Asleep
You are walking through the forest And you come across a dog.
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You are walking through the forest And you come across a dog.
"Well well well if it isn't Alice" Fletch grinned. She was smaller in real life, I found. She was very petite but she had a huge presence about her, like everyone in the room had to look at her.
There were wings so fine, Sprouted from behind. There were talons so sharp, With their own mind. A face like an angel, With blonde, flowing hair. I looked so striking, Noone could compare.
There was a little boy,. Who fell from the sky,. And all anyone would do,. Was keep asking "why?". The boy didn't have a plane,. This boy didn't have wings,. He was up in the sky,.
Soaring, golden corn glistens with diamond, drops of dew. Dazzling, saffron sun rays dance off a glittering, white sapphire pool.
'Thanks, your ever so kind. You didn't really compliment about my lipgloss though,' Kelly mumbled. I was shocked. Tina, my new social worker came into the room. 'Good morning girls.
(this is more of a rhyming story than a poem which was inspired by a dream I had many years ago). If he ever felt awkward. Distressed or upset. He'd rip an hole in the ground. And in it he'd get.
When I needed to escape, I just reached down and tore an hole in the ground, then jumped through into a new scene.
Ruben climbed his ladder high. Every rung, up to the sky. As sleepily, the world below. Began to quiet down and slow. As it was with every night,. Rubens job was to hide the light.
The Burning Golden flames lick ravenous at my face and singe my hair.
Once there was a purple fox, That half of whom lived in a box; The other half, I should confess, Would wear the finest formal dress.
Alana was sitting on her desk minding her own business when her younger sister came along to pester her.
The night came and I wiped off the rainbow from my shoulder. Shortly after it rained again. My tent was in the middle of the field. The rain was coming down like wild horses now.
Seasonal - Winter The girl awoke with frosty eyes. Her legs were frozen to the ground as it bit at her, but she had grown used to it by now.
There was a town, Called 'Windy Teeth', With land above, And wheels beneath; And every one, Within that town, Lived in a windmill, Of blue and brown.
Glistening silver hair cascades down her slim back. Delicate, bronze wings flutter and flash in the obsidian night. Ancient constellations gleam and glow high in the onyx heavens.
Brush placed in your hand,. Soft, silky paints all around,. Pick up your brush, my artist,. Paint a vine around my wrist,. Twist, curl, green and brown,. Through fingers, tumbling down,.
My name is Amanda whoplimg and this is my story about the weirdest week and a half of my life, I'm only fourteen years old but I don't think I will ever have another experience like this in fact I...
The forest calls out to me; a cacophony of birdsong, rustling leaves and the constant hum-whistle-howl of the wind snaking its way between tree and branch and undergrowth.
A shockwave rippled through the ashen clouds, sending scarlet sparks flying across the frosted Autumn sky.
She felt trapped but safe, which may seem like an odd combination until you realise that she was sitting in a bubble.
There once was a young girl whose voice held the power to lift words from the paper.
The little girl in a red-polka dot dress came every day after school to help tend Mr Wizard's Orchard. She picked apples for pies and pears for crumble. She even sang to the hearts in the Heart Tree.
A girl in a red polka-dot dress skips down the crooked lane of the village. She hums happily, clutching wild flowers from the meadow in her hand.