Your assignment is to go online and find a picture of an adult face that interests you. Study it. Then write a piece, in poetic or narrative form, that describes what experiences have shaped that face. Why does it look the way it does? What has this person gone through? Create a story for the individual and the marks upon their face.
Make sure to copy and paste the link to the picture at the top of your response, as a reference (since you cannot post images into the comment section).
Length - 400 words.
Due - Thursday
Hint: Search for "portrait," since the word "face" has some issues.
https://www.google.com/search?hl=en&site=imghp&tbm=isch&source=hp&biw=1280&bih=929&q=faces&oq=faces&gs_l=img.3..0l10.1618.2561.0.2768.5.4.0.1.1.0.107.280.3j1.4.0....0...1ac.1.31.img..0.5.289.90TSFwlI89E#facrc=_&imgdii=_&imgrc=DpfCABI69h8psM%3A%3BkcL5J6e8bHmiIM%3Bhttp%253A%252F%252Fmedia02.hongkiat.com%252Fsurreal-faces%252Fthe-skin.jpg%3Bhttp%253A%252F%252Fwww.hongkiat.com%252Fblog%252Fsurreal-faces-artworks%252F%3B600%3B600 “come on just do it all the kids are doing it and you act like it’s going to kill you or something its harmless” they said to chuck “ok” I’ll try it one time but that’s it after that I’m not doing it anymore. He tried it for his first time it felt good to him he felt on top of the world but didn’t realize what it was doing to him all he thought was a good feeling and a good time with his friends. So when the next time came for him to do it he didn’t hesitate to say no, he was all for it. So when the next time came along he did it with the same friends he did it last time with, but this time it was a different approach he wasn’t sure what was going on but he looked around everyone seemed fine to him. He looked around outside, everything looked different the houses got bigger, the trees got taller, the sky got clearer, something like a cartoon. When he looked around he felt as though he was in some kind of movie but just wasn’t sure. Something like a cartoon movie. Him and his friends walked into the house and when he opened the door for his friends he suddenly thought he was inside of a game but didn’t know what was going on, he was confused when they got into his room he looked around and everything seemed normal again but he wasn’t acting like himself. Usually he would go in the kitchen and eat everything there was to snack on and or cook, but not this time he wasn’t even watching the movies and usually he loves to watch movies. A few minutes later his stomach started to hurt and he just felt sick to his stomach. He went in the bathroom and threw his brains up and was just laid out on the floor thinking “oh I’m Never doing this again I promise to myself”. A few months went by and he decided to do it again “well one little time wouldn’t hurt me now would it “. He decided to do it again but after he started doing it all the time things that he was doing started to change, he started picking up habits, the habits wasn’t good nor bad but they seemed to created who he was but he didn’t realize. When he would see someone do something cool he would pick it up just like that but him doing those things seemed to make up who he was. He didn’t start walking and talking different but maybe he was just creating himself. If he didn’t create himself then who would teach him how to be a man no one but himself. When he would get high and just sit there and think he kind of felt lost and confused. He sat there in his room looked around his room and though he was in some sort of jail and when he realized that that’s when everything changed.
ReplyDeletehttps://www.google.com/search?q=portrait&safe=off&source=lnms&tbm=isch&sa=X&ei=csuDUvLbItC1sAStv4C4Dw&sqi=2&ved=0CAcQ_AUoAQ&biw=1280&bih=929#facrc=_&imgdii=_&imgrc=3-YmBmGAxXlcGM%3A%3BxsMNmc7G5cPhXM%3Bhttp%253A%252F%252Fwww.russmcmullin.com%252Fblog%252Fwp-content%252Fuploads%252F2010%252F08%252Fralph-portrait-final.jpg%3Bhttp%253A%252F%252Fwww.russmcmullin.com%252Fblog%252F%253Fp%253D90%3B800%3B992
ReplyDeleteThey always talked about him but never talked to him. He just moved down the street a month or so ago. The man was completely unapproachable. He always seemed to be upset and when one greeted him, he kept going his way. He seemed to walk without a purpose. He took trips to the busier side of town and returned without bags, which was always so strange. Never did someone from this town go down town without a bag in their hand. No one ever took the time to get to know him but of course, one day I knew I would. I knew something was different about him. I remember on my morning jogs seeing him walk to the park and he talked to himself. The last person I met who talked to himself claimed to be speaking with a ghost. These people always have great stories to tell. Hearing what people said about him, made him seem like a scrooge. I had a different perspective of him though. I guess it’s because even after being ignored three times when I greeted him, I remained persistent and continued to say “Good morning, sir.” I did it out of respect, not for anything in return. Everyone else tends to never say it again after one time they’re ignored. One morning I jogged passed him, waved and greeted him…I got a “well Hello there” in return. I smiled due to my shock and surprisingly, so did he; his wrinkles seemed to lift into their original place. Once I saw him raking some leaves and I noticed he was in pain. At first he denied needing help but of course, I insisted. This was the perfect chance I had to talk to him and I learned a lot. All his memories seemed to include a woman named Grace. I asked who she was and his smile faded. It was his wife. She passed away a month or two ago, around the time that he moved here. Her death was the reason that he moved to my town. He needed some resignation because living in a house full of things that reminded him of her was depressing him. Their only son passed away a year before his wife’s passing—the old man was alone. This old man was always upset because he had no body. I would be sad too. He walked without purpose because he claims to have lost purpose in everything, even in life. He talks to himself because something inside of him makes him feel like Grace is listening. So there’s a background story to everything, people just never take the time to look past what they see. This grumpy old man, is a man full of stories and beautiful memories. The wrinkles on his face are the signs of a smile. A sign of the smile of a man who was happy about what once was.
