This Is Me

I found darkness in the light. A treacle topping, Lost in sight, lost in mind, Between blood and syrup. I came to you in a vision, Convinced the world, Of my incision, Of thread between your heart strings. I smiled soundly, with a curse, Displaying nothing, Except a verse, Within a desperate world of greed, I saw you sink, Onto your knees. Eyes, penetrating silent skull, I saw you scream, I saw you mull, Upon your mind, I saw you find, A non existent, existence Of mine. Lightning sharp upon a floor, Of bones and lacking, Strength anymore, A beat of drums I see you sink, I turn to you, With a wink. Goodbye my child. I hear you sing. A last verse, For immortal king. Boneata Bell 30/12/2012

I can hear you when I close my eyes, See the terror in your smile, See you walk the shortest mile, To the house you called a home. I hear you when you say my name, See the ink of my unknown fame, Across your chest you bare my mark, I see a rose, I hear a lark, I can hear you when you feel pain, A lioness, I am now tame. I see you crawl, towards the night, I see your constant angry fight. I hear you when you banish me, See the man you used to be. I watch you drop onto the floor, But you don't see me anymore. I can hear the heart of thumping rhyme, Count the ticking clock of time, I call your name to the sky, Wonder if my heart can fly. I turn and walk, The other way. Knowing, I am here to stay. As I watch you die. Boneata Bell 29/12/2012 

The rose, deep red, Soft petals, Thorns, All as expected. Given as a gift, Received as a sin, Two hearts, torn within, One gesture. The chocolate box. Ribbon tied, soft brown, Expensive. Thornton's . As expected. Given with a tear, Received with a beer. Dismissed with a grin. The teddy bear. Huggable, Soft white, Company. All as expected. Given with thought, previously sought. Yet rejected. The final ring, Engagement. Beautiful. Eternity. Lost, as expected. Given with greed, Water for seed, Previously real. Now it's over. Boneata Bell 29/12/2012  

So here it is. I had known this man for seven days previous. He was. Is. Handsome. Tanned. Dark hair, dark eyes. Tall. And older than me. Much older than me. Heaven in a cup basically. I met him on holiday, on a small island. A family island. I don't like touristy holidays. I ignored him. As simple as that. I wasn't looking for a man, and quite frankly I was sick of the 'fake' attention. On holiday they are interested in every walking breathing female that passes. But my step-father noticed this one. Celebrity look alike. I shouldn't have pointed him out really, but I did, and my father was obsessed, like a bee to honey. With that he insisted I have my photo taken with him. I refused. I probably looked like a stuck up young British woman. I didn't care. I have never wanted a phony man. The next day we met him again, my step father is a rather friendly chap, so my mum, myself and this male ended up talking. My step father, as he always does, mentioned his fis

Do you believe in me? In the air that I breathe, And the breath in my lungs? And the person I be, The blood inside me? Do you believe in her? Or the person she be? The path that she walked, In comparisson to me? When you let me walk free. Do you believe, in the battle we fought, The lessons we taught, Or the reason for life During moment of death, When you pushed me afar. And you whipped out my breath. Do you believe that you stood at my side, With an air of pride or An air of detest? Did I put you to test, Or put you to misery? Do you believe as you lie In her bed, Pictures run through my head, Of the force and the punishment. Do you believe, in the past or the present, You lie in her bed As client and pheasant. Do you believe in everything- nothing Sight and sound, Of nightmare and dream. You ran but you fled. From my heart, From my bed. From my dream From my scream, And My Nightmare. Boneata Bell. 15/12/2012

