The Mask

The Mask


When it comes it wears a mask,
but the mask is different every time, so you won’t recognize it.
It comes in different shapes,
Different colours
It is slow and unnoticeable,
but wicked and despiteful.
You can not trust it at any time,
it puts on act,
It tries to be some thing it’s not,
Hoping to fool you,
and once you brought into
it’s horrible lie,
It removes its mask and reveals its ugly face.
The face of betrayal
The face of envy
The face of anger
The face of greed,
The face of pride
The ugly face of human ignorance is
All around us,
It hides it’s self with a mask.
Be careful you don’t were the mask.

Surprise

I crunched down behind the crimson sofa, remaining very still trying not to make a sound as dead silence echoed through the house. Sara was hiding behind the arm chair to my left side, a mystifies smile carved upon her pink lips. Her brown eyes waited impassionedly . Billy my other partner in crime has his back agenised the wall unit , his head bobbed back and fort as he struggled to keep him self awake. It was so dark in the house, and I wouldn’t be able to see them if it wasn’t for the moon light shining through the beside window. We had to remain quiet as we creped into the house, earlier so we wouldn’t wake up the neighbours living next door. We had to come early to set up before Molly came home and now all we have to do is wait until she came back home.The wait seemed like eternity, and I was about to fall a sleep, but a the sold sound of the key turning the lock made me jump.“she is here” Sara hissed.The front door slowly creaked opened braking the long period of silence, which was followed by the click clack of Molly’s high heals tapping on the wooden floor as she made her way into the house. I could feel my heart beating fast in my chest as I gripped the silver knife in my hand. Thoughts of everything going wrong flowed into my mind. Then the footsteps got louder as she got closer, “are you reedy” Billy called out. I nodded and he soon turned the lights on, Molly let out a horrifying scream, her eyes wide with fear.“Happy Birthday” we all yelled. Billy hander her the cake I handed her the knife.

Valentine day

It was a brisk cold February night of 1946, the chilly dry air echoed through the narrow streets like a wolf howl on a full moon night. Maryann glimpsed through the frosted window with glazed eyes, tears streaming down her soft skin like gentle rain in the spring time. With her shoulders slumped over and her long tangled chestnut brown hair running down her back, Maryann tightly grasped the fragile crumpled picture of her fiancee in her hand. Exactly a year had passed since World War II had ended, and exactly a year had passed since Noah the one man she had ever loved had departed, on the rough rigged battle field of Germany.
Slowly sitting down on the cushioned auburn sofa, she let out a sorrowful sigh as she strolled down through memory lain, remembering the time he had told her he had to go to war and how a mixture of irritation and sadness had filled her confused mind. In the end she knew she had to lit him go.
Coming back to reality Maryann rested her head back agenised the soft sofa. As she wiped the tears from her emerald green eyes, a faint smile crepes across her face as she remembered the letters she received from him every month, how excitement and joy would fill her young heart as she would run home from work just to read his letters over and over again. Then one day the letters stop coming, she remembered praying nonstop for him to come back.
Maryann's soft smile had vanished and warm tears rushed down her sadden face into her cold pail hands. She recalled that warm July afternoon. The sun was warm, the air was cool as she rode her bicycle down the path to her home. She had finished work at the hospital. She was shocked to find a letter addressed to her from the army. Knowing it was concerning Noah, she tore it open the snow white envelope. With sweaty, trembling palms she grasped the letter tight as she carefully read each word , her hear racing in her chest as she read the dreadful words that pierced through her heart like the steel blade knife. "Noah Miller was a brave soldier who will always be remembered, we are sorry to say that he passed away on the.." Those were the most painful agonizing words to her. She shook her head and again wiped the tears from her eyes Maryann came back into reality. She lifted her head and glared at the blazing amber flame from the fireplace which boldly stood in fortune of her. Her green eyes slowly shifted to the neatly line of picture frames which stood above the giant fireplace. The dusty picture frame in the middle caught her eye. It was from the last Valentine day party, before Noah and her were doing he swing, her powder pink dress twirled around as he spun the to loud sound of jazz music. With her light brown pinned back , her eyes gleaming with excitement and joy as she stared into his hazel eyes as they danced to the sounds of saxophones. That day as perfect she always a warm feeling around him, the type of feeling you get on the beach with warm summer breeze and golden rays of the beaming sun. But all she could feel now is a cold dark feeling at the bottom of her heart, like a peace was missing. He had always told her that he would always be therefore her, but mow he was gone and she was all by herself on this cold Valentine's day.
Maryann peered at the blazing fire place, with no hope in her heart and sadness in her eyes. She clutched herself to keep warm from the freezing cold winter night. Then all off a sudden she felt a sense of warmth like the rays of a bright golden sun, and at that moment she knew that Noah was with her.

Water

Water
Deep blue current pulling me into the depths of the sea,
brisk cold liquid that surrounds me causes my limes to freeze ,
Grasping for air it was difficult to breath, as I am choked by the grasp of the sea.
The ocean cried it's mighty roar, as its waves rises and slams me down.
I sank deeper and deeper unable to rise up.
Unable to breath, my lungs filled with water, as I sunk down why should I bother.
Blue cold liquid flooded my eyes as I am engulfed by the ocean's enormous size.
Spinning in circles, my head starts to ache, I drift farther and farther.
Everything goes black as I close my eyes

what is good art and bad art

Writers craft

Good art and Bad art


The difference between good art and bad art is that there is really no difference. Art can not be jugged on looks and appearance, but on opinion, different people have different taste in art. There fore no one can say what is good art or what is bad art. Art is mainly in the eye of the beholder and can’t be jugged as good or bad, since art is based on people’s opinions. Subjects like Math and Science require a right answer which determine weather you are right or whether you are wrong. But art has no correct answer, that is why art cant be call good art or bad art, because there is not only answer. When looking at a peace of art one can interpreter it to be complete different than what someone else would interpreter it as. Since a peace of art is viewed different to everybody it can’t be categorised as good art of bad art, because everybody will have a different opinion on what good art should look like and what bad art should look like.

Art doe not only refer to painting and sculptures, but to a verity of different media. Art is a all around from the clothing we where to the house we live in. The movies and plays we watch are art the books we read and write are also art, and differences between these many verities of art from, one similarity remains. Which is that all there forms of art are jugged differently, for example you go to watch a movie with your friend, they might have hated the movie but absolutely loved it. Whose opinion is the right one? The answer is neither one or the other. Art is constantly jugged by the public and no art peace can be categorised as good or bad, because it is all based on opinion. There fore art can’t be jugged as good art of bad art because art is always viewed differently.

Hot Chocolate

Coco beans freshly grounded carefully with care,
It’s rich crisp aroma fills the air.
A smooth creamy dark brown liquid is fills it’s way up.
Soon the snow coloured marshmallow sits at the top of the cup,
The hot porcelain mug is placed on the cold tiled table,
As fresh steam fills the dull kitchen air as soon as it is able.
So on this cold winter night this cup sits still.
Just waiting, so please don’t spill.

HOPE

What is Hope?
Hope is like the diamond in the rough
Hope is the light that shines through the depths of the darkness
Hope is the crystal clear rainbow after a terrifying storm
Hope is burning flames of warmth in the mistiness of the snow
Hope is the dream of tomorrow
Hope helps us to keep going and never giving up in life