I like the line about the wrinkles. This is a touching story, and it sounds so real.
DeleteOn the first day of training, I was still seventeen years old and still preparing for my upcoming advanced placement tests. One night, I was particularly stressed and fighting to stay awake when my foster parent, Jillian, opened the door and peeked her head in.
ReplyDelete“Kid, go take a walk or something. You’re on the verge of passing out.” She ducked of out the doorway and I heard her heavy footsteps clobber down the steps. The volume on the TV rose and I could hear the discovery channel blaring.
She’s right, I thought to myself. If I don’t wake myself up now, I’ll never get through the rest of these English notes. I piled up my notes and index cards on my nightstand and reached under my bed for my sneakers. Once I was all laced up, I grabbed my iPod and went to turn the lights off. Before flipping the switch, I stared at my schoolwork—all of my hard work for the past four years. It wasn’t easy to keep up my grades while skipping around from school to school with the foster system. Since freshman year, I have attended twelve different schools and lived with fourteen foster parents. Friends were not a luxury I was able to have and it was definitely lonely. Sometimes I would meet a nice person and we would hang out a day or two, but I was always getting whisked away. I was never bothered by my inability to meet my parents because if they were cowardly enough to weasel out of parenthood, then what interest should I have in meeting them? Even though I do not know their names, their faces, or even their favorite colors, I have been able to learn a great deal from their mistakes. Mainly, I have learned to take complete responsibility for my actions, regardless of how terrible or unintelligent there may be. Everyone makes mistakes, but the worst mistake of all is to deny that mistake altogether.
I shook my head to clear my thoughts and when the room went dark, so did my mind. That is one thing I am great at; I can clear mind perfectly when engulfed in darkness. It has come to be my friend after all these years. Whenever I would start to brood over my worst days, I would clamp my fingers over my eyelids and the blackness would soothe me.
I was unaware, however, that after this moment, I would not be returning to this room—to this life. Never again would I go by the name Keanu Lawson.
Really enjoying this. Just change "there" to they, and "Since Freshman year, I have" to had.
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ReplyDeleteIt was an arranged marriage, just as my parents’, grandparents’, and sisters’ wedding was. All women were subject to marry the man that our father’s chose, whether it be to settle a dispute, for financial stability, or to just simply get rid of us, we had no choice but to abide by their rules. Rejecting the marriage would only bring bad consequences, shame to the family, and we would be looked down upon and criticized. I thought positively, however, I was determined to make it a good marriage, to love my husband just as any woman should. I vowed to respect and cherish him, to be faithful, and to tend to his needs. The beginning of our marriage was wonderful; he loved me and respected me. But just a few months into the marriage I found out about his infidelity and when I questioned him and threatened to do the same, it only landed me a punishment. I could not get divorced and I could not run away because I could not support myself, so I stayed. Things quickly changed, he was not affectionate anymore. He turned to alcoholism and became very violent. I often got insulted, beat, left with markings on my face and body. It was truly horrific but I could not speak out against my husband, after all he was the one providing for me. I was awakened in the middle of the night once, he was drunk and I was sure he had completely lost his mind. He was much more violent and abusive than the usual and forced me to do things that I did not want to do. I felt lost, helpless. Blood dripped from the corner of my mouth after being punched and I could feel my eye swelling. Being a woman should not come with such a price, being a woman should not be a burden; it should not be something to be resentful of. So I spoke up. For the first time ever I refused to obey his orders, I tried to block every hit and I threatened to leave. This angered him because he felt empowered. He was raised to be superior because he was a man and for those few seconds I made him feel inferior… inferior to a woman. He was enraged. I fell to the ground after a blow to the head that left me dazed, almost unconscious. Then I felt the burn, the sting. My skin was disintegrating. My husband had thrown acid on me, as if I were some sort of a pest he had to eliminate, as if I were a creature without feeling. That was how I got these scars on my face, down my neck, and on my arms. It ate away at my skin, deformed my features. I like to think that I was quite beautiful once, but that does not matter now. People look away from me, they mutter under their breath, and I know I am disturbing to look at to a point in which people are afraid. He deprived me of a sense of smell and taste, I cannot see well either… But he is a man therefore he had the right to punish his wife and was in reason when he committed such a horrific crime. My family has disowned me, I cannot get a job in this condition, and surgery to reconstruct my face is too expensive. All that I have left are these scars, these awful scars.
