‘Dream your life away’

The First time I laid eyes on you,

All I Ever Wanted was to be yours.

You are My Kind of Man,

because in love We All Die Trying To Get It Right.

But with you everything is interlaced and set in place,

only awaiting for me and you to become us.

From Afar comes the Winds of Change,

but I want you to know your Mess is Mine.

This Wasted Time you say dear,

are just our Fires and Floods we create.

For the strong Riptide of me will wash away your flaming Red Eyes.

You can Play with Fire, because you are Reckless and careless at times.

But I can soothe your burns with cool cascades, bandage your open flesh.

Because the Best That I Can do with the time I have,

is to be the sea shore; always coming back to you.

Who am I to be in love with you, you may say.

But I Georgia, can’t help but feel this way.

The unknown of you, is what ignites the fire that I wish to be.

For maybe if we both lit

simultaneously,

flame within flame,

maybe we could burn,

maybe we could grow,

together.

— a.d


pic credit: Beach fire

 This poem was inspired by the spine poetry we did during the semester in our poetry groups. I decided instead of using book titles, I used song titles by the same artist. I used the album ‘Dream your life away’ by Vance Joy, overall he is a phenomenal artist with an amazing musical talent. I created the poetry piece by using all the names of his songs that I was capable to incorporate, without it being confusing. It is common how well, you can net words together to transform a list of song names into a poem. I wanted to create a sense of love and proving yourself to another person, fighting for the chance to be with them. She is the soothing water and he is the burning fire, as I show in the poem.

The whole idea of, “opposites attract” is shown through this piece. As in we all look for something we don’t have within someone else. Filling our souls with parts of us we wish to be, forms the process of two unalike things combining into everything you have ever wanted.

— Check out all the links of the songs by Vance Joy.

Livingstone&Cavell-Extraordinary Toys ~ Short Story

It was 7:30 pm, I was finished my late shift in the office. As I packed up papers into my brief case, I scanned over my planner at the reports due in less than a week. All my hopes of relaxation over the holiday were simply out of sight. My boss frankly took advantage of my lonely life over the season, so much so I didn’t mind. With no family living close by, all I received on Christmas was a long distance call with my Aunt and a package of mint tea from the gentle old lady within the apartment complex. I pushed the revolving door, and stepped outside in relief. I was free (well until tomorrow).

Swiftly I made my way towards the transit stop where the bus pulled up by the curb. The bus was empty, for only a older man clenching onto his handbag was sitting by the window with headphones in. I sat down in the back, as the bus took off. Unzipping my purse, I glanced at my phone “no messages” I placed it back. Gazing up above through the window at the blurry lights of buildings and vehicles, my eyelids drooped and grew heavy.

I woke up startled, my head twitching back and fourth looking all around me. I had no clue where I was, the bus started to slow down. I quickly jutted out of the bus as soon as it stopped, it was 8:15 pm. The street lights guided me. I started to contemplate everything, how terrible this night was going, how much I wanted to be home, how much I disliked my job that I worked so hard for. I tucked in my scarf, as the cold bitter wind crept down my neck.

Everything was closed, you could here faint classical music playing throughout the street (in order to stop loitering). Though I was tired, cold and unknowing of where I was; I found the music soothing. I tried to scan for anything familiar, I felt Déjà vu rush through me as I recognized a small toy store. It was nuzzled in a corner, perfectly placed. The store was painted like an ornament red, with green trim framing the windows. As twinkling golden lights flickered in tranquility. I read out to myself the store’s sign, “Livingstone & Cavell extraordinary toys”. As if a gust of memory, blew through me I remembered. I was reminded of my Father, my small hands and my wide eyes and my laughter. He used to always take me here.

I approached the door, as it had gold outlines, and paint slightly chipped away around the door knob. There were lights still kept on, and the “OPEN” sign wasn’t flipped. I opened the door and closed it behind me as a gush of warm air enveloped my body. Walking up the stairs my eyes lit up with life, as I stepped back into my childhood again. Bright bursting colors filled the store, everything was decorated from the shelves to the cashier desk. I was amazed, as I began searching throughout the store. With each corner of the store each memory I had remembered became vivid, like a film. It was a harmony before my eyes, looking through to the past. My mind fluttering with flashbacks, then everything froze.

