Human

An old woman told me I looked like a doll. An old black preacher man thanked me for making him feel welcome in this store and for not being blinded by color. He said, "Who knows, you might be an angel." I smiled and thanked him-but inside I raged-Angels can't be human! And human I am. Angels don't make mistakes, as a human I have. Dolls don't feel anything. Even when children cut off all their hair and they become ugly and aged, the doll smiles still in that perfect serenity. These strangers don't care about my past, it is of no consequence to them. Only the now matters. They don't see the hurt lost little girl. They only see a doll with angel's wings and that perfect serene smile that passes all the tests.

4/14/02

Thanks to Bobby Ozuna!

If you like the banners and artwork on my blog, go to Drawing Stories With Words and check out Bobby Ozuna. He designed the links and banners for me and is currently offering the same for those of you who do not want to use default images.

Blogspot.com/inotauthor for more on Bobby Ozuna
bobbyozunaonline.com
myspace.com/inotauthor

Thanks Bobby!!!

Strange 2001

The strangeness of the day complicates my thoughts
and my work althought the same, is taking on another form.

Kind faces seem strange.
The air is strange.
Mystery foul play.
It all incorporates today.

I can see the moon in all it's fullness
although the sun still shines.
Strange.

It's all so strange today.
There is death about,
rebirth is near.

The way I walk is still the same
and yet today it feels so strange.
I am a stranger in my body
everyone is strange.

Even though it is all the same
the only thing I can describe is
Strange.

Untitled from 2001

It scares me
the KNOWING of my mortality,
the UNDERSTANDING of nothing
the FEELING of empty.

Ironic how trials in life
inflict inpiration
where serenity does not.

Joy leaves no room for rhyme
forsaking time for life all around.
Sorrow stretches time so long
and leaves room to wonder
on how much is taken for granted
until there is no more left to take.

Words pour more from a wounded soul
on the grief and toil one could endure
and suffer no more.
As if to write could make it right.
One is left ot wonder...
Will I sleep tonight?

First, let me introduce myself...
My name is Jessie and I am aspiring to be an author. I have had a way with words since a young age or so my 7th grade English Lit. teacher told me. Spelling and grammar are however not my strong points. So this will be one blog that will be Filled with errors! I ramble alot and am very ver sarcastic...it's a gift. I love to network with others that are like minded and not.

I plan to post exerpts from the stories I am writing and some poetry from past writings.
Feel free to leave a comment on any of them, your criticism is welcome...just don't comment on my spelling or grammar...I know! I know! I will try to keep it to a minimum...

So sit back and enjoy...this will be quite an adventure!

Jessie