Zoelise
I really don't have any idea for a bio... I guess that is kind of a bad thing for a writer ;).
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Break my heart in 1000 words or less.
Written by Zoelise

Dere Mom

The following depicts a note a young girl wrote for her mother after she passed away part way through the journey from a mysterious illness, leaving the girl abandoned in the middle of their trek to reach new land. All the girl had left was in the satchel of her mother, several fruits and some journals which the girl learned to write from studying. The girl having no one to take care of her and being left all alone died four days later from dehydration. She was six years old.

Dere Mom,

I lrnd tu rit I no u r not her tu teech me but that is oka I no u stil luv me I no that u did not want tu leeve me her a lone I sum times get skared at nite wen the wend blows and stikz crak I wish u were her I wish u wold cum bak fur me I luv u a lot mom I theenk I wil sea u suun

Anna

5
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Break my heart in 1000 words or less.
Written by Zoelise
Dere Mom
The following depicts a note a young girl wrote for her mother after she passed away part way through the journey from a mysterious illness, leaving the girl abandoned in the middle of their trek to reach new land. All the girl had left was in the satchel of her mother, several fruits and some journals which the girl learned to write from studying. The girl having no one to take care of her and being left all alone died four days later from dehydration. She was six years old.




Dere Mom,
I lrnd tu rit I no u r not her tu teech me but that is oka I no u stil luv me I no that u did not want tu leeve me her a lone I sum times get skared at nite wen the wend blows and stikz crak I wish u were her I wish u wold cum bak fur me I luv u a lot mom I theenk I wil sea u suun

Anna
5
2
1
Juice
41 reads
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ProseChallenge #67: Write a poem about grief.
Written by Zoelise

Stranger In The Bedroom Down The Hall

Oh how I long for your touch,

The once again sweet facade of your voice,

Little girl surrounded by a lonesome world,

Death you did not grasp although Sometimes,

I wander,

If it would have been for the better,

So much pain surrounds me,

So much pain for the loss of you,

The loss of air surrounds my lungs,

Gripping life like oil on a summer's grill,

Grief is a monster to those consumed by death,

Yet the jaws of its vindictiveness are much greater,

When the loss is acquired by the living.

Not the little girl I once knew,

Void of blue eyes and innocent smiles,

Crying away the day,

Dreaming of pain in the night,

Sweet water falling down bruised cheeks,

Coating the rivers of ruin,

Surely you must see your reflection,

In the mirrors of your past,

Must long for the joy the content,

The truth and honestly of a beautiful present.

How hearts ache for damned,

Suffering in their own private Hell,

Heat of flames only to burn brighter than,

The spark of unspoken unrelinquished pain,

Grieve attaches to the living in the absence,

Of more living; leaking true death,

Silent tears and no bouquets of flowers,

For the stranger in the bedroom down the hall.

5
3
1
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12 reads
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ProseChallenge #67: Write a poem about grief.
Written by Zoelise
Stranger In The Bedroom Down The Hall

Oh how I long for your touch,
The once again sweet facade of your voice,
Little girl surrounded by a lonesome world,
Death you did not grasp although Sometimes,
I wander,
If it would have been for the better,
So much pain surrounds me,
So much pain for the loss of you,
The loss of air surrounds my lungs,
Gripping life like oil on a summer's grill,
Grief is a monster to those consumed by death,
Yet the jaws of its vindictiveness are much greater,
When the loss is acquired by the living.

Not the little girl I once knew,
Void of blue eyes and innocent smiles,
Crying away the day,
Dreaming of pain in the night,
Sweet water falling down bruised cheeks,
Coating the rivers of ruin,
Surely you must see your reflection,
In the mirrors of your past,
Must long for the joy the content,
The truth and honestly of a beautiful present.

How hearts ache for damned,
Suffering in their own private Hell,
Heat of flames only to burn brighter than,
The spark of unspoken unrelinquished pain,
Grieve attaches to the living in the absence,
Of more living; leaking true death,
Silent tears and no bouquets of flowers,
For the stranger in the bedroom down the hall.
5
3
1
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12 reads
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We're all caught in their strings, our actions aren't all our own.
Written by Zoelise

Of Webs and Weeping

String of thin, fragile silk,

Ensnarl tears of a delicate heart,

Such beauty was woven,

Such mournings were found,

Ye of mellow heart,

Let it your faith be connect to you,

For you are only the product of yourself,

Audacity others consume,

Affect you but they will not,

Effect you,

Stand strong ye of silk webs and weeping.

