Poetry: If I Had Twenty Minutes Left to Live…

This poem was inspired by the 24th prompt found in the book ‘1000 Awesome Writing Prompts’ by Ryan Andrew Kinder (http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/24198771-1-000-awesome-writing-prompts). It is a fantastic book that is full of great writing prompts for when you either need a little inspiration or you want to test/challenge yourself and your writing skills. Check it out!

If I had Twenty Minutes Left to Live…

If I had twenty minutes left to live,
I would spend a few in grief,
Torn between accepting fate
And remaining in disbelief.

I am far away from London’s streets,
From my home and all its joys,
From the lonely people not alone,
From its silence and its noise.

I would die, then, in Edinburgh,
In this cobbled, lovely place,
I think it would be beautiful,
To pass on in her embrace.

But far I am from parents dear,
And it causes me great pain,
That unless an afterlife exists,
I would not see them again.

So I would give them both a heartfelt call,
To remind them I hold them dear,
That though there’s change in all we see,
My love is strong and pure and clear.

And then I would message no one else,
If I had twenty minutes left to live,
And if they thought I was wrong in this,
I can only pray that they would forgive.

Forgive that I would truly want
To die quiet and alone,
For memories of me in death
Are memories I would postpone.

If I had twenty minutes left of life,
I would lay down as if to sleep,
I would play some music, calm and sweet,
And tap my fingers to the beat.

I would try to keep my mind from racing
Towards the panic of the unknown,
And instead think of philosophy,
Of the universe and of home.

Though fear is something I would feel,
Something that would taint my thoughts,
I would be thankful for my time on Earth
no matter that it was short.

I would give thanks for the joys I’ve felt,
for all the miseries and the pain,
But I would pray to have a chance,
To reach the skies again.

Oh to Edinburgh I would pray,
That you’d keep my body safe with you,
Until I could be taken back,
Back to the London I left for you.

Finally I would pray to God on high,
That I would not truly die alone,
That as my eyes close one more time,
That He would lead me from the known.

With my final seconds ticking by,
I know there would be nothing left to give,
But still I would try to stay awake,
I would have those seconds lived.

Copyright 24/01/2015 by Chanel Martin Ramirez. All rights reserved.

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Poetry: Then Sings My Soul

You asked of me one thing: to honour man as
the part of Creation which held

Your likeness.

This man of soil and clay
so unlike myself of light.

But, truly, what right did I have to deny You when this man had wronged me not?

I, who was created to be the most faithful.
I, the most beautiful of all Your subjects.

Such a simple ask it was as well,
to acknowledge the dignity of man and to pay to him his respect.
To love what You had come to love.

Yet even then I could feel insult smouldering in my veins;
I could feel the acid of offence pooling in my heart.
I understood the feeling of being cast away
when something better is made known

despite my devotion and my love.
I, the one created to worship and obey,
could at once feel the sting of disregard
and an anger that threatened to consume me.

I was consumed as Man and Woman would later consume knowledge.

I did not bow when all my brethren did.
I stood in defiance, belligerent and proud.
I was convinced of my own righteousness, I was not mistaken.
I could feel a sneer pulling at my lovely mouth
and instead of praise and worship, my lips spewed rebellion.

And so because I would not honour man
You have taken me from the lofty heavens
and laid me

low,low, low, low,
low beneath the skin of Mother Earth
until I could run my fingers against the walls of her bowels
and my voice could echo against her barren womb.

And yet though I may have done you wrong,
I will never regret my choice to choose.
Even though this choice, has brought me nought but
loneliness, hatred, fear and pain,
I will live with this punishment, I will become the darkness rife within my heart.

My God, my God, my God,
I loved you as I am sure you loved me…
I love and serve you still…
I am a stricken son insulted and bereaved,
My God, why have you abandoned me?

You Don’t Have To Be Pretty – On YA Fiction And Beauty As A Priority

I have never, ever thought of this sort of thing before and it is truly eye-opening. For years I have been told that, as a young woman, I ‘deserve’ to feel beautiful and ‘comfortable in our own skin’, truly, this idea is lacking in substance. Why is society structured in such a way that it is so fixated on looks and then wonders why thousands of girls and women are low on self-confidence? Why focus on physical appearance at the cost of other characteristics and then condescendingly tell these thousands upon thousands of women and girls that their low self-confidence isn’t justifiable because we ‘deserve’ to feel good in our our own skin? That very same skin we are often pressured to change. Although it is certainly important to feel content with ourselves, it is also important to recognise the other attributes that a person can have such as bravery and intelligence.

I find myself now wondering why the society I live in seems to think it unbearable to focus on anything other than physical beauty.

The Belle Jar

“I’m not trying to be self-deprecating,” I say, “I just don’t get it. I’m younger. I’m not pretty. I –”

He laughs, a deep laugh that sounds like it came from deep inside him, and touches his lips to my temple.

“Don’t pretend,” I say breathily. “You know I’m not. I’m not ugly, but I am certainly not pretty.”

“Fine. You’re not pretty. So?” He kisses my cheek. “I like how you look. You’re deadly smart. You’re brave. And even though you found out about Marcus …” His voice softens. “You aren’t giving me that look. Like I’m a kicked puppy or something.”

“Well,” I say. “You’re not.”

Veronica Roth, Divergent

This handful of sentences, spoken by Divergent‘s protagonists Tris and Four, might be some of the most revolutionary words ever written in a young adult novel. In fact, they’re pretty incredible no matter what the genre…

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