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ReplyDeleteShe sat alone in the corner of her room. She hates school and she can’t stand everyone there. She grabbed her phone and put on her music. Listening to music makes her so much better, even though she listens to the sad music. Music is her only friend; the one she knows won’t make fun of her and will always be there for her if she needs it. She sat there in the corner thinking about what is breaking her down with the tear coming down her cheek. She thought about the people who she used to be friends with. They bring her down day by day with their stupid little comments. She thinks about everyone that doesn’t get her and they don’t even give her a chance. She hates school and everyone in it. She hates how she can’t walk to her next class without someone laughing at her or calling her names. She hates how she feels so alone in a world with so many people. She hates that she can’t even trust anyone. She feels that she can’t even trust her own mom at this point. She sat alone in her room, thinking why she always has to sit alone. She sits alone at the lunch table and she sits around nobody during class, because she has no friends in any of her classes. She didn’t want to even associate with anyone. Her only friend sometimes can’t even stand her. She gets criticized for everything she does. Her crying shows that she has been through so much and nobody wants to give her a chance. She lost her dad when she was nine years old. She has to live every day without her father, knowing that he is not coming back. She sits alone with nobody to care for her in the world. Her mom tries to help her, but she feels like it’s no use. The music makes her cry even more. She sat alone in her room thinking about why no one likes her. But then it came to her that it shouldn’t matter what everyone thinks about her. But the more she thinks about it, the more useless it becomes and then she sat back down, turned her music up louder and started to cry once again. She was hurt and she has been destroyed. Nothing can help her out of this now. She feels like this is never going to get better and she just can’t wait until she is completely done with school. She’s depressed and she just needs one friend.
https://www.google.com/search?hl=en&site=imghp&tbm=isch&source=hp&biw=1280&bih=929&oq=portrait+&gs_l=img.3...1311.2766.0.2889.9.6.0.0.0.0.0.0..0.0....0...1ac.1.31.img..9.0.0.4Fy5WF5R6_s&q=portrait#hl=en&q=portrait+of+beat+up+faces&tbm=isch&facrc=_&imgdii=_&imgrc=dp9h-Spt7PDQ-M%3A%3BYDI1v27wXohk9M%3Bhttp%253A%252F%252Fcdn.snarkfood.com%252Fwp-content%252Fuploads%252F2012%252F11%252Frihanna-beaten.jpeg%3Bhttp%253A%252F%252Fspeakoutlistenup.wordpress.com%252F2013%252F04%252F24%252Fchris-brown-and-rihanna-love-and-violence%252F%3B450%3B488
ReplyDeleteShe sat in the hospital bed with a miserable look upon her face. Her face was all bandaged up; she looked like a mummy that you would see in a movie. I’m a reporter and I went to go talk to her and ask her what her story is. I knocked on the door and when she looked my way I gave her a little smile. I asked her if she could think back to last night and explain everything she can remember. She took a deep breath and began.
“We were on our way to the grocery store and everything was all fine. For the past few weeks this boy has been texting me and calling me nonstop. I didn’t tell my boyfriend because I didn’t want to start any trouble. In the car my phone went off and I immediately shut it off. You can tell in his face that he got angry. I didn’t say anything because I thought maybe he would just get over it but of course he didn’t. He looked at me and said ‘who the hell is calling you’. I said that it was just some creepy guy I knew from my old job. I reassured him that it wasn’t anything he had to worry about. I knew he didn’t believe me because he started breathing heavy and he was mumbling. I was shocked. I never saw him get so angry before. I went and reached for his hand just to try and calm him down but right at that moment he pulled his hand back and punched me in my nose. He continued to hit me and I couldn’t do anything besides try and cover my face. You can obviously see that he is stronger than me by looking at my face. “
I couldn’t believe it. When I looked at her petite body and listened to her high pitch voice I couldn’t imagine some man beating on her. I felt terrible and I wanted to know more.
“Is that all’ I asked.
“Um well after he stopped hurting me, he got out of the car and walked away. I was at lost for words and I wasn’t really sure what to do next. I sat there staring at my reflection in the mirror and tears started pouring down my face. A couple minutes later the cops showed up and I figured that someone must have saw. That’s pretty much it. I told the cops what happened and now I’m here. I have no idea if they found my boyfriend; Well my ex-boyfriend now. They said I’m going to be able to leave the hospital tonight.”
I got up and shook her hand and said I was very sorry for what happened to her and thank you for telling me her story. After I left I went right back to my office so I can write about the awful story I was just told.
get over it, but of course
Delete"who is calling you?"
calm him down, but right
Awesome story. Very entertaining. You have a great imagination and voice to your writing.
