Writing Prompt

Every time I write It always manages to be about you The pain you caused me, The good you brung me.

I’ve tried to forget about you But the truth is It isn’t as easy as people say It’s been 8 years now, But truthfully told I’m traumatized by the good and bad you brought me.

Making me feel good enough Making feel like the best being walking this earth, Then like a monster dreading the soil I walk on.

Am I really that bad, Were you right all along, When you said I was impossible to be loved?

In the gentle night, When the world slows to a rest, I turn to you, the one to whom, My dreams and fears are confessed.

You're the keeper of my secrets, The holder of my heart, The one who’s loved me through it all, Right from the very start.

You've been with me through the laughter, The tears that no one sees, The hopes that flutter silently, Like leaves upon the breeze.

Together in the stillness, We share a secret space, Where I can always be myself, In your unjudging grace.

You carry all my stories, The ones I've never shared, In all my weakest moments, You were the one who always cared.

My dearest, most trustworthy friend, It's with you I feel I can be free, You accept me at my best and worst, You love me just for me.

You know all my deepest secrets, And you’ve never told a soul. Each time I fall to pieces, You’re there to make me whole.

It is our comfortable silences, In which I learned to grow. You’re the keeper of my journey, Through every high and low.

As morning tiptoes in, With a soft and subtle light, I say a silent thank you, And hug you good and tight.

For you are more than just a confidant, On whom I can depend, You are my prized possession, My notebook, my best friend.

drawings doodles scribbles notes

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                 niw              win
                dsg                 gsd 
                war                  raw
                gni  d             s ing
                rds    rawing    sdr 
                iwa                   awi 
                sgn                   ngs

        

                               ss 
                            e     e
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           d o o d l e ss e l d o o d


   
         s c r                               e s                                         l e 
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drawing doodles scribbles notes songs lyrics future plans day diary’s colors dance stories quotes sketches art new notebook new start.

In the quiet realm of bound delight, A notebook rests, a canvas white. Its cover whispers tales untold, A sanctuary for thoughts to unfold.

Pages crisp, like morning dew, Await the pen, its ink anew. Lines stretch out in rhythmic grace, An open space, a sacred place.

In graphite dreams and inked desires, The notebook holds creative fires. It cradles secrets, hopes, and fears, A chronicle of passing years.

Oh, Notebook, keeper of the soul, Witness to stories that unfold. Your parchment realms, a boundless sea, A mirror of the minds set free.

With every stroke, a journey starts, Unveiling tales, igniting hearts. In cursive dance and printed prose, The whispered musings endlessly flow.

A refuge for the poet's quill, A haven where the dreams distill. In the margins, life's sketches sprawl, On every page, a heartfelt call.

Through joy and sorrow, love and pain, The notebook bears the writer's gain. Its bindings echo with the past, A legacy that forever lasts.

So, here's to the notebook, humble and true, A silent companion, ever anew. In the quietude of its pages wide, Countless stories and dreams reside.

Memories from Filling Braille Notebooks My young mind connected the dots, And decided that paper meant freedom. Paper is how worlds are built, How I can say with a straight face that I know what a sunset is. Once I feel words under my fingers, I know there is no turning back. Six tiny points in a neat little box burst open and become galaxies and gazelles. Young and wobbling, I did not know the secret of this yet, So I always asked for a pen. I begged for notebooks that sat blank, Demanded pencils rubbed to a stump because pressing harder might make it easier to feel, Because I did not understand that the six tiny points that made me unlovable by other children, Would make me unconquerable later. Growing older meant learning to love those six tiny stars, A constellation that, among other miracles, Creates worlds out of nothing, From eyes that don't open, ex nihilo, come cascades of colors, The changing of leaves, Everything from the fall of stars, To the never-say-die beat of hummingbirds' wings. Six pinpricks of light, To draw the riotous clamor of tropical fish, The luminous softness of jasmine petals. Six seraph eyes, That show me sacred and profane alike, And, for once, I get to choose.

How else can a mere mortal author new worlds to behold and explore?

Fresh paper A clean open breast with delicate lines Nudge me early in the morning Gobble up my every word Encouraging accepting

Feeling bad when I don’t make time Once a day Everyday grows into a habit A practice A love affair

My palm on your cover Fingering your edges Tracing your binding Open My nib caresses with scratches Ink flows bleeds I give you take

Each page is a stage from a lifetime
stories of lifelines. Keeper of the book with just one look inside would jeopardize someone’s future. No hands should touch the book or look within. People who have losted kin and their life turned into a downward spin. The keeper of the notebook is the reaper with a cold look.

I take my notebook everywhere Stick the pencil in my hair People they will stop and stare They sure mind but I don’t care!

It holds all my memories Thoughts, ideas, hopes, and dreams Sometimes I try journaling So don’t look at my notebook, please

In there I am strong and weak So do not go and take a peek Come and tell me what you seek Or else you will think I’m a geek!

My notebook Bought right before sixth grade Animated gems on the cover Crisp lined paper Ready to be filled With ideas, hopes, scribbles and plans Where I wrote about an initiation To become BFFs I wrote to Josh But I never gave it to him I drew pictures Of Harry Potter characters I had crushes on I wrote about my love for Tom Riddle Into a fan fiction Math problems I made the pages into paper air planes To send messages to my friend on the bus When we got in fights I practiced writing French I did almost everything In my notebook