Original Writing
Have you ever felt life was helpless? Have you ever lost all hope?
Have you ever wondered weather God had abandoned you, leaving you to
face this world alone? I have. Who am I? My name is Antonio. It means
…..I am now an orphan. No mother, no father. My parents passed away,
leaving me at nine years of age, along with my sister….
My mother died of a disease. I don’t even know what it was called. The
death of my mother tore us apart. Life was different after her death
and it was difficult for us to move on. There were some, like my
father, who were never able to accept it. This pain, causing him to
die, leaving his two children behind.
Both of our parents are now gone. No one to turn to, because the rest
of the family turned their back on us. They’ve never really accepted
us. They always said that my mother and father were never meant to be.
Thinking that both parents dying in the period of a year was the worst
to possibly happen to little boy like me, but no, life got even worse.
My sister and I ended up in the streets of Brazil. Lying there,
sleeping during the day and begging at night. But all the begging
never got us anywhere. People didn’t even have enough for themselves,
talking about enough for someone else.
Living in the streets was horrible and scary, especially at night. You
will never know how dangerous it is, till the danger strikes you. I
remember that night so clearly. The night my sister got raped.
Picturing him stripping off her clothes, with no mercy, while his
friend held me. I felt so helpless. I couldn’t help her. I couldn’t
save her.
As a result, she ended up pregnant. At the age of eleven. I remember
her crying to me. Crying to her little brother. Telling me her life
was over. She told me she could never have this child. She was only a
child herself.
Original Writing My writing as a poet has been heavily influenced by writers like Langston Hughes, Nikki Giovanni, Alice Walker and Slam poets such as Black Thought and the Last Poets. These writers write and speak about the struggles and uniqueness of Black culture. Their individual experiences and political stances as well as the influences of other artist are evident in their work. For example in Giovanni’s poem “Revolutionary Music” she quotes some of the lyrics from Sam Cooke and James
The Assassin - Original Writing The rain gently pattered against the black BMW windows, parked against the think forest. That’s where he took refuge until it was time. His square jaw clenched tightly in anticipation. His cold, iron eyes pulled a mysterious attraction, almost daring to join its pain, happiness and anger. They promised danger, adventure and warned you at the same time. His jet, black hair, spiked in any direction and his slight stubble gave him a youthful look, however experienced
The Dark! - Original Writing All I see before me is darkness-a cold and chilling sight compared to the warmth my previous life had comforted me with. Everywhere I look is black, not a light or spark in sight. The situation I find myself in is so uncommon, yet so alluring to my senses. My body has become numb from the cool wind blowing, yet the wind seems to touch my mind as well, sending me into panic. Thoughts flow into my head. Where can I go in such a place? Where is there to run to in
Original Writing A few minutes north of London, the dark-grey sky, rising above bbuildings ; tall and thin. One end of the city is filled with people, lights, clubs and pubs. The other side of the city is quite and dark. The fog seems to linger over the street, clutching the buildings
Survival- Original Writing The sweltering jungle felt like a death trap; it was infested with venomous species of plants and animals. The humidity was intolerable. All I had was a small bottle of water, and a tiny, partly eaten, bar of chocolate. I had lost my main supply in the trees earlier, when I missed my landing target. I didn’t feel secure; yet I had no choice to continue. It was life or death for now, it was survival. I was mentally ill equipped for this alien world. I became more
Longstone - Original Writing The wind howled and huge waves struck the break water at Seahouses harbour. The small fisherman’s cottages that made up most of the coastal village shook with each onslaught from the vicious storm. Most of the men of the village had gone for the safety of their local pub, Ye Olde Ship, to wait out the storm. However, no one touched their drink now, as the patrons of Ye Olde Ship were staring out of the harbour side window and over the stormy sea. There loomed
The Regret - Original Writing Going back I remember my childhood being filled with happiness and joy, mainly because of the good atmoshere my household held. I was raised in a well- noff, loving family. I can not imagine what I would have done without this kind of support in my life. Now I was a good kid and at the age of only 7, I concentrated on all the good things I wanted to do with my life and the ambitions I had, I was determined to get a job of my dreams. I had a caring family and
Shaft - Original Writing I walked up the sandy footpath through the dunes, scuffing the dry ground with my toes. The sun blazed down making the bronzed ground shimmer like a pool of gold. The salty tang from the sea lingered on my tongue. The dry grasses and scrub growing in clumps alongside the path rustled softly in a gentle breeze, whispering in secret tongue, and a small clod of sand skittered forward, tickling my bare ankles. A few yards up, the sloping path levelled and then dropped
Original Writing - The Conflict He could hardly see anything. It was dark, wet and the road was slippery, it was just after nine o'clock. There was no sight of anybody on the windy, everlasting roads, except for him. Then all of a sudden two headlights appeared from the far away distance. The brightness blinded his eyes, but he didn't care so he carried on and predictably tried to clip the
In Hiding - Original Writing I had to find somewhere to hide. If I didn’t, I would be caught. I could hear the allies in the distance. I had been separated. My adrenaline was rushing. I knew I could not stop under any circumstances, my time was running out. The enemy could be on my trail in seconds rather than minutes. Ahead I could see a brick wall with a massive, dense bush just in front of it. I didn’t want to risk going on. This would have to do. The gloominess of the early evening
The Challenge - Original Writing In life, I am absolutely positive that we all face challenges at a certain point. In fact, life itself has always been a challenge to many, and I will not deny that fact. However, it is the various challenges and how you overcome them that make each challenge a special part in your life. I have been through good times and bad times. Yet all my life, I have never backed down from an obstacle in my life, yet this time, I wanted to fall asleep and never open
Determination - Original Writing When I was younger, I thought of myself as a coward. I was afraid to take risks, and for the most part went through life passively, often regretting afterwards the chances I chose not to take. In the past few years, however, I have undergone various experiences which have negated that feeling of cowardice. The culmination of these experiences came on September 19, 1999, as I hung roughly five thousand feet over Perris Valley, and in that precarious position
A Misunderstanding- Original Writing There was no colour in the room and every surface, like the street below was tainted by dust, smoke and cracks. Or blood. Although it had faded with a few hard scrubs, it was unmistakeably spattered on the bed sheets. Shaun lay down on the bed and stared at the ceiling and as he lit a cigarette, his unfocused gazed zoned in on a small iron plate that had been fixed on to the door over the spy hole. This disturbed him somehow, so he set to work on the
The Park - Original Writing 25 June 6:00am. As the sun slowly begins to rise, a peaceful chirping noise comes from the birds hidden amongst the trees. The park is about to wake from its long, tranquil and peaceful sleep. The woodland is beginning to arise-a humming grasshopper and the odd droning bee. The sunlight shines, making tall beams of light through the gaps in the branches of the trees. The tall night-scary trees become friendlier in the early morning brightness. As the woodland
Assassin - Original Writing A drop of blood rolled down his hand; that bright colour red did not manage to bring about any emotions. He cast a thought back to his childhood when he fell over and grazed his knee, the sight of blood made him wild. He was weak. Now he was as cold as a stone and after taking so many lives, after seeing waterfalls of red gushing out of his victims. The assassin was standing on a building crouching so that he would not be seen. He was a shadow of the night