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Creative Writing “outside the box”
By Sam Armstrong
I wrote these for my Creative Writing class. The first piece was
originally written to describe one object that we chose to observe. I
observed a bicycle. After that, we had to describe that same object in
terms of something else. I learned that this was called conceit. And I
decided to try to describe a bicycle using nouns, verbs, and adjectives
that would normally be used to describe a whale.
In the second piece, we had to compose a poem of 10 sentences. The
first sentence had to have 10 words, the next sentence had to have 9,
and so on until the last line of the poem was only one word. It really
made us think, plan ahead, and choose our words carefully.
I enjoyed writing these, even if they are small works, so I thought I’d
share them with the Teen Scribes and County News Online readers.
Intro to Creative Writing
Observations w/
Conceit
By Sam Armstrong
You drifted there, stilling your cushioned blubber seat while you
waited for your tires to again give way under the weight of a smaller
machine with more flesh. You recalled the days of old, before the
Wetsuit Wearers carelessly drove your hulking frame and controlled your
every stroke, and then invented better versions of you to navigate,
with flashing button colors to make themselves better. Now the veins
gliding from your flippers are clogged with grease and dust from your
Samsara tail, and the rate and flow of your electric blood is another
gearshift of the person your silver spokes will never quite bring into
focus.
“We need your pipes for support, we need your pedals to go faster,
because your moons reflect the bulbs of the bigger machines churning by
us everyday.” These demands chaotically swam around as you tried in
vain to protect your golden bell from their curious infant fingers. But
your song was silent when the rest of the machines were screaming smoke
and mirrors.
Cinemas
By Sam Armstrong
It lay silently next to the drawer with the forks.
Parallel to the granite countertop, close to the ladle.
It winced as silver cut up chilled meat.
Unheard groans signaled its impending role: accomplice.
It wasn’t that he was evil.
He was simply a handle.
A means of violence.
A black cover.
A guard.
Knife.
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