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Showing posts from March, 2016

Poem: I am the Monster

I am the Monster
by Alyson Schroll

I am the monster under this little girl's bed. 

She crawls into bed each night,
prays a little prayer,
and wishes the light to the bathroom could always stay lit
even if she never had to go.

She doesn't know why I'm here. 

It's the dreams. I do what I can to stop the dreams.
I try to stop the pain the nightmares cause.
She should never have to feel the hurt that she does in her sleep. 

My growl is fierce, and I fight every chance I get.
Space is small, and my reach is just short. 
Some dreams, I can’t stop.

That little girl doesn't understand what I try to do.
Some nights she whispers,
"Hey Monster, can you turn on the light? I have to go potty."
Other nights she screams at me,
"I hate you. Stop helping."
She'll kick and slap.
"Go away. I want to be alone."

Monsters can cry too. 

But you see, I love her too much to let her face those dreams alone.

My Commentary

This poem is one of the earlier ones I wrote …

Poem: Good Friday

Good Friday
By Alyson Schroll

I’m pushed forward as I watch the conviction.
Pilate has shuffled in and out of those closed doors.
I saw, once, his shoulders begin to shake,
His hands start to sweat, and lip twitch with each phrase.
Justice has never transpired quite like this before.
Maybe it’s Pilate’s flimsy stance that makes me wonder, but,
I just can’t accept that worry is the end.

I'm tossed around as I follow the masses.
The crowds’ sandals trample the trail of blood,
Of a Man who only enraged by doing good.
Although they followed him through cities and places,
These people are now red with violence and hate.
Maybe it’s His lack of hate that makes me wonder, but
I just can’t accept that anger is the end.

I’m left alone as I notice the onlookers.
The men and woman standing at a distance,
Half-watching, hiding, but listening to His mumbled words.
Perhaps the power to utilize His existence,
Was now, just a murdered hope, a dream burned.
Maybe it’s the space they keep from Him that makes me wonde…

A to Z Writing Resources

I'm featuring a post series on my favorite writing resources from A to Z. Below is the progress I have made. Read, learn, and improve your writing. Feel free to share any resources that you have found extremely helpful, especially if they start with today's featured letter. I'm also posting these on my Facebook on a regular basis.

A for Antagonist

B for Backstory

C for Conflict
Chapter One

D for Dialogue

Disclaimer on Sharing my Poems

What is poetry? Is it a story written in a rhythmic way or feelings expressed through ink shapes on a page? Is poetry a fire meant to brand an impression or desecrate an trend? Is poetry pure necessary noise the world needs to breath in to transform and survive?
I write words. These words create lines and rhymes. Sometimes, I talk to you, sometimes I talk to me. And, sometimes I talk to someone, somewhere in the world that I know must exist. At times, emotion ties the sentences together, but sometimes, it doesn't require a feeling to know one must read on. These words sometimes hurt--I didn't do that on purpose. It just happened. In fact, every poem I write "just happens" and none are the same.
I would like to share my poems with you, but before I do, I must make sure you know what my words are and what they are not.
My poetry is a process of how I process. The narratives aren't meant to be fables or exhaustive details about reality. The comments aren't meant…

What I've Learned from Living Alone

While all my friends traveled back home to their families or to new place with a car full of friends, I spent spring break alone. I packed up ten days’ worth of stuff and moved to a town I had never been. I moved to house-sit for a family I have no memory of ever meeting--though they know my father. They were gone almost all week. I went grocery shopping, bought smartly, planned a menu, cooked great and healthy meals. I went to church, met new people, and walked around downtown. While there, I conducted nine interviews with strangers for a class project. That was extremely awkward, but a great learning experience. Monday morning, I started my job at the Creation Museum, an hour commute each way. At the end of every day, I came home, cooked dinner, cleaned a little, did some laundry, watched TV, and went to be early. Life simple being alone.
I learned that I'm good at living by myself. Being independent comes easily to me. I have no fear of caring for my needs. I can cook, clean, o…