Jennifer orr
Bio
hello I'm jenny NEW to this place such a exciting moment from UK needed to vent so followed the link and was surprised that my stuff was published whoop!
Stories (6)
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A wise reflection
The day was cheery bright and full of light, the last task of the day; to finish a picture meant as homework overnight. This being a tree at night, with shining stars above, with wise old owl perched on tree, only one thing missing the sketches voice. The scenes colours spoke volumes more than the future that would make it come to life, that time the life after life.
By Jennifer orr4 years ago in Fiction
cut the bull
The warrior did begin, the bull in a rage stopped dead. Seeing red in the still, all untold of forgotten moments repressed. Like the child of emotion, waves from the crowd the commotion, the heart to the soul and the spirit to the mind, a warrior came forth out of the time. The past of growing grace that filled her once upon a time; kept the warrior a rock and sheath for others of the soul, her way emotional stunted by the bull that came her way.
By Jennifer orr4 years ago in Fiction
shark bated.
Swimming in the depths, the shallow shore behind, standing on a rock the elementary divide. A woman hiding beneath, the blood not from the rock, did tell a tale of the shark, that would consume becoming her. Now the sea was god, the shores were shallow and mankind that caused all the fear. Not the vast seas I used to fear, she was going to eat the fish swimming in the sea but the fear that crippled, that stopped the child that day, was the vastness of the ocean and the light that filled her day.
By Jennifer orr5 years ago in Fiction
In the name of
The belief of being dead, was persuasion in the end, no different from a derogatory voice, madness did set in. Thunder in my life, strikes this heart of mine. My truth a smell of old, without a heart, waiting low to strike, that voice a hidden other time, not me, just a bitter symphony.
By Jennifer orr5 years ago in Families
Mums the word.
The illness of being dead, was persuasion in the end, no different from a derogatory voice, madness did set in, thunder in my life, strikes my mind a smell of old, without a heart, waiting low to strike, that voice a hidden truth, not me just, but a bitter symphony.
By Jennifer orr5 years ago in Confessions
