Author’s Note: Hello I wrote this poem in my ENGL 220W class during college. My inspiration for this poem is from my passion for volleyball and from the anime Haikyuu. To make the imagery more clear while you’re reading the poem. Image a volleyball player floating up to spike a ball. When people hear or read the phrase ‘The view from the summit’ they often think about the view from an actual mountain/ summit. But the view from the summit that I’m trying to make others see is the view when the spiker’s head is above the net. And they see the other side from the very top. Hopefully, that will make things more clear. Enjoy!
1 Minute Read
Time slows down, almost to a stop. Surprised white eyes stare with intense curiosity. As I walk onto the court, human iron walls enter as well. The gigantic iron walls are blocking my view. Like flies and mosquitoes, they loom and appear constantly. Daylight sneaks through those iron walls like cracked windows. Black thin strings isolate me from my fear. Slowly, I fly higher than the tall and long white tape. The red and white warn me from getting near. It is drawn to me, like a magnet. And leaves me with its past emotions. I see it fly away with determination and fear. The top lights up like fireworks on the Fourth of July. It ends quickly and sets up for another round. The view from the summit doesn’t discriminate, all can reach it.
Hello, I would appreciate it if you would give me feedback on what you enjoyed and what you didn’t. If you have any questions, please don’t hesitate to comment or email me too! Thank you.
Author’s Note: Hello. This was a persona piece I wrote in my ENGL 220W class in college. It’s about the life, feelings, and journey of a volleyball or in general any ball. Ummm… I didn’t try to make it sexual in any way but it could sound like it. Just know I had no intention to make this sound sexual. Hopefully, you’ll enjoy this.
1 Minute Read
They don’t appreciate me. To them, I’m just a toy They play with it when they’re bored. I fly wherever they hit me Towards with their hard hands. If I don’t cooperate, they also kick me with their stinking feet. But some hands are soft. They gently push me forward And I float lightly to the other side. Eventually, I will deflate And I won’t be needed no more. That’s the sad life of a ball.
Hello, I would appreciate it if you would give me feedback on what you enjoyed and what you didn’t. If you have any questions, please don’t hesitate to comment or email me too! Thank you.
Author’s Note: Hello! This was a writing assignment I had in my college English class; ENGL 220W. Quick story about life and how the younger us had a simpler life. I also had a friend who wrote a piece about eating rice and I gained inspiration from them for this. Enjoy!
4 Minutes Read
Laying on the soft yet stiff bed, I burned with the feeling of wanting to leave. My body didn’t cooperate with my mind. And thus, I lie still on my bed patiently waiting. My green childhood blanket next to me gave me extra warmth. I always remember when I was sick, the number one food that I had to consume was, rice porridge.
Something so slimy and bland never tasted so good. Rice by itself is already bland, combining it with water too? An indescribable taste. No energy was needed to chew the soft jasmine rice. You could swallow the hot gooeyness of the porridge and you’ll still be fine.
The bowl of hot and steamy rice porridge sitting on top of the counter next to me. Its presence gave me a sense of comfort. I bring it slowly towards me and rest it on top of my lap. My warm body welcomes the warmth from the bowl of rice porridge as I scoop a spoonful into my mouth.
I move it back and forth from left to right to cool down the rice porridge as much as possible before I swallowed. Taking in a sigh of relief for not burning myself. I go back in for a second spoonful and repeat the sequence until I finished the bowl.
I never really understood why my fellow classmates in elementary would tell me that when they were sick. They would eat a bowl of chicken noodle soup instead of rice porridge. Slowly, as I grew up and got more educated. I realized that I wasn’t privileged enough for ‘chicken noodle soup.’ Later in life, I tried it once and I was very disappointed. “This is what you eat to get better?!” was my first initial reaction. I decided to stick with rice porridge as my cure food for my sick days.
Sitting outside in the hot summer heat. I ate my lunch. A bowl of rice and ice water or water rice with a tiny slice of watermelon. The coldness from the icy water rice radiating from the porcelain bowl. My small hands hold the bowl tightly afraid that I’ll drop it. After each spoonful of icy water rice, I nimble a little bit from the tiny slice of watermelon. The taste of the sweet red meat of the watermelon fruit lingers on my tongue after I swallow. Once again, I repeat the same steps until I finished my bowl of icy water rice and the tiny slice of watermelon was gone.
I’m not sure if I’m the only person that feels this way but I get both happy and sad after I finish eating something. I feel happy and grateful because I was able to eat something and not have my stomach empty. But I also feel sad because after eating the food I have. I don’t have it anymore. I don’t really know when or why I developed these types of feelings. Maybe it’s from my upbringing in an underprivileged family. For me that has made my relationship with food different because I’m more grateful for what I have and the amount of food I eat.
I kinda miss those days. The simpler days of just sitting outside eating a bowl of icy water rice in the summer heat or on a cold rainy day, eating a bowl of hot and gooey rice porridge. They were way simpler than today. Less stress, fewer worries, fewer problems, and more happiness maybe? I miss them, but then I think of my childhood as a whole. And I’m reminded that I’m in a better place now. But I’ll still have those bowls of icy water rice and hot rice porridge once in a while.
It’s simple. Three scoops of hot steamy rice into the porcelain bowl. One for myself. One for my ancestors. And one for the ones who aren’t here anymore. Let the rice sit for a couple minutes to cool down. While the rice is cooling down. Take a water bottle out of the freezer. Hit it once a bit hard but not too hard to create a reaction that freezes the water. Carefully pour the icy water over the cool downed rice. Once the water reaches the top and barely passes over a few grains of rice, stop pouring. Grab yourself a spoon and enjoy. See, it’s simple. Like the simple days of life.
Hello, I would appreciate it if you would give me feedback on what you enjoyed and what you didn’t. If you have any questions, please don’t hesitate to comment or email me too! Thank you.
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