Merry sounds here and there,

people waving off the edge,

children screaming with festive joy,

As the beauty set its sail.

No one knew

Ever for sure that

Death may come

And that death may reap.

Everyone felt safe,

Safe in the ship,

Safe as in heaven,

Safe as at home.

Then it happened

The merry sounds turned

Into raging screams

As the white ghost hit the vessel.

The vessel did shriek,

It did turn,

As everyone realised that

Not all of them would be saved.

The Captain shouted;

″ Let the women and the children pass first,

And let them be saved;

My dear brothers, Remember our Country

Be British, Be true. ”

The whole crew stood by his word

And they all stared back at death,

As he stood behind the wheel.

The women and the children were saved,

Saved by the courage of these men,

The men who will forever remain,

In the walls of history.

As we looked into the sea,

Seeing all those boats sailing away,

Knowing that all hope is lost,

Soon began playing our favorite song,

′ Nearer My God to Thee’.

The ship soon did sink,

Into the depths of the sea,

And our last grand performance,

Still echoes in the walls of history.

© Amal_Z

#poem #titanic

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I’ve been busy these days, looking for what to study in the future. So please do spare me if i did not respond to any of your messages, tags, posts, comments, etc. :)

Dundro Baggins of (formerly) Bag End awoke from bed one morning. Stiffly he rose, grumbling at the young sun. Hobbits are queer folk, and have reached some of stagnation with the state of their lives. They were thus not prone to waking at odd hours. Dundro himself could not grapple with the fact that he had finally beat the sun at its own game. Unable to sleep, he stomped off cursing heavily.

He headed out, fishing rod in hand. He took one last look at a painting of his great-great-grandfather, Bilbo. How he wanted to go on an adventure like he did. And the tales he heard about his granduncle, Frodo, outmatched all expectations. How he wanted to meet Elves in their Homely Home and the Dwarves in their Mines. How he wanted to slay a mighty dragon or a fearsome orc. “Those days have long passed,” said he out loud, and sullenly made for the Brandybuck River.

Dear Prosers

Oh, how I hate to say goodbye even though I know it is only for a little time.

I've come to a new season in my life and I will be taking a little break from Prose, I will continue my writing and will come back to post it soon.

I wish you all well and hope you all continue to grow in your writing and grow into who you are. love yall. happy writing.

love, Jenevieve

p.s if your into watching vlogs on youtube ill have one coming in about a year(theofficalJenevieve) if all goes well!

Seated at a banquet

Points made to fly

Forever on a blanket

Stars fill the sky

A star will sometimes stumble

A star will sometimes fall

And down the star will tumble

Till nothing is left at all

What do they do you may ask,

“What do they eat?”, you say

They never dream of doing a task

But dance the night away

The house is crumbling down around me

Or am I imagining all the cracks in the walls

There is a woman's face behind the bare studs

She whispers to me the end is near

I tell her she aint seen nothin yet

Wait till the floor gives way

When it happens we are both ready

Holding hands we carelessly slip away

Carefully tiptoeing every conversation.

Rethinking every word.

Watching for the flinch.

Knowing.

Waiting.

How long?

Where is tranquility?

Can she be free?

Does physical separation

belie mental

or emotional severance?

There is no darkness deeper,

no blackness bleaker,

than a night without stars.

“This is a dream? I just thought you wrote this!”

My best friend says that a lot. He thinks that my dreams make too much sense. I think that my dreams can be weird. I mean, Harley Quinn chasing me around in circles on a dock, my nephew turning into a cat, and three instances in which the future was told to me in cryptic ways (if I can find those, I will post them. I wrote them down). Now it is time I publish some of my dreams. Then we will see how truly strange and bizarre they are.

I had a mini-series of dreams (two dreams to be precise) that occurred in the same “universe.” I find these dreams interesting because the first recreated the plot of The Quiet Place long before I knew what the movie was about. It was when I had the second dream that I realized that the creators of the movie had somehow gained access to my dreams and stolen one of them, creating a movie out of it.

But enough about me and this book, you guys are here for dreams.

So, I was thinking. I have only two months of school life left. The exams are all approaching soon. And this result has quite an impact on deciding my future. So, maybe I should consider staying away from some things for a while-From Facebook to Youtube, and maybe Prose.

I mean, for almost a month, I was not able to finish a single post. And I don't think I really would be able to do that in the coming months too. So, maybe instead of attempting and failing in multitasking, again and again, I think I should focus on one task right now. And considering the current circumstances, the top priority should be learning, of course. So, this is almost like a short goodbye.

I mean, I would come back, of course. This place is now a part of my life. I am not leaving this place (At least not anytime soon. You see, life can be unpredictable ^-^). So, I might not be around here for a while. I might be busy devouring textbooks. So, I will miss you guys. But I will be back soon ^-^

PS: And the day I return, I am announcing my arrival by taking down this post, lol. It seems far too emotional for my type ^-^ So until someday halfway April, keep this place cheerful, won't ya ^-^

Hello, welcome to my mind.

I hoard notebooks. Most of them have one or two pages filled, and then are abandoned in drawers.

Some may never get used at all.

But right now, we can leave these dozens of notebooks aside. I only want to focus on the three that actually got filled, and a fourth that I've started.

Ever since 2017, I've started writing all of my ideas down in notebooks. Since then, I've filled three notebooks and started a fourth with a total of 205 ideas. Most of them, I expect I'll never come back to. Some, I've started and may never finish. Some, I've actually written.

Mostly, I hope that these notebooks will become lost manuscripts. When I die, hoards of fans will show up at my doorstep and pay ludicrous amounts of money to peer into my mind.

But of course, that's just a fantasy. I may never be famous. I may never even be a published writer.

But it's nice to dream. It's nice to fall into that fantasy for a while.

But for now, those 3-and-counting notebooks will stay right where they are. In a drawer. To be thought of once and a while, but mostly, to be ignored.