http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-BoIgsDAU9Ns/TVPpwwxg6sI/AAAAAAAAAGg/6awny6GWfdk/s1600/A+%25289%2529.jpg
ReplyDeleteYou look at me, and what do you see? You see a strong woman with eyes that you are unable to read. You wouldn’t be able to see the pain that lies deep within me. I refuse to let it show. The pain that I feel will forever remain with me. You see a strong woman that backs down to nothing; and I don’t. I keep quiet and you could tell. I don’t have much of an inviting look, but I don’t mind. I’m fine by myself; I forced myself to be that way. Only once was someone able to read through me fully. She said she saw the pain deep within my eyes that no one could even imagine. Then she just simply asked, with a look of pity upon her face, “What happened?” I just remember looking with her as if I was confused to what she was asking. At first I was, but then I was just trying to cover up the fact that I wasn’t sure if I should open up to dear, old Mrs. Hattie. It wasn’t that I was scared she wouldn’t be there to listen to be, I just never told anyone my story. Then Mrs. Hattie grabbed my hand and squeezed it tight. That’s when I knew it was ok to tell it. This was a very big step in my life. I never share my story with anyone. It brings be back to a bad place and I don’t want others to have pity on me. Just thinking about this now gives me the chills all throughout my body. Just try to picture getting torn away from your child. My baby, Laney was all I had. He was my everything; it was him and I against the world. My Daddy wouldn’t have it though, there was no way he was letting my child into that house at such a young age. Since that day I haven’t been the same. I understand it was wrong to have my child young, but that didn’t give him the first to snatch my baby boy right out of my hands. I might have only known him for a short time, but that doesn’t make a difference. That was my baby, the love I had for him was unexplainable. Things just haven’t been the same since then. I walk around carrying all these emotions that I refuse to share or express.
backs down FROM nothing
DeleteI think you could turn this into a really effective short story. It's something to think about. Your writing is always compelling and thought-provoking.
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ReplyDeletePeople complain how their life is horrible
People take pain in many different ways
But Albert has never had a taste of happiness in his life
Wrinkles on his face may describe how old he is
But look deeper into them
They explain the sweat and tears he had to face just to get to his age
The indents in his face describe the hits puncturing his skin as a kid
Those bags you see under his eyes explain the sleepless nights he went through
People complain about how they can’t sleep for one night
He couldn’t sleep for several nights at a time, but yet he never complained
If he did sleep he would thank God for letting him
People can wear glasses and contacts
One of his eyes got tortured
The whip the aimed for his check went directly in his eye
But yet people complain about shampoo getting into their eyes
The other one is still hanging in there; barely
You say his nose is big?
Why make fun of it, you don’t know his life
His parents hated him
Not like any regular parent
They hit him continuously
They punched him and they hit his nose, they broke it
They let his nose heal on its own and it never healed correctly
But yet people complain about their life being horrible
But yet at the end of the day he found a way to smile
Can you continue to smile knowing that your whole family hates you?
I don’t think so
Just like any other person he loved
He loved a woman that never loved him back
She shut him out
She made fun of him
She wouldn’t accept his love
Now go on and say your life sucks again, think about how other people have it bad
You see that hat on his head
It’s a hat he found on the ground but people won’t wear one because they don’t like it
Think about how much that poor face had to go through
“He looks just like any other elderly” is what people say
But they don’t know his pain and problems they had to go through
But yet people still complain about how bad their life is
How bad they got it?
Just think that other people have it worse than you
Don’t look at a face and think you know their story
Look at their face and understand not everyone has it worse as you do
Look at that face and appreciate it
that aimed*
DeleteI love this. You delve so deeply into the prospective history of the individual. Your writing here is very expressive. This is one of my favorite pieces that you have done.
Delete
ReplyDeleteThis face is unique in a strange sense. It has a very mysterious look to it. Almost as if this person was angry with someone, or they were trying really hard to think about or remember something. The way that this person looks gives off a vibe from the past, but the idea that I have about them makes me think that it is from the present. I feel as though this person led a very stressful life, or a very carefree life, or just a very busy life. I make this assumption because of the way that this man’s hair is. It is very messy and shaggy looking. Also, his eyebrows are not well kept. They are very scraggly and long and not presentable at all. He looks as though he just rolled out of bed and did not bother to shower or even attempt to brush his hair. Maybe he was in a rush to get to work, or maybe he just did not care what people thought about him. Or maybe he was up late finishing up work for his job and fell asleep and did not have time to shower or anything because of how tired and late he was. There are many assumptions you could make about this man about something as simple as his hair. There are a few other things that I can infer about this man. Judging by the saggy skin and wrinkles on his face, I assume that his life was full of hardships and struggles. Or, he lived an extremely stressful life because when you stress yourself out, you tend to have more wrinkles. Also, judging by the stern look on his face, I assume that he is a very serious man and was all about business. He did not joke around very much. He probably had his work cut out for him since day one, and was a very straight forward man. I also think that according to the structure of his jaw, that he was very sophisticated. He has a very square and sharp jaw line, and with that usually comes with a sophisticated attitude. Maybe that is an irrational assumption and maybe I am jumping to conclusions. The point that I was after while writing this was to show that you should never judge someone based on their appearance. You never know what someone goes through behind closed doors. You know someone’s name, but not their story. You know where they are from, but not what they have been through. The moral of my assignment is just to never judge a book by its cover.
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A lot of this is really literal, but I like the way you end it. And I think it's hilarious that you didn't know that it was a rendering of Clint Eastwood.