“Can I help you?” I turned around caught of guard.

“Oh no… I’m sorry, you probably are closing the store right now. I just got lost and your store was the only one that was open.” I replied nervously.

“Well sometimes I like to keep it open late, for customers like you to come in.” he said with a chuckle

The creases of his eyes squinted, his forehead crinkled, as he lifted his gray bushy eyebrows. His cheeks grew with color, as he smiled with care.

“Looks like you had a long day.” The old man said as he pushed up his wide glasses, “You know we don’t get a lot of business people here.”

“Yeah you could say that and well I don’t usually fall asleep on the bus and miss my stop.” I responded

We both laughed.

“What’s your name dear?” he asked.

“Lauren, yours ?”

“Nice to meet you, and the name is Charles.”

He started to pick up and straighten out toys, to put back on the shelves. As I continued to search around the store aimlessly, fiddling with trinkets.

“You know Charles, I have been here before.” I told him as I spun a spinning top.

“Really now? What is your favorite toy?”

“As a kid, my Dad used to take me and we would always get a wind up music box together. We would then bring it home, place it on the shelf with our collection. He would wind it up, and I would stand on his feet as we danced around the room.”

“Do you still collect them, you and your father?” Charles responded as he glanced over and smiled.

“No, no we don’t.” My smile dropped and my heart felt heavy in my chest. “He past away years ago.”

He came closer to me, as his eyes glowed with sincerity. He sat me down as he knelt.

He spoke gently,”I am so sorry about your Father, Lauren.”

I chocked as a tear rushed down my face. “It’s.. It’s okay, I stopped collecting them when he died, it was just to hard.”

Charles held my hand in generosity,”I want to give you something, in memory of your father.”

I wiped my tears from my face, as he got up quickly.

I stood up, as he brought out a box. “You really don’t have to do this for me Charles.”

“I want to do this for you, because you remind me of my daughter.”

I unfolded the box and pulled out a snow globe, I wound it up as it played Silent night.

It was beautiful, inside was the small toy store painted red and green, lights hung along the window.  As snow cascades a layer along the roof. A Father in a winter coat and a little girl with pink snow boots and toque, there they stand holding hands in front of Livingstone & Cavell Extraordinary Toys.

“This means so much to me, Thank you Charlie.”

 It was 10:00 pm, I am happy and not alone.


Picture Credits: Livingstone&Cavell

This short story is based on my favorite toy shop growing up; Livingstone & Cavell in Kensington,Calgary.

spoken word- To my little brother

1234682_666439900148163_627466125038415559_nYou

have aqua blue eyes as if the hue of the sea was poured into your iris.

I

gazed into those glistening eyes as they first opened.

As our eyes interlocked I felt your presence.

You

absorbing the light of the world to project into your mind for the first time.

I

held you as if I was holding a whole universe, within my cradled arms.

The very day I vowed to protect you.

I

promise you, how small you believe you are

The galaxies existent on the pinpoints of your mind,

are far from being irrelevant.

You

love to ask why, as if your lips always knew how to form that very word.

Your mind’s questions stretch as far as the eye can see,

in order to piece together your endless curiosity.

You

will always try to find the different side of every story, the lesson beyond the hurt, the character behind the name and the beauty in the least expected.

I

will show you that no matter where you are in this world, the moon is no bigger than your thumb. You are the center of your own existence, there is no need to be afraid.

You

will paint the rainbow after every harsh storm,

just to show  the world beauty can blossom out of the darkest clouds.

I

will teach you how to share toys, like you will learn to share this world.

You

have the ability to make your smile travel around the world and come back to you. Just by the exchange of joy through strangers.

Your smile can do wonders.

If you allow the edges of your mouth to lift, and creases of your eyes appear.

I

will remind you of the small pockets of happiness you forgot you had along the way.

You

recovering your gifts like a diamond in the ruff, discovering treasures within yourself you never thought you had.

You have the urge,

to create, what you feel

to discover, what you question

to fight, for what you love

We all do.

You

shouldn’t allow fear to suppress your instinct for adventure. Despite what they say the only person you can ever be is yourself.

