stands a snowman With a furry coat, a colourful hat And a big, comical smile on his face For a moment, light reflects off his surface Sunlight,as it manages to briefly escape the clouds All around, A dazzling yellow glow For me it my be a symbol of hope Yet for the snowman it spells his death. But still he got his chance in the end To have lived, to be content and happy Unlike me And unlike the homeless man that shivers on the bench Whose only protection is a tattered blanket. The snowflakes fall down like his invisible tears His face contorted, teeth clenched, in...
Note: Inspired by Darren Shan's 'The Saga Of Darren Shan' and 'The Saga of Larten Crepsley.' The vampire arrives at town Glad to have found civilization, sighs happily out loud With his stomach rumbling for blood, determined to feed He slinks through the still, rainy streets Making sure no one is around He enters through the window of a dark, quiet house Into a room of a sleeping couple in bed. He makes a cut in the woman's exposed leg And drinks the sweet, savory blood. Looks up after he has quenched his thirst And is stunned, no, not by her beauty and allure But because he had seen her before. His eyes fall on her ear, running down it a small scar And he sputters out blood as the memories hit him like a stake through the heart. He's walking down the street in the bright afternoon Basking in the sunlight, whistling a tune Suddenly, around the corner, he hears a loud cry of pain And he rushes forward to help; half-afraid A pretty, youn...
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