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ReplyDeleteDebbie grew up in New Mexico on a small horse ranch. She lived with her mother and step-father, her real father died when she was only two. Debbie also has a twin sister named Wanda. Debbie and Wanda may have looked identical but their personalities were completely different. Debbie was always the class clown and would make a joke about everything. Wanda was always a hardworking person and would take everything so serious especially in school. After high school Wanda went off to medical school and Debbie went to college for theater. While in college Debbie realized that she wanted to become a stand up comedian. She loved being funny and this way she could be funny for a living.
Debbie became a very famous comedian and she loved her job. She decided to move to California to pursue a career in acting. Acting was another job she wished to have because you can be anyone you want. She wanted to be on her very own sitcom. She thought that would be really fun. She was pretty famous because of her stand up so it was easy to get on to TV. She started on a small TV show that only aired on a few channels. She liked it but her dream was to be on a big network show about her. She decided to write a screen play about the show she wanted. When she finished, she thought it was really good. The show was all about her life, and she wanted her sister to be on the show with her.
When she told her sister, Wanda about the show she said it was a stupid idea and she wanted no part in it. Wanda was now a really successful cardiologist and had no time for the show. Debbie had to rethink the show if Wanda didn’t want to be on it. She came up with the idea that the show was just going to be about her, and she would do her stand up and other funny skits on the show. Debbie’s agent told her it was a really good idea. Debbie then presented the idea to the ABC show board and they loved it. They told her they would do a season of her show and if the viewers liked it, then they would pick it up for another season. This made Debbie so happy; she had to do a photo shoot for the show. She wanted it to be funny so she put tape all over her face.
This is good. Just be careful to place commas where they need to be.
DeleteThis is very good. Just be careful to place commas where they need to be.
DeleteRyan P. Tunison
ReplyDeleteAlternate Assignment
Poem XXII
A fair visage for my hand to caress,
Beauty that provides strength to love; no less
Does romance render reaction to stall,
Always to leave those hopeless; now to fall,
Ever wishing to give my all I fail,
To remain lonely and lost on that trail.
Now with my heart in hand do I recall,
A muscle ever to beat love for all
That care to carry Her high and afar,
Beyond the pestilence that provides scars.
Far-reaching do I attempt to take hand,
A gentle hand of Her’s in my grasp, and
To forevermore entwine deep romance
Only felt by me, Her heart a hindrance;
For me little does She truly have care.
Myself fallen sick with love, once a rare
Thing did I think it to be when to glance
Such a beauty that would ensure romance;
For Her visage can smite all pride to rate,
All my love to lead Her to hurt and hate.
When forcing to leave Her to make that choice
Of me or him; not something to rejoice.
When She proves to be my sole desire,
A fact freely giving flame to fire;
Such which engulfs my soul to ever burn
With Her the highest of all I shall yearn.
But mine a heart She does not wish to hold,
For much younger I am, but seem too old,
Promising dedication to Her heart,
Fulfilling all to master my great part.
her visage can smite all pride is great. Again, tremendous work.
DeleteThe look in his eyes was sad. His eyes have seen more things that most people could not bear to see. War, pain, death, disrespect, and tears, have been see through his eyes. He will say his eyes show happiness because his life has been great, but his eyes show the sadness he truly feels. He went to war he has seen his friends die right next to him; he has killed the enemies that are against us. His life is full of pain he's dealt with family death that he cannot stand to remember because he wishes he had gone before. He knows his time is soon, but he does not know when or how, but he knows his times going to expire one day and it might be soon. The generations he has seen grown before his eyes have turned into what he did not want. He's disrespect by many younger generations today. They disrespect him because he's older and they do not have respect for veterans who fought for their freedom. He feels the disrespect of the people. He's older and his face shows his age. It shows the hard times he has encountered to earn his life he has today. He tries to smile, but his eyes show why he cannot. His life has been long filled with love form his wife, kids, and grandchildren. But the negative in his life over powers the happiness. The hard life he has had has shaped the way he looks today and has created the sadness in his eyes. The life he has today he says he’s happy and he is, but not with everything because his eyes have sadness of pain and tears.