7
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14 reads
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We're all caught in their strings, our actions aren't all our own.
Written by Zoelise
Of Webs and Weeping
String of thin, fragile silk,
Ensnarl tears of a delicate heart,
Such beauty was woven,
Such mournings were found,
Ye of mellow heart,
Let it your faith be connect to you,
For you are only the product of yourself,
Audacity others consume,
Affect you but they will not,
Effect you,
Stand strong ye of silk webs and weeping.
7
3
1
Juice
14 reads
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Abusive Relationship
Written by Zoelise

Memories

I survived the beatings

I survived your words

I survived the pain

But will I survive the memories?

10
4
1
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26 reads
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Abusive Relationship
Written by Zoelise
Memories
I survived the beatings
I survived your words
I survived the pain
But will I survive the memories?
10
4
1
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I'm sorry
Written by Zoelise

I Would Go Back Everyday

It wasn't all your fault,

I was a big part of the problem,

The pain; the punishment,

Your solution.

I'm lost; the simple soul you one knew,

I would go back everyday,

And change; change where hurt began,

I'm sorry.

9
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1
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30 reads
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I'm sorry
Written by Zoelise
I Would Go Back Everyday
It wasn't all your fault,
I was a big part of the problem,
The pain; the punishment,
Your solution.
I'm lost; the simple soul you one knew,
I would go back everyday,
And change; change where hurt began,
I'm sorry.
9
4
1
Juice
30 reads
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CotW #65: Write a story about infidelity. The most eloquent, elegant, entertaining entry, ascertained by Prose, earns $100 and stays atop the Spotlight shelf for six straight days. Feel free to invite friends, distant family, even strange acquaintances to play this challenge with you anonymously. Please use #ProseChallenge #itslit for sharing online.
Written by Zoelise

Send me Postcards from Hell; or Not

Briannagen Flanders felt a warm slew of angry tears parade down her temple as she cleaned out the last of the drawers in their house. Well it was their house. The moment she caught her husband in the middle of a make out session with his office manager their marriage was over. Their marriage had not been perfect; no marriage ever is, but they were trying. Well at least she was trying. The fire in her heart commited her forgiveness to fall. Did the past 12 years not count for anything? Did the past 4,380 days lead up to nothing but heartache and betrayal? Briannagen felt her heart beating faster faster faster. Her cold fingers slightly shook as the brushed the canvas paper at her fingertips. Their marriage vows.

I Brinnagen Flanders takes Richard Malone to be my wedded husband.

-What was I thinking?

To have and to hold

-Well until you went around withholding information!

From this day forward

-I'm done with you I want a divorce!

For better, For worse

-Obviously worse, I'm a mess because of you!

In sickness and health

-I hope you catch an awful disease then burn in hell

To love and to cherish

-Well until you decided to 'cherish' two women at once!

Till death do us part

-Send me postcards from hell; or don't.

According to God's holy ordinance

-God knew this marriage was doomed the moment he slept with another woman!

And thereto I pledge myself to you

-And yet you couldn't stay pledged to me.

8
1
0
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39 reads
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CotW #65: Write a story about infidelity. The most eloquent, elegant, entertaining entry, ascertained by Prose, earns $100 and stays atop the Spotlight shelf for six straight days. Feel free to invite friends, distant family, even strange acquaintances to play this challenge with you anonymously. Please use #ProseChallenge #itslit for sharing online.
Written by Zoelise
Send me Postcards from Hell; or Not
Briannagen Flanders felt a warm slew of angry tears parade down her temple as she cleaned out the last of the drawers in their house. Well it was their house. The moment she caught her husband in the middle of a make out session with his office manager their marriage was over. Their marriage had not been perfect; no marriage ever is, but they were trying. Well at least she was trying. The fire in her heart commited her forgiveness to fall. Did the past 12 years not count for anything? Did the past 4,380 days lead up to nothing but heartache and betrayal? Briannagen felt her heart beating faster faster faster. Her cold fingers slightly shook as the brushed the canvas paper at her fingertips. Their marriage vows.

I Brinnagen Flanders takes Richard Malone to be my wedded husband.
-What was I thinking?
To have and to hold
-Well until you went around withholding information!
From this day forward
-I'm done with you I want a divorce!
For better, For worse
-Obviously worse, I'm a mess because of you!
In sickness and health
-I hope you catch an awful disease then burn in hell
To love and to cherish
-Well until you decided to 'cherish' two women at once!
Till death do us part
-Send me postcards from hell; or don't.
According to God's holy ordinance
-God knew this marriage was doomed the moment he slept with another woman!
And thereto I pledge myself to you
-And yet you couldn't stay pledged to me.