I

wish I could shield you from harsh parts of this world, but my hands aren’t big enough to mold all the hurt I wish to transform.

Promise me you

will not allow the shards of hatred, to tare open your untouched skin, to draw out your kindness like blood. To be dry of the very thing that nurtured you.

I

will feel your pain, may it be a scrape on your knee or the cracking of your heart, I will feel it all.

You

are never broken, even if it may feel your heart scattered of broken glass. I will piece together every fragment that was displaced, despite my fingers cut open and bleeding.

I

will be your bandage, my arms wrapping around and around. Every heart soar you feel, to heal, to protect all your wounded parts. To seal your innocence, so remorse won’t infect you.

You

As your soft cheeks and dimple turn to a jaw line and stubble, when you have broadened shoulders and rough hands that turn to fists.

I

will remind you, to never raise your hand to a women, unless she is your teacher and you are asking a question.

You

can use those fists to build up the broken, to plant pillars where you stand lifting your potential. To use your strength to change the world.

I

don’t want this world to get the best of you, stealing your forgiving spirit to bitterness.

You

will not occupy and value your happiness based on endless digits and dollar signs. Nothing can compare to the satisfaction of unconditional love family gives. To be rich off love, instead of self-indulgence.

 You

will not let the sand of time slip  through your finger tips. Holding onto grudges, and pain you will not forgive.

I

know one day, you will not need me to fight your battles. To seal up your wounds for you will be stronger. But I will always have your back, with reinforcements just in case.

Most of all, I want you to know

you may out grow the rides, be able to reach the monkey bars standing up.

But you will never out grow the opportunities life holds,

you will never out grow the love I have for you.


This spoken word poem is for my youngest brother. We have 13 years age difference, and he has so much to learn and discover in this world as a young boy. Creating this poem was meaningful to me as I plan to show him this when he is older. It was enjoyable to write as I was speaking from my heart. I have a very motherly sense of voice in this poem, because my characteristics towards Isaac is caring and loving.

I loved creating this piece, hope you enjoy.

Clock & Bandit

He chased time.

Searching for more hours in the day, more seconds in a minute.

Every night he would pick locks,

cracking open doors of fine clock shops.

To steal a little more time.

Secretly snatching wrist watches out of clutch purses,

to occupy his lessening of digits.

Clocks would tick

like the beating of his heart.

Tick-tick Tick-tick.

Consistent and relevant.

The clocks hands twitching clock-ward.

As beads of sweat would trickle down the creases of his forehead.

As digits were lowering, time was shrinking.

This fueled his anxiety, like a stick of TNT lit at both ends.

Hours and minutes ready to explode in his face.

He couldn’t buy for the time he lost,

as time could not be bargained with.

Repeatedly looking down staring at the fractions of time lessening.

one-half, one-third, one- fourth gone

Dozens of watches he wore, frantically tracking time.

He needed more time but every second he added disappeared.

Where did it all go?

He wasn’t a coo-coo clock

Rather he had a purpose of it all

He was determined to search for more time.

Time to solve his problems.

Time to bring hope for more chances.

Time to live, Time to breathe.

Yet his time fell short,

Stopped by the end of his rhythmic tick.

Time out ran him.

Past tense now vacant where he lay.

Time Eternal.

Present Life.

As we are only temporary souls, in need of more time.


photo credit: clock

The Good Old’ Days~ Grandpa Interview

Nova Scotia- 1950

The easier times in life; childhood. The mornings where you were up as soon as the bright June sun peered from the horizon; no moment of day shall be wasted. Silence would be broken by the rustle of farm animals, as they scavenged for left overs. The honking of geese and screeching of seagulls.  There sat a small boy staring out a dusty window; he gazed at the coast. Far beyond the rocky cliff a lighthouse stood symmetrical as it shaded the dew grass. He pondered in disposition, of the world he wish to know, the places yet to be discovered. He was hopeful that one day he could live his dream of traveling. Though just a boy with small hands and wide eyes, he never doubted his dreams. In his mind anything could be possible.

