Writing Prompt
Writings
Writings
POEM STARTER
Write a poem with the title “First Bloom”.
Growth, timing, and celebration could all feature in this poem – or you can focus on something entirely different.
Writings
For the first time In my entire life, I was the first to Rise up and Bloom.
I stood strong Through the constant Pressure That weighed me down, Like never before, I was weak no more.
Stronger than ever, This was my first bloom, Now I can rise up Against the darkness And anything else too.
This was the time For my first bloom. I had finally found room For growth in this Once weak heart That I call my own.
Now the seeds of strength are planted, It’s time for me to sprout, To become the flower I know I can be, To bloom without a doubt.
(Okay so Maisie and Davian’s first kiss goes after this one. Sorry for the confusion I’ve just been getting better ideas so it doesn’t feel so rushed. Thanks again for all the reads. Even if you don’t like them it still means everything to me when I see that it’s been read!)
Our love for each other only grew from that moment. It flourished and created something just as perfect as the movies. It was in the hospital that day that I found something to live for. Except I still hadn’t broken the news to her. To Maisie. She doesn’t know, and there’s something inside me. Something telling me she doesn’t need to know.
Something I’ll listen to. That voice, the voice that always makes my choices, right and wrong. That voice that, in Maisie, had told her to end it all. It’s a crazy thing, that voice can sound like a million different people but no matter who the people are they all say the same thing. And in Maisie’s case they all told her it was over.
But in my case . . . Well in my case I’m not exactly sure what they’re telling me. Or maybe I just don’t want to beileve.
I let out a long breath as I stare at the filled page in my notebook. These words that come out of me . . . These feelings they’re strong. So strong that the only way I deal with them is writing them down.
First it was in the form of poems, but now . . . Now’s it’s something different. Either way they’re both gifts that Maisie gave me.
I peer over my notebook at her. She’s been asleep all night, with Trish glued to her side. It used to be me, for the first few hours. But then Trish came in, and I thought it’d be best to let her spend time with Maisie. Even though she’s been asleep and hasn’t changed.
I’ve gone home once, Tommy drove me in his new truck that he bought from his buddy. So I guess new is kind of a stretch, it’s old. Rusty brown, with holes in the bench seat that Tommy says is the only reason these trucks still sell. The comfort of having a whole bench for nights spent on the side of the road.
I peaked into the bathroom at home, but a shower didn’t sound good. So I grabbed my notebook off my desk along with a hoodie that I’ve been wearing with my leather jacket.
And I’ve been writing the past few hours . . . Or maybe days. I’m still not really sure. It’s dark in here with the curtains drawn, so I can’t tell what time of day it is.
There’s something peaceful about watching Maisie as she sleeps. I mean of course I can’t let my eyes close because there’s still a chance she won’t make it. But this rest, this sleep she needs it. And I can tell.
I wonder what she’s dreaming about. I smile at the thought of us flashing through her mind. It’s all I can think about, maybe she’s dreaming about me and her. Us.
I bring my eyes back down to my notebook. I’ve filled half of it all about Maisie. Our story.
I never knew I had so many words in me, so many descriptions of Maisie’s beautiful face, of her troubled past. And of mine.
. . .
One year ago . . .
“Davian!” Tommy pulls my arm forcing me to face him and the setting sun behind him.
“What?” I shout, yanking my arm away. “What do you want Tommy?”
Tommy’s lips flatten into a thin line as he looks me over. His blonde hair blowing in his eyes as they begin to lace with tears.
“I want my little brother back,” Tommy chokes out as a loud crack of thunder echos around us. The wind picks up but we don’t move. Goose bumps rise on my arms as I stare at Tommy.
“He’s gone,” I mutter. And it’s true. I don’t know how or why but sweet, kind, perfect little Davian is gone. Dad’s tried talking to me, even Mom couldn’t get me to open up.
I guess it’s Tommy’s turn to play therapist. Maybe it’ll be a good laugh. Something to think about besides . . . Everything.
“I don’t beileve that,” Tommy reach’s out for my shoulder but I pull away, folding my arms across my chest.
Tears gather in my eyes begging to explode. I haven’t cried in months, I’ve been holding it all in. My feelings, my thoughts. Everything.
You’re nothing Chase. Jace’s loud, controlling voice echos through my mind. You’re nothing . . . And I don’t see you . . . You can’t see nothing. So I don’t see you . . . Not anymore.
