It Takes Time I know that I haven't been active on here recently, but as all good writers know, it takes time. I can't exactly magic a #poem or a story out of thin air, it takes time, and it takes thought. Sure I could just post a #quote or something, but that's really not the point. The point of Opuss is to write, read, review and share. Whatever I post, I want it to come from me, it has to be original. Because let's face it, all the best content is. So when you think I've been away too long, keep in mind I haven't forgotten you, I'm just working on something for you to read! I put 100% into my work, and take pride in the fact that I write it. It came from my mind, from my own thoughts. Not that of some one else's...Thank you for reading, and I hope you have a good day. You'll hear more of me in the future! -L

The War Rages On I've started a war poetry topic in my english lessons, this is just a little something inspired by the lesson we had today.Do enjoy!-L It doesn't matter who I am or where I am from, I am a soldier, and the war rages on. Too much time, and too much noise, I shouldn't be here, it wasn't by choice. I push and I push, but my body rebels, I can't carry on, do I hear those bells? All by myself, I just won't make friends, And there's nothig to do when silence descends. Nothing fills the hours; there's so much time, I make countless songs and rhyme upon rhyme, I sing of home, of being safe and warm, Not wet and and cold, miserable and torn. My mind is a wreck and head-deep in soil, I just want to be free, away from emotional turmoil, But it's not going to happen, we drive on and we fight, The orders are given, though we know it's not right. Guns fill the air and we need to be brave, But then a comrad falls, one we can't save. The pain in our head is so big and so great, But it must be ignored, so not so seal my fate. We're all the same in the pit of despair, My soul has been taken, it's just not fair. But it doesn't matter who I am, or where I am from, I am a soldier...And the war rages on.

The Hunger Games Okay, so after mulitple friends nagging me to see the Hunger Games, I kind of gave in. It didn't really look like something I would watch, and the books that come before films are usually better. Henceforth, I decided to give the books a go and maybe watch the film if i liked them. I have to tell you, I read the the whole trilogy within 2days. Now that's what I call a dedicated reader! I did end up liking the books, but I just didn't feel that oomph you feel when you read a last book in a series, and know you'll never meet those characters again. There was just nothing. I thought they were good, but the ending left a lot to be desired. So after reading them, I'm not really in a rush to see it in cinema, I think I'll just wait for the dvd to come out...what about anybody else out there? How did you feel when you read the books/how do you feel if you're still reading them?-L

Lazy Summer Days To go with my Winter #poem, I have a Summer one, anybody wishing it could just be Summer now?! I am, and this #poem reflects all we love about it.-L The golden sun gently throwing it's rays, Never giving up on these lazy summer days, The blue green sea, lapping the shore, The seagulls in the sky, how high they soar. A lone bee buzzes past, hear the hum of it's wings, In the early morning the cockral sings, A tree caught in the wind, slowly sways, This is the gift, of lazy summer days. The grass so soft, under bare feet, Warm to the touch, in todays heat, A butterfly dances, and in the air it plays, Enjoying the gift, of lazy summer days. No clouds are visible, in the clear blue sky, The backdrop of the sea, is pleasing to the eye, The boats Gently rocking, in many of the bays, Where would we be withought lazy summer days? The barbeques fired up, for an evening of fun, Friends and family, gathered in the sun, This is summer and these are our ways, It's how we spend, all those lazy summer days.

The Graveyard The remainding few had just left, following the grieving family back to their home. This left the boy by himself in the cemetary. He stared at the gravestones, tracing the writing on one whilst muttering to himself. A slight wind picked up, whispering through the trees and rushing through the flowers, but apart from this, all was peacefull. The boy stopped what he was doing, taking a minute to admire the beauty surrounding him. The colourfull flowers, bringing #life back in to the bleak place, the fresh untrampled grass, and the gravestones stood row upon row. He listend to the sounds around him, but he could hear nothing, just the solem silence of death itself. He then turned his attention back to the gravestone, and stood for a few more minutes, staring hard at the elegant script upon the grave. The boy gave a deep sigh, and not knowing what to do, just simply sat on the grass; nobody would be looking for him anytime soon, and this made him sad. He gave the grave one last look and closed his eyes in serenity. With a sad lonely smile, he faded away, into nothing. As always, a writer loves to know what their audience thinks. I wrote this a while back for part of my english project, but alas it never got used. Thanks for looking!-L