8
1
0
Juice
39 reads
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It happened in the library...
Written by Zoelise

I saw John Wallis Cry.

It happened in the library.

I saw John Wallis cry.

Not a hysterical sob or a mourn stricken wail but rather a gentle stream of tears to say goodbye.

I saw John Wallis cry.

His tough guy exterior melted when his father said die.

I saw John Wallis cry.

He looked at the book in his hands watching the memories fly.

I saw John Wallis cry.

Tear-soaked pages from the his father's yearbook of '85.

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It happened in the library...
Written by Zoelise
I saw John Wallis Cry.
It happened in the library.
I saw John Wallis cry.
Not a hysterical sob or a mourn stricken wail but rather a gentle stream of tears to say goodbye.
I saw John Wallis cry.
His tough guy exterior melted when his father said die.
I saw John Wallis cry.
He looked at the book in his hands watching the memories fly.
I saw John Wallis cry.
Tear-soaked pages from the his father's yearbook of '85.

5
0
1
Juice
13 reads
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Write a poem using the words "remember" and "forget" at least once, with one at the beginning and one near the end.
Written by Zoelise in portal Poetry & Free Verse

I Dreamed of the day You'd Remember

I dreamed of the day you'd remember

Dreamed of the Heaven we find above

I dream of the world where we are once again whole

Dream of a connection found worth while

I dream that one day you'd see me for me

I dreamed that the Alzheimer's would never set in

Dreaming of the love our names bore

I dream of the day when I am once again your great love

Dream of the memories skipping your mind

Dreamt of the forgotten past

6
2
1
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22 reads
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Write a poem using the words "remember" and "forget" at least once, with one at the beginning and one near the end.
Written by Zoelise in portal Poetry & Free Verse
I Dreamed of the day You'd Remember
I dreamed of the day you'd remember

Dreamed of the Heaven we find above

I dream of the world where we are once again whole

Dream of a connection found worth while

I dream that one day you'd see me for me

I dreamed that the Alzheimer's would never set in

Dreaming of the love our names bore

I dream of the day when I am once again your great love

Dream of the memories skipping your mind

Dreamt of the forgotten past

6
2
1
Juice
22 reads
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Day 1: Without looking up the definition define Brobdingnagian.
Written by Zoelise

Feeling Like A Blob But Only Being A Brob

Brobdingnagim: the art of feeling like a blob but only being a brob when the door bell goes ring ding and you just sit on your butt watching t.v.

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Day 1: Without looking up the definition define Brobdingnagian.
Written by Zoelise
Feeling Like A Blob But Only Being A Brob
Brobdingnagim: the art of feeling like a blob but only being a brob when the door bell goes ring ding and you just sit on your butt watching t.v.
3
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Micropoem challenge. In 10 lines, 50 words, show your adoration for a particularly juicy, well-turned, artfully, sculpted, astonishing part of the anatomy. There are legs, bums, and lovely downy breasts, folks, but there are also yummy surprises, say, upon the clavicle, or along the bridge of the nose. Delight me. Tag me. #davidaintgotnothinonyou
Written by Zoelise in portal Micropoetry

Beautiful Brows

To look at them is

To look at your soul

They play games upon your

Face, pulling fear when you

Crinkle your nose; beautiful brows

They tell me when you're

Sad, Hurt, Angry, Scared, Glad

Storybook of untold emotion the

Heart's hue the face holds

The sacred art; beautiful brows.

6
4
3
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15 reads
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Micropoem challenge. In 10 lines, 50 words, show your adoration for a particularly juicy, well-turned, artfully, sculpted, astonishing part of the anatomy. There are legs, bums, and lovely downy breasts, folks, but there are also yummy surprises, say, upon the clavicle, or along the bridge of the nose. Delight me. Tag me. #davidaintgotnothinonyou
Written by Zoelise in portal Micropoetry
Beautiful Brows
To look at them is
To look at your soul
They play games upon your
Face, pulling fear when you
Crinkle your nose; beautiful brows
They tell me when you're
Sad, Hurt, Angry, Scared, Glad
Storybook of untold emotion the
Heart's hue the face holds
The sacred art; beautiful brows.


6
4
3
Juice
15 reads
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