The Magic of Writing

Words form, gradually curving
Ideas swarm, imagination whirling
Straining brains or glowing eyes
Stories opened filled with surprise


Paragraph after paragraph or verse after verse
Trying to fight that writers block curse
Keep the ideas coming
Keep the ideas running


Fingers trembling, excitement heard
Keep on going, write one more word
Planning it out, plots are laid
Chapters are born and endings are made


Swirling curling inside your brain
Dreams and thoughts going insane
And when someone reads your work and their eyes open wide
You get a warm and fuzzy feeling inside


Discover and learn, make your creation
It can be fun but it'll take determination
Express yourself, reach beyond the stars
You can never take your writing too far


Stories, creation
Ideas, imagination
Wonder, amazement
Fear, anticipation


The magic of writing

I just wrote this poem because I love writing and I think it is really magical in some ways.
Tigerlily

Global Warming

Toxic fumes, in the air

Killing the earth like there's nothing to spare

Nuclear plants, green house gases

Melting icebergs by the masses

Carbon Dioxide, overflowing
Nobody stopped to wonder where it's going
Global Warming getting near
Trapped heat in the atmosphere

Fossil Fuels making it worse
Not a blessing but a curse
Nuclear power-plants polluting the earth
The damage it's caused is hard to reverse


Greenhouse gases, emitting radiation
Global Warming is human kind's creation
The Ozone Layer, a protective shield
The reason of it's depletion has already been revealed

Man's want, man's need
Will never make the earth succeed
Man's greed, man's must
Might just make the world combust

Global Warming in the air
We can stop it if we care'
Global Warming coming fast
Prevent it. Before the problem gets too vast

Thank you for reading this poem. I really believe that global warming is an important issue and should be discussed, if not atleast thought about.
Tigerlily

Need Inspiration

Sometimes you forgot
About things you need to do
You get so caught up in everything
You forget everything too

Then you realise the date
And suddenly you're in a flutter
Your memory must be on the break and
Your brain must be waxed with butter

You try to start your piece
But something isn't right
The inspirations not coming to you
You need a different light

So what do you do when the inspiration
Just don't wanna show?
And not only that, the time is ticking
and nobody seems to know

Well now I'm telling my big dilema
and I hope that there'll be help
Please, Please give some inspiration
Don't make me howl and yelp!

Okay, I forgot all about a writers night and I need to write something quick! I'm going to write a poem. What should I write it about?

Memory-lessly,
Tigerlily

Untitled Story

Chapter 1

    One day I woke up to find a penguin sitting on the end of my bed. It was an unusual thing to find on the end of anyone’s bed and some might pinch themselves to make sure it wasn’t a dream. For some reason I didn’t do this. I looked at the penguin, eyed it up and down to make sure it indeed was a penguin and then finally (when I was 100% sure) I stuck my hand out for it to shake. The penguin peered at me curiously. It stared at my hand for a few seconds, wondering what to do and then decided to peck it. I shot my hand back in fright and studied it (as one would do) to make sure there wasn’t any physical damage and gave the penguin a frown of annoyance. How rude! I thought. This penguin certainly does not have many manners at all.

Then I realized my mistake. How had I been so dumb? “Sorry” I said. “I forgot that penguins don’t have hands” The penguin made a curious sort of high-pitched gurgling noise and hopped off my bed. It waddled its way to my closet and started rumbling through my pile of laundry. I was about to scold it when I saw something small and round. I leapt out my bed and stepped onto the carpet. “Oh!” I said, trying to get as close to it as I dared. “You laid an egg!” The penguin seemed to smile at me and then it (yet again) made that high-pitched noise. “It’s a pretty egg, isn’t it?” The penguin nodded its head. “You must be proud of it,” The penguin nodded its head once again, except this time more dramatically, showing me how proud she was with the emphasis of her nod. Then, she started to nudge the egg closer to her feet. I watched in silence as she slowly pushed it into a pouch she had. I didn’t know penguins have pouches, I thought to myself.
“What are you doing?” I asked, not expecting an answer. She starred at me, probably wondering whether or not to tell me her secret. “Its alright,” I whispered. “I won’t hurt you, I promise.”
“Okay, I trust you,” she said. Wait. No she couldn’t have said that, penguins don’t talk. “Penguins do talk,” she said. “No they don’t!” I found myself telling her. She seemed to shrug her shoulders as if she was done trying to convince me. “Humans are all the same. I thought you were different.” She turned to my window and pushed her flipper on it, trying to get the latch open. “Wait!”