During Blood Donation I am in the waiting area with my mum, and it is full of these stern looking faces. I want to turn and run - there is no denying it. I can feel the sicking feeling in my gut of dread, I can see bags of blood in various positions across the room. Some people are sat, some are laid. Nobody has passed out yet. Mum is talking to her friend, and all I can think about is where the nearest toilet is; with my nerves I have given myself bladder weakness. There are biscuits on the tables. They send me home and request that I eat something more. I am not happy. I don't want to go back. I want to wimp out here and now. Yet, I return. They call my name, test my finger for anaemia. I am about to turn and run when before I know it she has stuck this thing in my finger and told me that I am not anaemic. Step one over. And I'm smiling to myself. I have done it. I am one step closer to facing my fear. To saving a life. Soon, within ten minutes, I am lying on the

So, you guessed it from the title right? Why would somebody with a HUGE phobia of needles chose to give blood? Well this is how it goes. I am a student. I have no money to give to those in need, but I have blood that could save lives. So why should I let my selfish phobia get in the way? One day a couple of weeks ago I spontaneously decided I would face my fear and give blood. That was it; that night I registered to give blood. No further questions asked. And there I was today at the nearest donation site. Here is my diary of the night before, and then the actual day. Follow my journey on a quest to make a difference. The Night Before Donation. Tomorrow I shall give blood. I have a phobia of needles. A big phobia. But I want to save lives. I do not have money to give to those in need, but I do have blood that can be used to help to save somebody’s life. So, last week I decided, against all odds I will face my fear, and I will do something to help somebody else. Tomorrow aft

It was in the year of 2009, at the tiny age of fourteen that adventurous teenager Za’e Johnson began her experience in New York City. It was April, and the very beginning of five days in paradise despite the dramatic changes in weather, (almost every season was experienced in one day) each day saw sun and rain, showers and clouds, it was very dramatic! The five days were spent among friends, (classmates) and two teachers. The city was bliss. Throughout the day the scenery and experiences were amazing and throughout the night they were deeply haunting, scary yet so magical! New York City was quickly becoming a place that Za’e believed to only exist in dreams. It was becoming a place in which over the years she would long to return to… Whilst visiting various shopping centres (as every girl must in New York!) she purchased an MTV T-shirt, worn for very many occasions and treasured until this very day, as well as many trinkets of all shapes and sizes. There she met a sales assist

I was selected to be a Young Reporter with Young People Support Service in September 2012 until October 2012. I loved every minute of it and had the privilege of writing four columns for the Grimsby Telegraph. The experience was amazing and although by the end of it, things became difficult regarding finding topics to write about I do believe that if I had the privilege of writing for them every single week I would make sure that I managed to find something interesting and entertaining to write about.   The goal of the experience is to give young people the chance to challenge the stereotype that is given to young people these days. People are too quick to jump to conclusions reguarding drug addiction, violence, sexual assault, bullying, you name it the blame is given to our younger generation.   I applied for the position on two occasions and was given it on the second; I was eager not to give up when I was unsuccessful the first time, It was just something that was

If you are a writer, and you have not heard of National Novel Writing Month , you have been living in a bubble. This month I am taking part, along with many countries all over the world, in a one month writing spree and the aim is to reach 50,000 words in one month. I am finding it difficult because I made the mistake of choosing a subject, and storyline that requires a lot of research - I know already within one week of beginning that I should have chosen a topic that I already know well. But, never mind, it will be harder but it will be worth it because it is a story that I have been wanting to write for ages now, I needed the push to begin. NaNoWriMo was the big push - a very big push indeed. I have been concerned because at times my word count has been falling below the average amount of words that other people are reaching, but I am going at my own pace and I have started too fall nicely in line with everybody else. It is day eight today, and people are hitting an average

The sky was grey, with raindrops pouring from the sky upon three smiling faces. We had dressed appropriately for the day; I wore a large silver coat with extra padding and a hood, while each of my parents supported warm gloves and scarves. I was the age of nine. The castle in the near distance was as magical as my imagination could have allowed itself to believe, the pale pink towering building loomed towards the sky, it was the tallest thing that I had ever seen. Paris. Disneyland Paris. A place of magic. The three of us posed dramatically for a photograph, the scenery of Christmas presents and snow surrounding us. It amazed me how there was pure white snow on the floor, yet I had not seen one snowflake fall from the sky! It added to the glittering magic of the atmosphere. The tall amazing figures of my parents were looking down at me. I looked up and smiled at the authoritative figures, and I was mesmerised. Stain glass windows outlined the castle; the windows replaying froz