ReplyDeletehttps://www.google.com/search?hl=en&site=imghp&tbm=isch&source=hp&biw=1280&bih=929&q=portrait&oq=portrait&gs_l=img.12..0l10.1146.12505.0.13265.14.8.6.0.0.0.96.600.8.8.0....0...1ac.1.31.img..1.13.560.6U5ucMEty34#hl=en&q=portrait+photography+&tbm=isch&facrc=_&imgdii=_&imgrc=g46h_LFnMsKg1M%3A%3B1FROxVSPX2KQfM%3Bhttp%253A%252F%252Fwww.graphicmania.net%252Fwp-content%252Fuploads%252F05032013%252Fportrait-photography02.jpg%3Bhttp%253A%252F%252Fwww.graphicmania.net%252Famazing-examples-of-portrait-photography%252F%3B580%3B386
The face I am referring to is the older man. His face is the face of a loving, hardworking, old man. What has made his face what it is today is all his hard work and time. However what makes him look like a loving man is the fact that he has a wife and a child and they all look so happy. But beginning with hard working this man has never rested a day in his life he completes all of his assignments on time or earlier. This is why he also looks like a wealthy man. He works a good job. Although all that hard work and time does take a toll on your face and physical body he is only 50 and he looks 70 if he would have been a good worker and not an overachiever he would have fewer years on his face and look younger. But it is just what people want to do. He probably liked to be that kind of worker one that actually enjoys the work. Also everything has a reason just like he did he wanted to work hard to earn money for his family. He wanted to live a good life with no worries of low on money. However he has no scars on his face or anywhere because he is a safe man who knew how to be a good man. Like he was never friends with the wrong people because he knew how to distinguish the right from the wrong while he was growing up. Another thing is that all this was not done by his own choices he had good parents that looked out for him and took care of him. The next more important person that influenced him was his use to be girlfriend who now is his wife. She always told him the right things to do and if he really loved her he would not do the wrong thing but the right thing. This was the story of the man in the picture he was a hardworking man who always cared about not only himself but the people around him too.
ReplyDeletehttp://forever-active.com/wp-content/uploads/2012/01/Physiology-of-Aging-iStock_000015142796Medium13.jpg
Her hair falls upon her shoulders in loose curls. Her skin a dark caramel color that looks smooth. She’s a child but her eyes say otherwise. They are filled with sorrow and grief. Grief over her fragmented life. Nothing has come easy for her; life has pushed her down over and over again. Why her? Why does she have to suffer while others are given things on a silver platter? Frustration, sadness, and confusion spiral inside her mind. Her innocence is barely hanging on by a thread, but she has no one to turn to. People like to say they know her story but they only know part of it. How could they? They weren’t there when she had nothing to eat. They weren’t there when she thought she was going to die. Her eyes bore into you, like she can see right through your soul. Her shoulders sag carrying the weight of the world on them. She wants, no needs someone to take the weight off. To tell her that everything is going to be okay, that she will never have to worry again. An ember of hope burns inside of her, instead of a roaring flame. How could a child look so sad, so heartbroken? Children are meant to be careless, free, lighthearted, and hopeful. She dreams of a place better than this. A place where her laughter can fill the air. Fresh tears stain her cheeks. She can’t hold it in any longer. All the pain, sorrow, and suffering is breaking her soul into pieces. The circles underneath her eyes are dark and sunken from sleepless nights. She would lie upon the stars wondering if she would make it through the next day. Although all this heartbreak surrounds her, there is still a spark of hope and happiness inside of her. She must trudge on to fight the hardships and to create her own fruitful ending.
ReplyDeletehttp://121clicks.com/wp-content/uploads/2012/04/portrait_eyes_22.jpg
Delete
ReplyDeleteAs a child, she could never raise her eyebrows. All of her friends and family could, so she picked up the habit of using her fingers. When she got married, this habit was one of her husband’s favorite things about her. When she became a mother it became an ice breaking for her children. Whenever they were angry or upset, she would take her fingers and lift her eyebrows. They wouldn’t be able to maintain a steady face. Other mothers, who could lift their eyebrows effortlessly, this would be the look they gave their children when they were in trouble. For Linda, it became something very special about her and to her. During emotional emergencies for her daughter, they would loft their eyebrows together. It was something that was special to everyone around her. It made her the life of the party and the girl with the best sense of humor. If Linda wasn’t smiling then she was sleeping. One day, Linda was at the airport waiting for her husband to get off of the plane. Airports where so strict now, so she had taken to fooling around with her youngest child. They were seeing who could force their eyebrows higher. Linda couldn’t remember much of what happened next, but what she could remember was enough. There was a loud bang that seemed to echo for a few minutes. Directly after the bang, there was a loud whistling in her ears. She thought she would go deaf, but that thought did not bother her. The thought of her little Tommy going deaf almost stopped her heart. She remembered jumping over her screaming boy. She wrapped her body around his, covering him as much as she could. His crying and screaming was almost competing with the loud echo of the bang. There was a strong heat coming from her right and a rumbling sound some above her. There was a painful, inescapable weight and then just black. When she woke up in the hospital, the first thing they said was that her sacrifice had saved Tommy. There wasn’t one scratch on him and Linda burst into tears of joy at the thought. But when she went to wipe her face, there was something missing. A weight were her hand should be, was not there. She wanted to scream, but was unable to conjure her voice. She went into a slight depression for a while after losing her hand. People did not seem to know what to do with a frowning Linda. It was Tommy that brought her back, he made her smile. One night he climbed into his lap and pushed his eyebrows up. Her smile came a little, but when he used his own fingers for her eyebrows, she smiled like never before.
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https://www.google.com/url?sa=i&rct=j&q=&esrc=s&source=images&cd=&cad=rja&docid=okQA3LUJgC6WvM&tbnid=LRLWl_D2QLRKxM:&ved=0CAQQjB0&url=http%3A%2F%2Fangeli7.deviantart.com%2Fart%2FCrying-face-377674907&ei=YLGGUqOIGoqxsQT2tICgBQ&bvm=bv.56643336,d.dmg&psig=AFQjCNEKLBJ7513G-_Ek1NR6obWB_Chqtg&ust=1384645281287712
ReplyDeletePeople always ask what can be hidden behind a smile?
