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AMHudlow

~ A Writer Who Will One Day Be "Going Places"

AMHudlow

Tag Archives: creative

Forbidden

02 Tuesday Aug 2011

Posted by amhudlow in Poetry

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AMHudlow, Asexual, Bi, Bisexual, creative, equal, equality, Free Love, Gay, Gay Pride, HRC, Human Rights, Lesbian, life, love, poem, poetry, rights, Straight, Transgender


 

How do they not see what we see?

It’s beautiful, not ugly

We love as they love

Hope as they hope

Dream as they dream.

Yet we are wrong.

We are different, so we are damned

Shunned, banned, abused

One day we wish to be free

Free of your hate

No more hiding, no more fear

Once we are free like everyone else

This country will live up to it’s name!

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Would You Like To Live Forever?

13 Wednesday Jul 2011

Posted by amhudlow in Poetry

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AMHudlow, creative, death, earth, immortal, immortality, life, loss, poem, poetry


Would you like to live forever
To watch time fly by
To watch all life quickly pass, as you linger on.
To view good times and bad times while you can only stand alone.
All that you love goes away and the earth does decay.

Would you like to live forever?

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Winter

07 Thursday Jul 2011

Posted by amhudlow in Poetry

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AMHudlow, baby, creative, death, depression, hope, life, mourning, poem, poetry, widow


It’s been a long time since you left.

A year to be exact I wish to join you but I must be strong; For the both of us.

The swings in the park have lost their amusement.

But the memories we’ve shared bring me back.

Heaven is crying, only its tears rival my own.

Maybe like me, it misses you.

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Poor Son of Dixie

06 Wednesday Jul 2011

Posted by amhudlow in Fiction

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150, 150th Anniversary, America, AMHudlow, Civil War, confederate, creative, fear, fiction, Gettysberg, Grant, guns, History, Lincoln, North, Robert E Lee, Slavery, soilder, South, stories, story, Union, United States, War, writing


 

 

 

When the scared-looking soldier stepped out of the woods with his hands raised I was pretty sure that he wanted to surrender but my sergeant shot him anyway. “What was that for? He was surrendering?” I yelled at Sergeant Kelly as he lowered his rifle. “This is a war damnit! We have to kill some people.” He said as he went through the newly deceased soldiers clothes looking for ammunition. “But he was only a boy.” I said barley above a whisper. “Well blame his Mama for letting him join the army, William, now let’s move out” Continue reading →

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Muse

05 Tuesday Jul 2011

Posted by amhudlow in Fiction

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AMHudlow, awkward, CIA, cigarettes, creative, date, fiction, life, Muse, paranoia, stories, story, writing


Staring at the blank page before her, Robin hoped her inner muse would spring up out of the cosmos of her mind and give her the perfect idea for a new story. After about ten minutes Robin decided that her muse needed a cigarette. Reaching into her purse she took out her pack of Lucky Strikes only to find it empty. She breathed out a string of swear words and slammed her head onto the page that lay on the desk. Maybe the pain now shooting through her brain would release her muse. No such luck.

Now deciding that her muse really needed a cigarette she got up out of her chair and put on her converse for she would be walking to 7-Eleven. Walking always gave her ideas, they may be good or bad but they were ideas and they were the seeds to stories which would pay the rent.

“This town sucks,” she thought as she made her way down the main street of Fallen,Pennsylvania . A small town where all the elders knew each other and it seemed as if everyone was constantly smiling. Fallen was actually pretty creepy to some tourists, it was to “Stepford wives” for them.

“It’s way too cute”. She was about to reach into her pocket for a cancer stick when she remembered she was out, thus her quest to the gas station.

When she reached the only 7-Eleven in town she thanked who ever had marketed the franchise. Stepping inside, Carl, the only employee, smiled at her and gave her a timid little wave.

Robin closed her eyes and braced herself, as she stepped to the counter for Cark always asked her out.

“Hey Robin, how’s it going?” the akward looking 19-year-old asked his face turning a light shade of pink which looked horrible against his red hair.

“Things are great Carl, I’m working on a new story. Can I have a carton of Lucky Strikes please?” She asked.

“So what’s it about?” He asked as he retrieved the carton from under the counter. Since she was in an irritable mood beacuse of the lack of nicotine in her system she decided to play on his stupidity.

“I can’t tell you. It’s a story that the goverment wanted me to write for them. They have spies all over town watching me. If I were to tell you they would kill me and you on the spot.” Robin said so seriously she could have fooled herself. Carl blanched and his blue eyes doubled in size.

“Really? All over town?”

Robin nodded and tried to her best to suppress the giggle that was bubbling up inside her.

“Oh yeah all over, but don’t tell anyone.” He qiuckly nodded his face full of fear and she paid for her cigarettes. She left the store thankful that “the spies around town” had sidetracked Carl and he forgot to ask her out. She lit up and proceeded to return abck to her apartment.

As she unlocked the door an idea dawned on her. Her muse had finally wokne up, the jerk. She would write about an author who was comissioned to write for the CIA for some reason and had told someone. Sure it was a bad idea but it would lead to another story and that one was sure to be decent.

Sitting back down at her desk she looked down at the paper and smiled.

“If this is any good I might take Carl up on that date,” She thought.

 

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A Little bit of Contradiction or My Search for the Shore

01 Friday Jul 2011

Posted by amhudlow in Poetry

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AMHudlow, creative, life, loss, love, poem, poetry, writing


I cross the ocean of life,
Raging sea of black and purple.
But in the storm there is asylum, not far in the distance.
However it is a siren in disguise, tempting me off course.

Its sweet song seduces,
Filling my head with wonder and lies.
But I see through the fabrications,
And continue my travels.

The farther I swim away from him,
The more his call fills me to my brim.
Saturating my mind and bosom,
With its lust and antagonism.

I ignore its tune,
And continue to search for the shore.

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Ashley M Hudlow

Categories

  • Fiction
  • Just For Fun
  • Non Fiction
  • Poetry
  • Reviews

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