She turned around and stopped what she was doing. “I DO believe you. I’m so sorry about before, I just was a little bit confused, humans are like that you see,” She frowned as if she was having trouble believing me. “Okay. Hop on my back,” I frowned (there seemed to be a lot of frowning going on here). “What are you ta…” “Look, I thought you said you weren’t like other humans,” she interrupted. I was thinking of responding by saying I had not actually said that I wasn’t like other humans but only said that I believed her but decided not. I climbed on her back. It was actually more comfortable then it seemed and she was bigger than I thought. There seemed to be a fold of fat that acted as a seat for me and there was this bit of fur on her back that was much longer that I held onto like reigns. “You ready?” I couldn’t respond to this. After all, who ever heard of someone being ready to ride on a penguin? Even if it was a giant, talking one.

The window was now wide open, big enough to fit a giant penguin. I knew she was going to attempt to fly and so I got ready to fall. I wasn’t stupid. I knew penguins couldn’t fly. It just wasn’t what Mother Nature had given them. She probably had done all the other birds and when she got to the penguins, the ostriches and emus (plus all other non-flying birds) she just thought, well I have enough of those flying types, perhaps these ones will be different. I guess I was very deeply emerged in my thoughts for I didn’t seem to realize that my legs were hanging off the penguin and not firmly situated on the ground. This time I thought I’d give pinching a crack. “Ow!” I cried as I saw my whole arm go red. The penguin made a tutting noise, “Humans think they’re so smart but sometimes I wonder how their species survived all this time,”

I was just about to give a rude remark (much like the one she’d given me) when I saw where the penguin was heading. Oh my gosh, Oh my gosh, Oh my gosh. We’re going to DIE!!!!! Was the first thing I thought, for we were heading (would you believe it) right into the sun.

I think I blanked out.
I opened my eyes to see the penguin (of which I still didn’t know the name of) staring straight at me. “Oh she’s here again,” she said, like as if I wasn’t there before. Which I guess I wasn’t, really, since I was unconscious. I wondered whether I really was in heaven. I wondered if I’d ever see my family again and if they would be wondering where I was. Would they send a search party out for me? If someone had spotted me on the back of a penguin, flying into the sun, would they believe them?
I think the penguin was some kind of mind reader because she tutted at me once again (I was beginning to think she was turning into my mum) and pointed to somewhere with her flipper.
I tried to find out where she was pointing to but it was golly well hard with all the stupid giants blocking the way. Wait. Giants?

This is the first chapter to my new story. I don't know what to call it - please give me ideas, I would love to hear them! Thank you for reading.
Tigerlily

Nightmares Don't Last Forever

*a hope chamber is the place where hope lives

It’s puzzling trying to understand,
How do problems get fixed in the end?
When it starts you ask yourself the same old questions
But I don’t think that’s a very good suggestion

Will this keep on going on?
Will this race ever be won?
Why does it seem like the world’s tumbling down?
That someone tries to make you frown?

Yes, friends repeated that things would change,
that you’d feel the need to live again.
But it’s hard to believe even those you trust,
when your hope-chamber needs a dust.*

After being bruised and hurt,
tired and troubled, torched and burnt,
You wonder if your scars will heal
And dream of what the future reveals

You got lost, in the midst of the nightmare,
You wanted to breathe, you wanted some air…
Then! When you came out and the dream ended,
You felt relief even though you still needed to be mended.

And finally you get it, you realise your mistake
You thought that you were fine before but now you’re awake
The experience will help when you come across (yet again)
Now another nightmare (though this ones different) because you know that it’ll end

Authors Note: Its true, things come out alright in the end.
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