Creative Writing Essays

the alien, “Um, poetry, okay. Well, poetry is an art. Poetry is the engraved marble of language, almost like God’s way of language. Poetry is a form in which humans use for the aesthetic assets it possesses and the theoretical and creative content it holds. The writing form contains large amounts of either oral or literary works in which semantics are used in a way that helps connect the emotions felt by the user to the author. Poetry is evocative. It triggers the reader to feel an intense…

While sitting on my designated airplane seat, I lifted the window shades to catch a glimpse of the world under me. The once salmon and purple sky transformed into a vast expanse of jet-black that engulfed the mountainous Balkan Peninsula. A canopy of luminous stars materialized amongst the ocean of blackness. Some were dull, merely flickering into existence every now and then, but there was an adequate amount of shimmering stars to illuminate the dark, moonless night. The Adriatic Sea glistened,…

I was lying on the couch with Ivy on top on me when Shay burst through the front door. I nearly through her off my and into the coffee table, I was so startled. “Get up!” Shay came over, grabbed my shoulder, and pulled me into a standing position. His eyes were a dangerously dark shade of black and he was physically shaking from anger. “Shay, what’s going on?” I demanded as I positioned Ivy behind me. She gripped tightly onto my right hand while I held my other hand outstretched just in case…

Movin’ On Up Have you ever had a teacher who prematurely judged you as a student? I mean, the way a teacher, without getting to know you or your abilities as a student, just assumes that you are “just like your sibling”. My sophomore year of high school was the beginning of my “lack of confidence” path as a student. I had an assignment to write and orally present a 5 minute speech. The subject of the speech was left wide open. I chose alcoholism. I remember gathering a few facts from…

Now is the day of technological advancement and discoveries. Our ancestors have opened wondrous passages for us to take and follow and also for us continue their vision keeping in mind that the objective is to make the world a better place to live in. These ameliorations, however with pure intent, had compromising and inevitable effects to nature that we experience today. According to our forefathers, much has developed from before, not just the world we live in, but also the morality of today’s…

Breathless It’s the beginning of fall here in the Big Apple, a time of year that brings out both senses of calm and crazy. The apartment I share with my boyfriend is dark and cool, the only light is from the moon as it seeps its feathery blue rays through the curtains. My body is cocooned in the warm covers all alone as I try and keep myself warm without the usual body heat my boyfriend provides. I toss and turn before finally settling on a position and letting sleep envelope me. I don’t know…

The Earthquake Rebecca lived in Phoenix Arizona with her parents. Her parents were out grocery shopping and she had the afternoon to herself. She was in the kitchen reading a novel when she noticed that there was sand in her tea. Suddenly the house began to shake as if there were an earthquake. The house dropped at full speed and crashed through pipes and rocks. She lay on the ground hoping the collision would stop because she did not feel very well. The air in the kitchen began to feel warm…

I hadn't even set down my books when Pa knocked off table lamp. The first day of the school was over and we had just reached home from a silent car ride. "What's wrong?" Ma asked. "Two Purebloods!" Pa yelled. "Two goddamn Purebloods." "What?!" I said astonished. "Where? At school? I didn't encounter--" "The Beharry brothers," Pa answered. "How did you not realize?" I scowled. Beharry brothers? Amar was a Pureblood? I knew he was too handsome to be a human! Pa's question wasn't invalid and…

When I was drowning, I never felt more alive. Gods, I can’t really explain it. Not in a way anyone else would understand. But here. Imagine this: you’re a bird and when you’re flying is the only time you’ve ever felt safe, only for your wings to be ripped off suddenly, without care. In free fall, you shiver and scream in fear—but adrenaline rushes through your veins like it hasn’t in years. Suddenly, you’re addicted to this feeling of helplessness. Suddenly, you’re okay with dying, if only…

What am I supposed to do? How am I supposed to feel? Am I…am I allowed to let go? Or would that be a betrayal? A betrayal of us both? We’ve been told that he… my husband… is missing, but what is that supposed to mean? Is he gone? Really gone? They say that missing isn’t the same as killed, but it seems… well… it seems like it is; for us anyway. It feels as if he’s gone forever. For weeks now, I’ve been holding on to some small thread of hope, as if by keeping his memory alive, somehow I…