Someone’s story of trial and error
A person’s life long journey
The smile could show their dreams, the things they’ve always wished to pursue
That small smile can tell of that tiny part on the inside that keeps saying push on
But what about a frown?
What about a teardrop? What can that tell?
A simple teardrop can tell of how someone really feels
That tear can express everything that has been pent up inside
That tear can say more that words can express
It can show every emotional scar that has been covered up
Every thought of giving up will be seen
And that face, the face that is made when the tear falls shows how that person has been feeling for a while
Maybe on the outside it’s been smiles and laughter
Cracking jokes and making it seem like every care has been thrown to the wind
They may just be the master of disguise, of deception, but when that tear falls it’s all clear
The darkness is seen
All the pain and hurt they have been feeling is no longer hidden
Every word that has cut deep
Every sneer that was thrown their way
Every mean joke that was given to them, but was only covered with a just kidding
Now it’s all seen as clear as the waterfalls disturbing that beautiful face
That innocent soul has been suffering in silence and not a single person has noticed
Not one person noticed that her smile was a mask and underneath the walls were breaking
Instead they helped add the cracks and made the water level rise
Instead of helping the wounds heal, everyone threw salt in them prolonging the pain
But they weren’t aware so who could really blame them
She never let anyone know, she never opened her self up
So you can’t really blame others right?
Wrong, if they cared they should’ve tried to break through the act
They should’ve helped this poor tortured soul
Because now at this time this girl is gone
She has completely disappeared and sadly no one stopped he
No one tried to bring back her smile
Because they never saw or even tried to see that the one on the front wasn't real
My ear buds were lodged in my ears and Van Halen’s Dance the Night Away filled my head. I was creating my own path through the freezing Portland wind, jogging through the narrow streets. After about a mile or so, I remember feeling instant wooziness. Blackness soon followed. When the lights finally came back on, my vision was blurred and it took a few seconds to take in my surroundings. Underneath me I could feel the stiffness of an unused leather couch. About six feet away, a man and woman were staring down at me. They were wearing typical street clothes and they each appeared to be in their late twenties to early thirties.
ReplyDeleteWhile my body remained weak, the speed of my thoughts was nearing a normal speed. I grew uneasy. This place was not familiar in any respect. And I had a pretty good feeling that I was brought here against my will.
“Who are you?” I searched their faces for any sense of anger or crazy eyes, because the weirdoes tend to have them; but they remained like stones—purely stoic.
“Where am I?” I took that moment to really observe my surroundings. Before me, a fifty-inch flat screen television was mounted on a light blue wall. To the left of that wall was a dark wooden door with stylistic carvings and a brass doorknob. It was worn and had the appeal of an historical home. In back of me was a spacious, modern kitchen with red walls and gold handles on the cabinets as well as the drawers. The table in the dining room sat six people and sat atop a striped burgundy rug. To my right was a hallway with six doors all like the main door. An oak floor was laid throughout the place and gave off a colder feel.
“If you’re not going to answer, then I should really be going. I’ve got a test to study for. And you’re both creepy—no offense.” I sat up but was unable to stand. My damn legs weren’t working!
“What did you do to me?” I asked fearfully. So I was not only kidnapped, but also drugged now? My heartbeat was faster than a cheetah in hot pursuit.
Interesting developments. I love the narrative voice. I could easily see this character propelling a series of novels,
DeleteNo.
ReplyDeleteThis hadn’t happened. No.
I closed my eyes. No!
“Go away!” I yelled inside my head.
Please. Erase the images.
No. This wasn’t real.
I tried to call out, mommy always said;
“When you need me, just think of me.”
I tried picturing her in my head.
It was gone, she was gone.
Her image had erased.
No. It wasn’t true because!
Because mommy would say,
“I’ll always be here.”
All around me there was dirt.
Nothing of color existed.
It made sense, because daddy would say;
“Your mom is all the colors that shine.”
It made sense. She was gone. They were gone.
Mommy and daddy were gone.
No. This was a nightmare.
Please, someone tell me that mommy and daddy are here.
No. They wouldn’t lie. Wake me up.
As I tried to breath I felt the dense air.
Everything was a different shade of gray.
What kind of place is this?
And I looked and I saw,
My bed all shattered-
But I could recognize the small ear that belonged to my teddy bear.
A small cloth piece from my mom’s favorite dress.
But that was it. Everything was destroyed.
Helplessly, I gave in. It was true.
Yes. The end had begun. I was left all alone.
All by myself, I could no longer hide the truth.
My homes new name was now war.
This is very powerul. I especially like the last line. I haven't seen much in poetic format from you so far. This is really good. I think it completely captures the sentiment in the expression from the photo.
DeleteHe saw Gavin shudder out of the corner of his eye and rush ahead of him.
ReplyDelete“Come with me, they’ll let us in!”
