Poems On Odyssey: WILTED

Poems On Odyssey: WILTED

Is it really a symbol of love?

In a poetry class, my professor challenged us to write a poem from the perspective of an object. I sat in my dorm room perplexed, I had no idea what to write about. The inspiration came when I looked upon the dying flowers on my roommate's desk and a poem was born. I looked at life from another eye and challenged the idea of what flowers are typically used for.


By: Kelsey Hoffman

The sun rays burn upon me

Awakening the senses within

Calling me out of my humbled state

I grow with fear in the twinkling of your eyes

I am small compared to the world I behold

My sent carries for miles and miles

I am touched by the softness of your hands

Then plucked from the place I once knew

Darkness falls upon me

Your rough hands now clasping around my neck

The shimmering dress that you force around my body

Clear and restricting, pointless to me

I come to find the sun in a new place

Your curious hand now caressing my being

My breath shortens and I feel the oxygen leaving me

I have become a decoration for you to admire

A memento you thought was love

The water I now drink is poisoned

I am confined even more than I once was

My eyes no longer shimmer in the light

I have fallen like tears from the sky

I have aged more in a few hours than in an entire lifetime

You look with glossy eyes for my minutes are numbered

Your gentle hands cannot save the tortured

Wilted and dying

Nothing to stop the course of nature

I must bid you adieu

We flowers aren’t everlasting.

Cover Image Credit: Pexels

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I Blame My Dad For My High Expectations

Dad, it's all your fault.

I always tell my dad that no matter who I date, he's always my number one guy. Sometimes I say it as more of a routine thing. However, the meaning behind it is all too real. For as long as I can remember my dad has been my one true love, and it's going to be hard to find someone who can top him.

My dad loves me when I am difficult. He knows how to keep the perfect distance on the days when I'm in a mood, how to hold me on the days that are tough, and how to stand by me on the days that are good.

He listens to me rant for hours over people, my days at school, or the episode of 'Grey's Anatomy' I watched that night and never once loses interest.

He picks on me about my hair, outfit, shoes, and everything else after spending hours to get ready only to end by telling me, “You look good." And I know he means it.

He holds the door for me, carries my bags for me, and always buys my food. He goes out of his way to make me smile when he sees that I'm upset. He calls me randomly during the day to see how I'm doing and how my day is going and drops everything to answer the phone when I call.

When it comes to other people, my dad has a heart of gold. He will do anything for anyone, even his worst enemy. He will smile at strangers and compliment people he barely knows. He will strike up a conversation with anyone, even if it means going way out of his way, and he will always put himself last.

My dad also knows when to give tough love. He knows how to make me respect him without having to ask for it or enforce it. He knows how to make me want to be a better person just to make him proud. He has molded me into who I am today without ever pushing me too hard. He knew the exact times I needed to be reminded who I was.

Dad, you have my respect, trust, but most of all my heart. You have impacted my life most of all, and for that, I can never repay you. Without you, I wouldn't know what I to look for when I finally begin to search for who I want to spend the rest of my life with, but it might take some time to find someone who measures up to you.

To my future husband, I'm sorry. You have some huge shoes to fill, and most of all, I hope you can cook.

Cover Image Credit: Logan Photography

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Short Stories On Odyssey: Roses

What's worth more than red roses?


Five years old and a bouquet of roses rested in her hands. The audience-- clapped away her performance, giving her a standing ovation. She's smiling then because everything made sense, her happiness as bright as the roses she held in her hands.

Fifteen now, and a pile of papers rested on her desk. The teachers all smiled when she walked down the aisle and gave them her presentation. She was content then but oh so stressed, but her parents happy she had an A as a grade, not red on her chest.

Eighteen now and a trail of tears followed her to the door. Partying, and doing some wild things, she just didn't know who she was. She's crying now, doesn't know anymore, slamming her fists into walls, pricking her fingers on roses' thorns.

Twenty-one and a bundle of bills were grasped in her hands. All the men-- clapped and roared as she sold her soul, to the pole, for a dance. She's frowning now because everything went wrong, but she has to stay strong, for rich green money, is worth more than red roses.

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