| My Poems! (I just have a few right now and I don't know if you will like them or what high quality they are, ut I wanted to get some posted because people are asking for them. I will have more soon, I promise.) |
| Here you can find some poems and (maybe) some short stories written by me. Before we get to the poems, I want to let you know that these are orginal 100% written by me, and all of my poems (even the ones that really suck) are very special to me, and I do not want you to steal them, claim that you wrote them, post them on your website (for any reasons) use them for a school project, enter them in contests, sumbit them to any other sites, or modify them and claim them as your own. Basically, just leave my poems alone. You can read them, maybe sugest this site to a friend, and print anyones that you like, but that's it. They are MINE so don't steal or copy. It's called plagrism, and it's a very imoral and illegal thing to do. Yuo can get into a lot of trouble for plagrizing, so don't ever let yourself do it because you can get into a very bad habit, and you will eventually get caught somehow, someway. Trust me, I am in a club that publishes a Creative ARts Magazine and it happens, and people get caught all the time. I have proof that I wrote all of these poems because they have been previously published in a Litareary Arts Magazine and some have been sumbitted to Poetry.com and have copyrights and have been publsihed in their books. So, don't steal, okay? If you have any questions or comments about my poems, you can email me here or you can sign the guestbook. Please do not send any attachments because your email will be deleted if it had attachments. Please put something about poems in the subject line. Thanks! |
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| Love is a Series of Bad Clichés (CAP Writing Contest Winner Febuary 2002) By Amanda J of Houdini's Hideaway Love is a series of bad clichés and when you think about it, it’s kind of a shame, because many of them, you will probably say. “E is for the very extraordinary.” Yeah, sure. You know what’s extraordinary? The pain that you will feel when he leaves you for your cuter friend next year! Maybe I’m just taking a pessimistic view, but so much of this is true. A girl yesterday asked if my boyfriend was someone that I really loved, and I wondered if she’s believe how I feel and understand that what he and I have is real, if I sighed and said “he’s got silky soft skin that’s smooth to the touch”. Don’t get me wrong, I believe true love is a precious thing. “A diamond is forever“- so buy a diamond ring All these over used clichés run thru my mind determined to ruin my love life. Hearing “Roses are red” makes me hurt in the head. Last time I checked, violets were, well, violet and not blue. That poem must have been written by a color blind fool cliché welding fool. I’d like to meet the person who wrote that junk. and tell them there verse is turning my head to mush. Why not write your own feelings and thoughts instead of relying on a hallmark card? Love is in the air on Valentines Day and cupid is flying. Ever wonder hpw many of those couples will break up by Friday? Love may be a many splendor thing but all these clichés are driving me crazy. Property of http://www.oocities.org/houdinishideaway Written Febuary 2002 |
| The Day After By Amanda J of Houdini's Hideaway “Will you be mine?” Asks the fuzzy pink heart, That sits on a lonely shelf Because it’s something that nobody wants. When the calendar says two, one, five, It must be an awful, terrible, horrible life When you’re a Valentine that gets thrown away The day after Valentine’s Day. Property of http://www.geocties.com/houdinishideaway Written Febuary 2002 |
| What Color? By Amanda J of Houdini's Hideaway If I had to choose what crayon to be, I’d have no idea what color was right for me. I could be safety orange, But that’s the color of hunting vests and extension cords. Besides, I’d be so bright That I would glow in the dark at night. How about pink? Well, what do you think? They’d put me in a Barbie commercial So I could teach young girls to be superficial. I can’t choose brown, black or white. That’s a sensitive issue, And it may not be politically correct. Let’s not start a race riot. I couldn’t be green. That’s the color of money which leads to greed. Money determines our social status in life, Which labels us as good or bad, and it could make you an outsider. I don’t want to be red Because that’s the color of blood And also represents love. The two are a lot alike. I don’t want to be yellow Because of all that yellow snow In the winter time. I don’t want to be blue because it’s too cliché. True Blue, Sky Blue, Blue Jeans, Blue has been chosen by too many things. Can’t be purple because it might threaten Someone’s sexuality. I don’t want to be clear because you could see my organs. And that would be disgusting. Instead of crayons, let’s use paint. Open up the cans, you can start on my face. Instead of choosing one, I choose them all. Mix them together ‘till they dissolve. Paint me into an opaque, colorless blob. I don’t want my choice to offend you, So if I choose a little bit of every color, Then every one gets to choose. Property of http://www.oocities.org/houdinishideaway Written March 2002 |
| Is It Only Me? By Amanda J of Houdini's Hideaway It’s the end of the world. Or something of the like. Sunday morning TV politics would be better with Jerry Springer fist fights. I’ll spare you the unnecessary details. Nobody likes complicated fairy tales. Fresh, fruity, fun like a Starburst candy that’s how life should be. Am I going crazy? Or did the world get too serious? Or is it only me? Is it only me that thinks life shouldn’t be politically corrects. When are the TV sensors coming to sensor all my defects. Is it only me, or is the world changing for the sake of change and not getting anything done? Is it only me? Am I the only one? Oh my god! Look at that girl on the TV It’s a girl who hasn’t been altered surgically! What surprise! No doctors shrunk her thighs! She’s got a flat chest and a round tummy. No Boxtex injected in her cheeks. Oh no. What am I to think? Seems like all the world is changing. But it’s forgotten me. Well, you go down to your local high school. Say hi to Miss Popular. She’s so perfect. She’s so cool. Pregnant with baby number two. Am I the only one or is the world screwed up? All this stupidity around me. I think I’ve had enough. I’ve thought about it long and hard. Here’s what you have to do: You have to be an artificial idiot if you want people to like you. Written October 2002 Property of Houdini's Hideaway |