Learning to love something other than yourself. This is my Yorkshire Terrier, Tammie. She became a part of my life nearly eight years ago now, a Christmas present that changed my life. The bond between an animal and its owner is unbreakable. Recently I have lost friends, boyfriends and even family members. I have been let down and walked all over, but she is still here. She is the bark that greets me in the morning, the howl that wakes me through the night, and the unavoidable sloppy kiss in the afternoon. She is the picture of commitment and obidience. She is real, compared to the fake circle of friends and family that surround me. Animals are warmth and fire in the heart, they are the only thing that you can guarentee. The only friendship that you can guarentee. The bond between an animal and a human is unbreakable. I am a volunteer at the RSPCA Animal Charity and I am making a plea to the general public to save an animal. If you suspect anybody of mis-treating an animal repor

It is approaching that time of year again in England that one cannot yet avoid, currently living under the employment status of 'University student' I am unable to avoid the approaching winter weather which I detest. Yet, on the subject of winter I am haunted by beautiful memories of previous years; the smell of fireworks on bonfire night, the picture of the warm fire crackling on Christmas day - whilst presents lie helplessly underneath the Christmas tree, and of course the quickly approaching Halloween. Automatically I in-vision a picture of sweets resting on the tray, gloves warming the frosted hands of happy children, therefore I do suppose Autumn and winter are not always as depressing as they may seem. I do not like these seasons simply because of the cold that accompany them, yet I love my home comforts, the very things I imagine when I picture my setting. My home comforts are usually associated with warmth, I picture my Christmas with the fire burning, candles l

Young Reporter: Don’t get spooked by festival celebrations Saturday, October 13, 2012 Grimsby Telegraph By Boneata Bell IS HALLOWEEN a trick, or a treat? The annual event is approaching, resulting in much excitement across the country, (and even across the world). This October we will see the celebration of Halloween and the smiles that will grace the faces of many children. Sadly, too, however, the damage to properties and vehicles that accompany these celebrations. There is a 150 per cent rise in house damage during the week between Halloween and Bonfire Night, according to ten years of statistics from insurance company Aviva. The reason for this? Darker nights and evening entertainment make it much easier for criminals to work in the shadows of the occasion. So, not surprisingly, Halloween and other festivals give way to many stereotyping opportunities and that is where I come in. To wrongly accuse can carry dramatic and devastating consequences. Before making a

The day was eventful, as any day be on holiday, but the true adventure did not begin until the evening. There is something tormenting about foreign nights, they cannot be replicated or imagined, they can only be witnessed. The scent in the air was one of warmth, spice and life. Treacle in the lungs and heat in the heart. I travelled to a place of belonging, to a country lacking in variety yet drowning in beauty, the mountains were of dangerous height, the sun of dangerous heat, yet the country held a posture of magic, and air of faith. Turkey. A country so strong in religion and silent power, there I met a host who would guide me to the traditional clubs and bars of Turkey. An experience of much delight. Very quickly I was lost within the sounds of Turkish voices, rhythmically speaking to the beat of Turkish instrumental. I did not need to understand the language to understand the emotion of each song. In this bar a circle of strangers gathered to dance and express their devote

This is a recent completed task for my University course. I am currently studying Professional Writing and hope that this is what my future career will bring. This task is the journey of something becoming another. If you wish to hazard a guess, I will leave the answer clearly at the bottom of this post. Good luck and enjoy!  - BEGIN - Dreams were something that I only believed in, a destiny deciphered only by the hand of God, to those of religion and commitment, not something that could happen to me. Something so ordinary, something so natural and necessary. Yet this morning, I was taken away. It was a shelter that I previously found myself living upon. A shelter for objects of different colour, different size and different background. The shelter became a refuge for the new, the old and on rare occasions, the ancient. It was the Ancients that I fled, in every possible circumstance they would place me at the base of this Ancient, and leave me there for minutes at a time. They i

