Dempsey Quartermaine
Bio
Stories (10/0)
Wounds That Heal
I admire scars, they each own a story, an insight into past you were not present for - if belonging to another. Our bodies are a canvas for life to draw on and our scars are proof of wounds that have healed. Sometimes the story that follows our scars are fun, sometimes scary and others just dumb luck however they prove resilience of the body.
By Dempsey Quartermaineabout a year ago in Poets
Clouds Nostrils
The dark holes that ignite the scents of life rest calmly on the face of Cloud, these tunnels of black allow a simple breath to pass through in and out, in and out but, Sometimes these breaths aren't so simple. They are a deep tunnel of air flowing in to catch a smell whether it be sweet maybe not so pleasant other times they are not so simple breaths when they are filled with fear, desperation and even lust.
By Dempsey Quartermaineabout a year ago in Poets
Time
Time. Time is so very interesting isn't it? It zooms past in the moments you want to last and dances oh so slowly in the moments you can't bear to wait. But, it doesn't really change it's pace does it?, a minute will always be sixty seconds, an hour sixty minutes and a day twenty-four hours so, how is it that hours can feel like seconds and seconds like hours? When we stop and think about time that's when it plays it's tricks on us.
By Dempsey Quartermaineabout a year ago in Poets
Isolation
Isolation. No not covid. The isolation you feel in your head. Surrounded by people but all alone, where you want to talk but the bubble that holds you captive just will not allow. The questioning in your mind. It is a scary place your mind. All the ticking time bombs. Tick. Tick. Like the beating heart in your chest you can only feel it but can not share. Every path is a closed door like the the path that is within. You can feel your soul screaming on the inside but all the you show is a simple smile to divert the viewers. This bubble does not want to pop though your mind wants to escape and all you can do is let it tick.
By Dempsey Quartermaine2 years ago in Poets
Our Spot
Jetson, a Maltese Poodle ran his way into my life when I was just 10 years old. This was a big year for me as a 10 year old girl I had just moved schools and moved house it was exciting but, what more exciting than a new best friend! and that is exactly what he became!
By Dempsey Quartermaine2 years ago in Journal
Guardian Angel
Standing here at the edge of life and death. It is hard getting to this point I just do not know where I am with my self. Nothing seems to bring that spark that golden spark we humans call being happy. I remember what it feels like but, there is only so many pills and potions you can pump into yourself until the darkness comes creeping back to slap you hard in the face with reality.
By Dempsey Quartermaine2 years ago in Fiction