Sonnet 29 Novels & Stories

When Wendy Chance's father, Josiah, was rendered speechless, I was the only one he wanted to go to speech therapy with. Every time Wendy and I wanted to go out, Josiah would clutch the corner of my shirt. Once again, Wendy would stuff an unused train ticket in my hand and pat my shoulder apologetically. "Treat my dad well, and I'll make it up to you on another trip. Evan can accompany me on this business trip instead. Don’t overthink this." Evan Striker was the secretary she claimed knew his place. I had collected 27 unused tickets over the past three years. They were from unrealized trips to the mountains, historical towns, and the beach. Every ticket turned into a post on Evan's social

A soundless laugh escaped me. The low hum of crickets outside the window cut through the silence in the room. Why did I bother hoping Jonathan would correct Amanda? I drew in deep breaths to ease the pain in my heart. At that moment, Charlotte spoke up to diffuse the tension. She lightly hit Amanda's arm as she chided half-heartedly, "Amanda, we talked about this. He's 'Mr. Shaw' to you." "No, he's not! He's Daddy Jonny, and he's mine!" Amanda argued.

To the Moon that Doesn't Answer, In the silent night, the moon refuses to answer, In the dark sky, the stars are hidden, This heart is glued in sadness, Lost love, covered in mist, The flowers bloom without fragrance, Wounds engraved on the heart, Time goes on, but my heart The longing imprisoned in words, Late, unspoken, left behind, The love I offered, like the wind, Passing without a trace, leaving without a trace.Every second, every breath, is a Endless tears, In the dark, I look for a glimmer of hope, But all I meet are shadows. To the moon that does not answer, To the stars that are hidden, I leave this sad story, Of love rejected, yet eternal. On a path full of doubts, I walk heavily,

Deep into that darkness peering, Long I stood there, wondering, fearing, Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortals Ever dared to dream before; But the silence was unbroken, And the stillness gave no token, And the only word there spoken Was the whispered word, "Lenore!" This I whispered, and an echo Murmured back the word, "Lenore!" Merely this, and nothing more.

The heading of the poem was ' Waiting for too long' it went like this- " How long should I wait For the suspense is becoming too long And the feeling is so wrong They say I should wait for the right time Until the good things come For the good things come to those who wait What exactly should I wait for? For I'm afraid it would be the longest wait of my life But I'm going to wait anyway I guess it is worth a wait I ' ll wait for my life to turn out for the best As I would be walking away from the worst Breaking free from my old nest

see you at practice, sweetheart. I read it once. Read it again. Read it a third time, because my hands wouldn't stop shaking long enough for the first two to sink in.

I met a traveller from an antique land, Who said-"Two vast and trunkless legs of stone Stand in the desert. . . . Near them, on the sand, Half sunk a shattered visage lies, whose frown, And wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command, Tell that its sculptor well those passions read Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things, The hand that mocked them, and the heart that fed; And on the pedestal, these words appear: My name is Ozymandias, King of Kings; Look on my Works, ye Mighty, and despair! Nothing beside remains. Round the decay Of that colossal Wreck, boundless and bare The lone and level sands stretch far away." P.B Shelley

Her heart broke, as it made her think of all those times Caleb had left her, as she stood there, waiting for him herself. JULIET Come, night; come, Romeo; come, thou day in night; For thou wilt lie upon the wings of night Whiter than new snow on a raven's back. Come, gentle night, come, loving, black-brow'd night, Give me my Romeo; and, when he shall die, Take him and cut him out in little stars, And he will make the face of heaven so fine That all the world will be in love with night And pay no worship to the garish sun.

His young voice slowly walked through the words that didn't have any meaning then- not like they did now. "It is not now as it hath been of yore;- turn wheresoe'er I may, by night or day- the things which I have seen, I now can see no more." The tiny flame was barely enough for him to make out the tarred words, but it was just enough to make the freezing nights a little warmer and the sour tasting days a sliver sweeter. The air was musty and tainted, but it was a common occurrence now. "The rainbow comes and goes, and lovely is the rose. The moon doth with delight look round her when the heavens are bare, waters on a starry night are beautiful and fair..."

"Good fortune has been given, Goldenrod" Red Catchfly Forest, Myrtle, 1902 "Run! the sun is going down, the gun reaches for the crown. Two were shattered, cowardness scattered." "A rose I held, as it upheld my heart. Dear, we are being reduced everyone is fleeing." "The fondness needs to be protected My dearest, we are affected. Near the Hemlock approach, they're not in their sincerest." "Here came a Butterfly weed,