The boy dressed in tattered overalls and muddy boots, skipped down the crooked wood stairs. To meet his family surrounded around the table, breakfasts consisted of eggs fresh from the chicken coop and stale farm bread. “Charlie, hand over the butter.”his mom had gestured with a joyful smile. His mind wondering, snapped back into reality as he passed the butter plate. Ronnie the eldest brother nudged Charlie teasingly, “stop day-dreaming kid.” as Charlie smirked in disregard. The family discussed of plans, and the small towns news and events coming up.

The lifestyle where weather would decide the fate of the day, if it was sunny – it was work day. The brothers and father set off to work, the hay they had gathered in heaps towered over Charlie’s head as his head tilted way up to see the top of the pile. Following in his older brothers footsteps he clasped a pitchfork and began to stab scooping the dry hay into the wagon. The early morning grew to mid-day as they road the wagon down to the valley. His legs dangled from side to side as the wagon trotted along a narrow path with the power of their work horse; Pat. By the end of the long day, when they came back Mom would be sitting on the porch waving and greeting them home. Where a cold treat would be waiting for them, cold spring water with molasses and oat meal. It was in times like these, memories were formed and everything was soaked in. The day break sea air flooded your lungs and awakened your senses. This was home he thought to him self. This is where he truly belonged, no matter how far he traveled. No matter how old he grew, this would be the definition of “home”. Though this world is ever-changing, what will never change is the memories you hold dear.


Some quotes my Grandpa says-

“It’s all about the little things.”

“If I had a dime for every time someone told me I couldn’t, boy I’d be rich.”

“The proof is in the pudding.”

“Call a spade a spade.”

“Don’t worry unless it’s worth worrying about.”

 

What people think of me~ 2015

I handed out my journal freely for people to write as they wish about me, this is what happened.

Asna-                                                                                                                                                                                                           Alisha, you are one of my closest friends and I feel amazed how close we are. You have the sweetest nature I’ve seen in someone in a while. You’re genuine and a living example of the phrase, “beautiful inside and out.” Love you so much girl!

Arsal-                                                                                                                                                                                                              Alisha, you are one of the coolest gals I have ever met. I have known you since grade 7 (I think) and we even talked (wow!) We haven’t talked for a long time after that I still knew you and now that we’re in creative writing we have started talking again. (wow!)

Andrew-                                                                                                                                                                                                          Alisha with an I, you’re so Tumblr. Your Instagram feed, is to cool for school. I didn’t really get to know you until the end of last year. Yet I am so glad, I got to meet you and get to know you even more in creative writing. Rock & Roll, I love the cookies you bake! see you soon!

Claire B- (all lower case)                                                                                                                                                                               Alisha, I love you so so so so much, you are gorgeous inside and out. Thank you for being such an amazing friend, I appreciate everything you do. Your smile can make my day. Thank you for your existence, I love you.

Wild-                                                                                                                                                                                                                 Alisha, I don’t want to start this like a stereotypical letter or to be honest (tbh) that we would often see on Facebook. Where people just call you chill or just say they love you. I do like you very much, you’re one of the kindest people I know. But I want to just focus on one thing because that is just what I feel like doing now. Your hair is always amazing. It reminds me of a tiger on fire. I hope this inspires you somehow.

Ms. Hunnisett- ( sweeter than honey)                                                                                                                                                         My Beautiful Alisha, You came into my world a year ago and from that moment I knew I’d love you. You have eyes that connect, that encourage, that understand. With your eyes in the room- I’m safe! Thank you! You have a smile that radiates your heart’s intent- to live! And you have a laugh that reminds us that your wicked sense of humor is always joking- keeping us laughing too. You show the importance of enjoying all the little pleasures in life. A trickster of love brings such joy to my day! Thank you! Love! Laugh! Learn!


 

pic credit: venice

The Last Goodbye – Narrative Non-Fiction

 

Image credit: Farewell 

The level was quiet, yet cackling coughs and the beeps of heart monitors seemed to echo through the narrow halls. Artificial light covered the paste white walls, dull and lifeless. It was as if the place hadn’t seen the light of day. Death seemed to creep along the walls, and ooze through the elevator doors. It was as if bad luck would follow your trail, like a shadow. As we sat waiting in silence, I couldn’t digest how people could stay in here. I would grow sick of being imprisoned. Everything was cold, as warmth vanished from the building. It was as if joy was sucked dry of this place, depress would way on your shoulders. The white walls seemed to in close around me, I clutched my arms feeling claustrophobic. It was as if your mind couldn’t breathe, everything mourned.