It is the third week of University life. As with any new emotional and educational change I have been accompanied by a headache for approximately two weeks. The biggest change that I have noticed is the difference in teaching methods between Further Education and Higher Education. Every so often I am expecting to be told to get on with my work, or to go away and carry out private research, yet I am not. With no exaggeration University is about lectures, hours and hours of lectures, followed by my arrival home where I am ready to begin any work that I have been set, which is currently two hours of writing per night - simply to improve my writing, my ideas and my skills, not yet for a set assignment. My first assignment is due in on teaching week six, so I have three weeks left. Each assignment must be bound and correctly presented, using the house style that the University requires, and the guidelines that they have set. I have noticed very severely that the use of the 'Harvard R

It began in the trees. Every time the wind blew, I could hear his name being whispered on the tips of the mountain tops, beckoning me. It continued throughout the morning; the smell of foreign foods cooking delicately in the sun, with no people to disturb the atmosphere, and no rain to wash away the stains. It continued throughout the afternoon. The music shouting at me. Piercing the dreams in my head with pictures in my heart. Tea warming slightly on the pine-layered table. Smiles shadowing faces of strangers with faces of love. Into the night... It continued. Bodies pressed against one another in shy disruption. Tears aching the face showing happiness and frustration. It continued. Tired faces, tired eyes. Hand in hand. The music still hinders me. It finished during the night. The car pulled up and disgraced the scene of beauty; for before me stood an angel. Embraced. Caressed. Continued. Left. It finished, online with dreams and dilemmas. To follow, or to flee. Come to me

Seni Ozledim. I miss you. The crazy smile that You placed on my face. The struggled walk in high heeled pace. Seni Ozledim. I miss you. The music and madness fighting for air, Drunken rabble, hijackers beware. The single tear. The single tare. Seni Ozledim. I miss you. The sun by the sea, The hand waving at me, Seni Ozledim, benim askim. perfection thanking. You. Seni Ozledim. I miss you. Thousands of paths ready to walk, Love being a bolder never taught. Wished away, Wished closer. Confused array Of emotion mixed. Entwined by his. Seni Ozledim. I miss you. Boneata Bell 26th August 2012 18

The bike. A journey between two people, And time. In a place of mine. Between two junctions. The bike. Speeding head first across An ocean view. Time spent in two. Time too quickly speeding. The bike. Black metalic and hot to touch, Scarring skin pebbles and rocks A view of perfecion. The bike. A holiday perfection, Within my reflection. A smile of The eyes. And a smile Of the heart. Boneata Bell 14:42 26th August 2012 18

I once had a layout about my life, that I knew that I would live by. I decided that what I wanted to be was a journalist and what I would study would be journalism. Things changed for me. I began working at Estuary Radio twenty-one weeks ago and it offered me so many opportunities, so now I could be a presenter, a journalist and of course the ultimate dream, a poet. Within the twenty-one weeks things have changed dramatically. Last week I received the phone call breaking to me the news of my course closure, leaving me with two options; fly or fall. This was where I could either 'drop' the idea of University and get a job, or take on the ultimately scary challenge of another course - Professional Writing. Now that does sound silly. I am a writer. I write poetry and articles every day of my life, but I am not yet a novelist. I do not have an extremely high knowledge of the English language. I break the rules where the lines are drawn - I will put a metaphor next to a simile,