Even my bully didn’t want me anymore. I was trash to him and I was okay with that. But invisable to him . . . That’s the thing I can’t handle.
“What’s happened?” Tommy raises his voice above the loud rustling of the trees and wind. “What made you change?”
After Jace claimed I was nothing, I decided to actually be nothing. I skipped classes, hung out in the darkest parts of town. Normally that meant a tree with dark shade and a book.
I never read the book, I just covered my eyes with it, shielding my tears from eyes that might glance my way. I shouldn’t have worried, not even my family noticed my change. No one did.
“Just tell me Davian!” Tommy yells, his tears now streaming down his face as the wind whips at his hair.
I want to. And it’s killing me.
“I’m nothing!” I blurt out before I can second guess myself. “And not just nothing . . . I mean like nothing nothing.”
Tommy’s eyes soften as I scream at him. I start sobbing like a baby. My chin falls down to my chest as I hug myself. I thought it would feel better, but it doesn’t. I just feel tired . . . Even more than usual.
“Davian,” Tommy whispers as his warm arms bring my head to his chest. He puts pressure on my head, the kind of pressure that makes me cry even more.
. . .
I hadn’t even realized it but Tommy was the one to pull me together that night. He held me. But it was just for that one night.
My eyes fly to Maisie, her chest still rising and falling just like the waves in the deep blue ocean.
Maisie’s pulled me together, but not just for one moment. She’s pulled me together for every moment. And just like that my heart opens, like a flower in the sun. My heart aches for the light that Maisie holds within her. The light I know I’ll see again.
A young girl stands on the threshold of a dream. With eyes wide open, full of wonder and light, She's a bud in the morning, fresh and bright.
Just as the dawn ushers the day anew, Petals unfurl, kissed by the dew. So too does she, with each passing hour, Embrace the change, her inner power.
From the innocence of pink to the wisdom of rose, Her journey's path, only nature knows. With each experience, she grows and she learns, Like a flower to the sun, she naturally turns.
The first bloom is a dance, a delicate sway, A celebration of life, in a vibrant display. She's beauty and strength, in a soft, subtle form, Weathering storms, yet gentle and warm.
In the fullness of time, she'll come into her own, From the seeds of her youth, how gracefully she's grown. An ode to growing up, to the love that's been sown, She stands in full bloom, a queen on her throne.
Born on the first day of spring, with fate’s string pulled from the womb. I was early, couldn’t wait. You were late, your mother’s doom.
When we met, you were lonely, your father’s only real joy, but I thought you so severe, so your cheer was my sole ploy.
I was just one of many, brothers took anything fun I had, but they couldn’t steal you. I still feel like I won.
Your father cried each solstice. You couldn’t miss a stranger. I hated every big bash, we would dash into danger (or so it seemed at the time), run to climb those rocks hidden behind the house where I slept, and we kept far from our kin.
I picked you brand new daisies. In those days we were witches. And you brought me buttercups to make up hexes for riches.
Every winter we waited, our breath baited, for flowers to grow so we could cast spells. Used our yells to call power.
I know that our spells were fake. I asked them to make you stay. One day your father took you and you were too far away for me to walk, to drive, to fly. You and I, we would send texts, and yet I needed you near. Without you here, what was next?
Childhood was dull without you. I rushed too quickly to grow. With whom could I celebrate spring, the season misplaced its glow.
Ten years later when the last winter’s night passed, far away from where we met I saw you where you drew the new spring day.
I think that I had been lost. I saw you across the room, you’re more beautiful, I’m sure than you were after first bloom.
ideas motifs melodies visions cadences
floating and flittering in my brain, lacking shape and definition - like little auditory amoebas
…but they’re so alive.
they wait to be extracted and dropped into lines and spaces, where they can evolve from single-cell melodic organisms into musical revelations, sprouting legs and souls
like the first bloom of spring.
She had waited a while,the seed in the ground Wondering , when and if and how
Would her turn come to bloom at first light Would it be now or would it be night. How was she destined to bloom on this land Would it be quiet or incredibly grand?
In depths oh so dark, Her feet became restless Twisting and turning, it seemed so suggestive. Others around searched for the light While she still hid deep, deep in the night
She called the Great Mother Begged for her turn Why not now, what must I learn?
Be patient my child, It is wisdom you seek. Time is not real, Confusing the weak.
Your life is eternal captured within. This first bloom is nothing It’s only where you begin.
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