“Slow down!” Damian shouted at him pleadingly. “I just had to run past all of those guys in that tomb, I’m all out of breath, can’t we just take a relaxing walk and get to know each other?”
Gavin turned and looked at Damian, not sure if he was being genuine or just being difficult. Damian caught up to him and gestured to continue down the hill into the city when Gavin whipped out a pair of handcuffs and slapped them onto Damian and himself. Damian gave Gavin a look that could burn through steel.
“Uh, what the hell are you doing?”
Gavin didn’t even face him when he answered. “If a mage shows up at the compound unrestrained, they and everyone they’re with either get shot on sight, put in front of a firing squad, or taken as prisoners of war. I’m doing you a favor.”
“You know, the whole point of us getting to know each other and become pals wasn’t so that you could get glory from turning me in, right?” Damian massaged his temple, trying to release some of the pure annoyance he was feeling over this situation.
“I’m not turning you in, Damian.”
“Didn’t you just say they’d kill us?”
Gavin held up their linked arms. “These aren’t police cuffs, these are standard issue Magi-cuffs for Syndicate Hunters. They neutralize your powers as long as you’re linked to a Hunter.”
Damian used all of his strength to hold in his laughter. “Did you just say Magi-cuffs? That sounds like something you’d buy off of an infomercial!”
“Hey, it’s not our fault that the enchanters that defected to us aren’t creative enough to think of a good name for them!”
“You couldn’t have outsourced that job to someone else? Someone, idunno, more qualified?”
Gavin stopped Damian as they reached the end of the road and got to a hill just high enough to not see over. Damian recognized where they were from the hill, ones just like them surrounded the Syndicate capital city. It wasn’t their capital that they’d built, but when the war broke out it was the first city they’d taken. It was surprising in countless ways; it was the most technologically and magically advanced city in the country, it had one of the largest mage populations, it was gigantic, all of these things would make it seem as though it would be more of a final goal, not a starting point.
(Continuation of "Dystopia" prompt)
ReplyDeletePrincpes was awoken from her trance and was now very serious. She looked Aether dead in the face with ice behind her eyes. “Do you really want to question my authority?” she accused forcefully. “You report to me and that’s final. Have I made myself clear?” She continued, coupled with extreme and stiff finger pointing for emphasis.
There was a pause. “Yes ma’am.” Aether replied meekly, understanding his role in this operation, at least for now.
“Great. Now go to your quarters and call it a night. You did some good work today and deserve to take the rest of the day off.” Princeps ordered, the ice behind her eyes replaced with her usual quiet authority as she turned away from him.
A whole slew of emotions ran through Aether’s head as he disgruntledly away from Princeps’ tent; regret: How could I have been so stupid? I shouldn’t have lashed out like that at her. She knows what she’s doing and I should have trusted that. She is the leader of the dig, after all; dissatisfaction: All my hard work for nothing? Now who’ll know what I’ve accomplished? Will the Syndicate ever accept me into their ranks?; resentment: Well this is horrible. It’s my fault that the world will never know about such a vital artifact. If only I hadn’t overstepped my bounds; bitterness: Wait, why would it be my fault? It’s all on her if she’s too stubborn to recognize the importance of what I’ve found; and finally, vindication: I’ll show her. I’ll show everyone. She had no right to treat me that way and I’m going to make her pay for it. Just wait and see.
He arrived at his tent while the sun was still high in the sky, and showed little sign of going down anytime soon. He tried to settle his restless emotions because he thought he should, but it was of little use. In no time at all he was nervously pacing back and forth, thoughts racing around his head and spilling out of his mouth in the form of disgruntled whispers, with exasperated hand movements to match. After a few minutes which felt like an eternity, the door to his tent was unzipped. He looked over startled, and the fabric fell open to reveal his partner in the dig, Athena.
Athena was a girl about the same age as Aether and almost equal in academic ability. The two of them were always competing for the highest grades and highest honors, but their strengths were clearly defined; in whichever area one fell behind in, the other excelled.
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ReplyDeleteI am me
I can’t be categorized in any other way
I’m not like anyone else
It’s almost like I came out wrong
I hate what I should love
And love what I should hate
I’m a pretty face trapped inside a dark mind
But no one ever sees that part
They don’t want to see it
And why would they?
People walk by me everyday
Girls see a slut
Guys see an object that they want to have
But no one ever really sees me
I get by just fine though
Pretending to be what everyone wants me to be
I rely on no one but my feet and my pretty smile
They both get me where I need to go
And they get me there for cheap
I get anything I need in this world
And I get it all on my own
And they get me by
But they don’t make me happy
Drugs make me happy
Well, not happy exactly
An artificial happiness
But as close to the real thing as I’ll ever get
People like me aren’t meant for happiness
The kind of people that see the world all too clear
See it for what it really is
Other people don’t see it that way
They see what they want to see and nothing more
They see love
And family
And God
But what they don’t see is the truth
That none of those things actually exist
I envy those people
The oblivious ones
It is better to live in the darkness of ignorance
Than to be burned under brightness of the truth