Sad poem...111111 *salute*

So guys, we fin dourselves once again back round to Remembrence Day. And though they may not hear it, i want to say thhanks to all those who've sacraficed so much both past and present in all branches of the armed forces, doing a job so few of us are truly capable of.

*salute*

AAANND now for a short poem like thing (not REALLY apoem...but anyhoo...). It popped into my head whilst walking from school to work today, and tis really kinda crap tbh...BUT i'll give it to you anyway...

*********************************

I saw them fall, you know
I fell too
They died
...and I died

I saw the red stain the dirt too, you know
their blood
...and my blood

I saw the fear...and the panic, in their eyes
I saw the reflection, my reflection
in their eyes
as they died
as i died

But around us the grass still grew
even if i could not see
or they could not see
the grass still grew
and the poppies still grew
Red
As we died.



RIP brave soldiers. xxx

Part 1!

OKILY DOKE!
Don't you guys feel special... Not ONLY do you get a pic tonight, but this!

TADA!!

This... *cough* isNJ'ssecondpartofherbirthdaypresent...

YUP! I feel so guilty i never finished this MONTHS ago, but at last it is here! Or at least part 1 is. but the good thing is, there's only 2 parts, and it is TRULY almost done :)

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Ugweeds at the Gallery

 

This can’t be art, can it? was NJ’s only thought as she gazed aghast at the canvas before her. She cursed Rachel under her breath. Thinking back, she couldn’t recall how she’s managed to drag NJ along to an art gallery of all things on her birthday… In all honesty, she couldn’t think of anything worse she could be doing. Even- NJ shuddered at the thought- fighting Ugweeds. A whole band of them. Single handed. Even without using magic, just to make things interesting.

But this painting was doing nothing to change her outlook on the tragic excuse for art nowadays. She gazed at the painting she now found herself in front of. Needless to say, she wasn’t impressed. The canvas was yellow, with a grand total of what she could only describe as six white scribbles scrawled across its surface. A patronizing eyebrow was raised. Even, NJ thought a blood spatter or something would make it a little more interesting to look at.

But after an entire three seconds of attempting to give the picture her full attention, she gave up, and turned to Rachel to moan about how belittling picture gazing was to her reputation. Especially gazing at pictures that a rampant five year old could replicate with nothing but its fingers and a pot of paint. But her friend was not there.

“Wha-!” NJ turned, mouth agape, to the picture. “She abandoned me! In an art gallery!” Only the paintings heard her outcry; no one else was sad enough to go to an art gallery, after all…

NJ glared at the picture with the six white scribbles as if its mere presence was offending; as if it was the loner kid your parent abandons you to play with because no one else dare d to get caught doing so. No, Rachel was probably sniggering at her from the next room or something. She could almost hear it now…

She was just about to storm off to give her friend a piece of her mind, already planning a “proper things to do on birthdays” speech, when a sudden tickle assaulted her nose.

And before she could stop it, she sneezed all over six-scribble-painting.

And she watched in horror as the paint began to ooze down the canvas in slow, mortal dribbles of lifeblood.

And then she noticed the price-tag.

And then she legged it. Or at least, she thought about it. Until a big, grief stricken squeal sounded from behind her.

“Mon painting!” NJ turned guiltily around to find herself face to face with a ruffle looking man with the type of little French beret that just screamed artist. Tears looked just about ready to fall from his eyes.

Good God, NJ though, praying for those rogue Ugweeds to just come barrelling through these depressing halls. Anything, just to get away from this…mortal’s situation… NJ was not someone who could deal with upset little artists with less than tasteful paintings of scribbles… God, Rachel was going to get it when she found her.

“I am so sorry, Mr Artist, sir. But I, um…can fix it? You know, just give me some paint and I’ll fix those scribbles right up there-“

The little French man wailed his blubbering outrage. “NOOooo!”

“Well,” NJ interjected quickly (and somewhat desperately), “I can get my friend to pay for it… I’m sure she’s around here somewhere.”

“No! Mon painting… she was one of a kind…” he sighed dejectedly, “I, Arthur Tiste, must find new inspiration for a new masterpiece…!”

Now that money, and a fix-it, had been rejected, NJ felt like she’d done all she could, and was promptly trying to sneak away whilst Mr Tiste mourned his ding artwork.

But then the door burst open. And an Ugweed bounded in.

*****

Keep tuned people :D

NJ - Dark Angel

 

OK! Well, for now, to start with, I'll give yous this picture to marvel at. It is the one i drew for our dear friend NJ's Birthday a few months ago. Enjoy!

Nortandeen

*bows*

Hello one and all. Been meaning to do this for a while now...But welcome to this blog, which i named Norstandeen :)

This will be my world to put what i want; what's on my mind, artwork, stories, anything and everything will crop up here when i need a little corner of the world to express myself...

To those who've known me for a while, i guess this is also in an effort to be more in touch with you guys. I am so sorry, but as we get older, life starts taking up more and more of your time. I even got a part time job at Maplin which takes up even MORE of my time.

But rest assured, Norstandeen is dedicated to you guys :)

Rachel out for now guys! Up date from me will be posted soon!