 We approached a desk to ask where her room was, the nurse nodded sincerely and directed us down the hall. It was a year since I had seen her, and I would of never thought to meet her again here. As we passed several patients’ room’s, we finally arrived outside hers. The wooden light brown door was opened slightly, I could see her weakened face. I stared in shock of how different she appeared now, my mind rapidly viewing memories of her. As I was lost in my emotions, the nurse insisted to put gloves and an apron on. She was my family why did I have to protect myself from her? I then fully gowned, stepped closer to the door hesitant. My mind resisted to see her, she was ill. This memory of her now, I didn’t want to stick with me. My heart will remember her as herself.

My head peered around the door way, and her head turned to match her gaze with mine, she was beautiful. Her eyes glistened with love, with the little strength she had, she opened her arms to hug me. As I squeezed her gently, I felt her body shake. As she spoke with joy, her gentle smile lit the room with a effervescent glow. Her face was puffy as it muffled her soft voice as she tried to speak to me. We spoke for hours catching up, as I felt like back home during the holidays as she would sip wine and discuss the delight in the world.

My heart fell limp, as I recollected our visits, though it was rare it held a special place in my heart. She was joyful during the holidays as she would hum Christmas melodies, while decadently wrapping gifts. As a kid I was amazed at how detailed and precise she was with everything. She persisted to put all her effort into the people she loved. She would stroll around the kitchen, with a glowing smile as she mixed together delicious recipes, acknowledging my glances. Once the food was done, the house would envelope in a heavenly smell. Drifting back to reality, all I smelt as I inhaled was disinfectant wipes and dust. My memories so filled with life, though I faced bitter before me. She was made for more than this, her hope consumed by darkness.

 She fell optimistic, as she spoke the words, “I will get better.” Only to be stronger for us all because she knew we weren’t ready to face the sorrowful truth.  I grabbed her fragile hands, as her skin transparent; veins colored her skin with a bruised pigment. I felt the cold of her finger tips seep through my gloves, she was growing tired. I had to leave and say farewell, despite my heart pleading to stay longer. It’s in times like these you realize that we all reach a deadline, and time if never-ending. Though my time with her in this world has now faded away, our souls will meet again.

~ Dedicated for my Grandma ~

The Grand Finale – River writing Descriptive

Photo Credit: Pinterest

The bitter breeze flows through deciduous trees, sparking the season of beautiful facade. The harmony of autumn falls upon us, as life slows and comes to a gradual end. In the last month of life, nature bursts with the exquisite pigments of fall. The burst of beauty shows as the leaves are dominated by the colors of pumpkin orange and sunflower yellow, as their green tint dims. The transition of leaves, paint the landscape with an abstract blossom. The foliage no longer permanent as it cascades to the cold winter ground. Heaps of fallen leaves gather close to the tree as it brings a golden glow to the land. The abundant harvest of autumn lavishes the season in Thanksgiving and gatherings of family. Splendid smells of pie baking, campfire roasting and cozy cottages fill the air in bliss. Autumn occurs once a year, yet it is always present in our memories.

The nature orchestrates the true beauty within the leaves in the finale of life and warmth. It is the season of a beautiful end, expressing pigments hidden in the foliage throughout summer. It is the promise of a new beginning in spring as the frost melts and buds of green come out once again. Creations of art gleam in autumn, as the sky highlights the sun with hues of pink, orange and purple, it displays this earths wonder and beauty. It is fascinating, that as the day light becomes shorter and warmth fades nature shows its hope for a new light; life. It is in this season everything conveys it’s beauty one last time, as death is bitter it takes one last bow.

As the foliage grows darker, brown consumes them crisping their gentle edges. The leaves grow weak, as they lose their connections with the branches and a gust of wind takes their life. Lifelessly they float slowly to the ground, as they are free. As your footsteps walk along the path, leaves crunch in hope for life again. One by one deciduous trees slowly bare, till its twigs and branches are exposed. Winter arrives and snow falls burying the foliage as it once fell to give a new chance to this end.

Autumn is the Grand Finale.

 

Skip to toolbar