This is a very personal blog. A blog that reflects the opinions of oneself only. It is a blog that is willing to challenge, but this post in particular is the post that is willing to announce my biggest secret. It is not a secret that I have purposely kept hidden in the depths of my closet, but it is in fact a secret that I just do not share with the world. Until now of course. That secret is weight obsession. You cannot put me into a bracket; I am not anorexic, I am not obese, I am not bulimic but I am living with the constant fight for curves. It began long before I can remember. My household has always possessed a set of scales, and I have weighed myself every day for as long as I can ever remember. I mean that quite literally. I felt that I was over weight throughout Primary school, Secondary school, college and no doubt in September, unless I suddenly lose a great amount of weight, I will feel fat throughout University. So is this Media influence? Maybe. I may well be anoth

You may be the air that I breathe and the contents Of my heart. You may be the Presence in my vains and the dreams that won't part in the Presence of life and the prensence of death you may Be the one who will carry my vest in The darkness of light and the Darkness of fight you May be the one who will fall In the flight. You may be the rainbow Covered by glitter and sparkceling Veins will blister and glisten, you May be the horse with the Horn for a head, you may be the One who has tortured the dead you Are the one who disrupted my voice Without choice, without option you came Through the doors of my life. Without option you entered The world Of your Wife. And your life. Without dream, without option. Boneata Bell Copyright 2012 31/07/2012

Promises I can not keep, Social skills I do not seek, But do not use... Nor care to lose The embers of my heart. Wishes that I can not see, Nightmares that myself set free, I do not seek, Nor care to seek The distance of your smile. Decisions that I can not make, Moral values at such stake, I do not send, Nor care to send, The chances of my world. Witnesses that care to view, The world in all but very few, I do not see, Nor care to see, The evil in humanity. By Boneata Bell. 31.07.12 Copyright 2012

Human beings shock me. It does not matter to me how many times I watch the television, or listen to the radio or even leave my front door to the sounds of shouting and violence; I still can never believe what it is that I am seeing. I would never harm another human being. I just couldn't. It isn't in my blood, it isn't in my heart and it certainly isn't in my brain and it seems that the learning facilities of my brain can not and will not except the concept of vicious human beings. Try if you will to explain your violent mind to me, but I will not grasp your thoughts and feelings. People make me angry, people hurt me, people test me to the brink of snapping, but the furthest I would go would be some violent words and phrases - I would never dream of violence. Not extensive, aggressive, brutal violence that some 'people' resort too. So why do you do it? How can you do it? That is the question I ask of you. It is not for me to judge the scenario, only for

The weather is beautiful in England today, a very warm welcome it is greated with in Cleethorpes. I am currently avoiding the beach because there are so many people around that I begin to feel too closed in, besides, I have a back garden I would rather give the tourists a chance to look around without me stepping on their toes. So where is this going you ask? I have no clue I reply. This is a time where you, my readers have an opportunity to meet me, the writer inside the stories. I have so many plans for my life, this is why I am going to write them down, I do not want to forget a single plan. I know who I want to be and I know what I want to do and best of all, I know that I can do it. Two days ago I recieved a copy of my first published book. As mentioned previously a very close friend and work collegue Raven Phoenix has published, and I am privileged to be beside him as an author. Two days ago my first column was published in The Grimsby Telegraph. It was my first step in

So please have a read, share to Facebook, Tweet it, recommend it if you like it! I appreciate every share. http://www.thisisgrimsby.co.uk/Young-Reporter-8217-s-human-right-follow/story-16574015-detail/story.html Much love. X Boneata Bell

It was June 5th 2012 that I landed in my holiday destination of Turkey. And it would only be a week until I would return home. From the moment that I arrived I was greeted by smiling faces and bliss by my hotel, near the busy place of Fethiye. On my first day I din't realise that by the end of the week I would be heartbroken to leave such a beautiful country. We arrived in Turkey at approximately 6:00PM (Turkish time) they were two hours ahead of us. The accommodation was not what we expected as we had requested a balcony view, but a simple word with reception and we were moved into a room with very beautiful scenery complete with a balcony to relax on during the night and early hours. I didn't realise that there were still good people in the world, I didn't know that I could smile at somebody and receive a smile back, unlike my hometown where a smile is usually exchanged for some verbal abuse. During our seven days in Turkey we visited the Turkish mudbaths, we

