100 WC – Sandwich Battery Energetic White Hurried

I looked over my shoulder in class, annoyed by the noise behind me to see an energetic boy with spiky, white hair. He grinned at me mischievously. I hurried to snap my head back around, embarrased to be caught staring at this obnoxious boy. He started to scream loudly making me look back again, this time with a horrified look on my face.

“What is your problem?” I snapped.

He gulped loudly then stared at me with wide eyes.

“My battery on my phone is at 10%!”

“Why do you even have a phone? We’re in class!”

100 WC – Challenging Death

A true warrior isn’t afraid of Death. Instead they challenge it.

Camila runs, she fights, she climbs, and she does whatever she pleases.

And no one can stop her. Not even death.


It was a cloudy night. The sky was dark, but hidden by ominous grey clouds watching everything below them.

Camila stood on the top of her mountain. An old tree, becoming slippery as buckets of rain fell.

Her foot slipped suddenly and she fell far down.

She knew death was waiting for her, but she refused, and landed with her life and a broken leg. Death waited for her below, but couldn’t do anything as she limped away.

100 WC – Bottles of Blue

Bottles of Blue.

For me it stays, tucked inside me

until I let it out.

But where would we hide it all?


For me, I let it out.

When I tell you 

My Bottle of Blue, turns…

a bit greener.



When you keep your Bottle tucked inside,

it grows.





When you let it out

it shrinks





Come back




But when it does,


You can keep it


Or let it go

But you’ll always have a Bottle of Blue


Or weak…



Poem #3 Personification

5 things about the bug 🐜:

He darts under and over wooden panels. He hides from the boulder that is your hand.

He is the vampire of day and night, whom no one fears.

A rockclimber crawling up the smooth tan mountain of skin.

He is a fearless warrior, charging into battle, despite knowing the consequences.

Obnoxious yet persistent, determined for success.

Poem #2 Imagery

Home in my memory:

In my mind, I ask, what’s real and what’s not?

In my memory, the surroundings shift with time.

In my memory, with a flick of a switch, it floods in, the bright light letting me see.

In my mind I ask: What’s still real and what’s not. I beg it wouldn’t change with time. But it does.

In my life, I feel confused, amd I happy or sad? Angry? Or have the emotions not settled in yet?

Carpets and rough celings stay unshifted in my mind and I can still remeber the touch.

In my mind I ask, for the blurry memories what’s still real and what’s not?

By Brynn 🙂

(If you want to comment on the poem, I would really like feedback and your interpretations)


Poem #1 – I am the…

I am the strangr who you’ve only seen once passing you on the street, looking down timidly at my feet.

I am the cousin you barley know, regretting the times I barey adressed you.

I am the student who tries my hardest no matter how many times I seem to fall.

I am the friend you trust with your secrets, agreeing to give mine in return.

I am the daughter who you’ve watched grow, finally blooming from a seed to a flower.

I am Brynn.

100 WC – flame, swimming, celebrated, white, tomorrow

I watch the flames lick the house. The heat is unberable, I step back.

I watch them swimming and dance. Elegant dancer of destruction.

I watch them cover all of it, burning brown wood black. My white house will be black.

Colours. Red, Orange, Yellow, White.

Fear, I look forward to tomorrow when it will be over, celebrated. 

Cries, they are all around me. I hug my Mother and we fear together. We hope together and we look forward to tomorrow together.

Patience. We will wait and wait until they come.

I watch the flames lick the house.

100 WC – Locked out

As the door slammed, I knew she was gone. I pounded on the door as hard as I could. My knuckles started to bleed as they scraped the wood. “Come back!” I screamed, but I could hear the footsteps becoming more faint. “Come back! I’m sorry! Let me out.” The footsteps grew louder, coming towards me, and for a second, I thought she was going to let me out.

“You’re an evil witch,” I heard her young voice sneer. “Why would I let you out?

“I’m sorry!” But it was too late, she walked away laughing.

100 WC – Fake monster

The trap looked perfect. The legs and boots stuck up in the water like a real person. I stay still, lurking in water, like an aligator. Leaves crunch, my cue to peek up out of the water. A little boy comes up and screams, laying eyes on the trap. I grin, my mouth emerged in murky water. He runs up to the trap and looks down. Instantly I pop out and pull him into the water with me. The shriek seems loud enough to make me deaf, but I ignore it as I pull him back up, now soaked with water, laughing.

“James!” He whines.

100 WC – Tattered Yellow Parchment

I hold it close to my chest, hugging the tattere yellow parchment like a teddy bear belonging to a three year old. Just holding it brings me into it’s exsisting world of magic. Magic that feels so mystical it feels fake when it’s not.  I bring it back up to my face, examining it closely for the hundreth time like I’ve never seem anything like it before. I feel slightly cheesy, as if I’m in a book staring at a simple object that gives me so many memories and hopes for the future.