Never be too quick to dismiss the intelligence of an animal. My life would be incomplete if it were not for the animals in my life that make me smile on the dullest of days. Currently I own one bird, two rabbits and two dogs. It wasn't long ago that two of my other birds died of old age. Time spent with an animal is never long enough, and it should be treasured. If you do not own an animal in my opinion your life is not complete. You have never experienced a little bird coming to the front of the cage to kiss you or a little dog trying his hardest to smile. Yes, that is the recent trick my little dog has mastered. We didn't teach him it, he is copying our body language. When we are happy with him and we are praising him he lifts up his front lips and shows us his little teeth while wagging his tail. It is floor-less. There is nothing more adorable. People (some) believe that animals do not know how to feel. In my opinion this is pure ignarance on the side of the human be

Gary A Pearson III or more commonly known as Raven Phoenix is vice President at a company specialising in games for autistic children, D3xsoft. Raven has been at this job for a number of years now after being promoted. He initially set foot within the company after being offered the job by the President of the company, also known as the Boss here in England, and he quickly became a very large influence within then work place, making his way swiftly to the top. Although the company is now suffering along with all of the workforce during the recession, initially it was very successful; the idea became a massive hit, it was a very large gap in the market place and for all of those parents against violence in video games this is the company to turn too. Mr. Pearson explained what it was about his job that he loved so much "the creative freedom, and ability to help others" certainly with a company that has such influence in America it would certainly be a privilege to work for i

It was Thursday 22nd March when I had my very first Starbucks. To my close friends this was a huge shock because it took me such a long time to experience this delight. On arriving home I intended to share my 'Starbucks' experience with my parents, but was horrified that my mother had never heard of Starbucks. In my shock it slipped my mind to tell her of the importance of Starbucks, and what an importance it is in the lives of teenagers these days! So on my next 'meeting' with my mother, I sat her down and began to explain the significance of Starbucks. The shock goes on... I then went to my grandparents house and was telling them of my parent's lack of knowledge on the subject when my grandma suddenly interrupts with 'What is a Starbucks?'. It seems that my family truly are lacking in modern beauties of the world. So I have now made a pact with myself, and the team at Estuary radio after telling them of my shock, that I will be taking my mother

It is my fifth week as a radio presenter at Estuary Radio. Next Friday will be my sixth show and I have loved every minute of it. In total we have now presented for ten hours, it doesn't sound like a lot but every minute of it is enjoyable, fun and a little bit of a relief that there is actually something out there that meets my media and writing requirements! I am too demanding but I know what I want and to be honest, Estuary radio is exactly that. Since being a presenter I have made some new friends and gained lots of confidence in the studio, I even feel I could do the show alone now if necessary, to be honest the atmosphere in the studio is amazing, when people think of volunteering they feel dread and a sense of  'slave labour' but it is exactally the opposite! It is enjoyable, amazing and so exciting it is unreal! To know that I am talking to listeners and I am on my way to a career doing something that I love fills me with delight! Other members of the team h

The History of bangles – An untold meaning: Although a bangle appears to be a symbol of fashion in India, it is also a symbol of wealth and social status, from birth a child is expected to receive either a copper, silver or gold bangle, although gold is preferred copper and silver are accepted. The child is then expected to wear the bangle until they outgrow it and is then expected to keep it to pass on to their children, and them to their children. When in adult life a woman is expected to wear as many gold bangles as she owns, in England the bangle is a symbol of fashion, and maybe the weight and cost of it will represent wealth or generosity of it’s giver but is not as important as in India. If an Indian woman owns twenty bangles she is expected to wear them all, and that is how much money she has and how high she is on a social scale. The more bangles she owns the wealthier she is. During the times of slavery bangles because a form of currency, Africans began to notice h