Articles written by Ascen Arriazu

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About me - Ascen Arriazu

My name is Ascen Arriazu. I'm a new mum, poet, teacher, journalist and writer and not exactly in that order. I am also a wife, a sister, a daughter and a friend, and those are my viruses at the moment.

I am here to see if I can give some sense to my dreams.

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Creative Writing > Short Stories Short stories: Teenagers: 1 of 37
Marina's world The snow was covering the fields and a white blanket had fallen over the tips of the mountain. The Gran Sasso had always marked the limits of Marina's horizon and the four seasons timed her nine years of age with a colourful accuracy. In a town where life was so monotonous, the arrival of the soldiers had been... More..
Creative Writing > Poetry Poetry: Family conflict: 9 of 56
Dear dad ( again!) I understand dad now With his powerful hand, Arms of love and Not knowing where to go. I understand his fear. Two lives coming after him Asking for support, Label clothes and answers He felt unable to give. I understand his plans To live life through us, Never thought about a " no!" " Dad I want to live on... More..
Creative Writing > Short Stories Short stories: Fantasy: 144 of 583
The Lamia from Bertiz Aintzira took some herbs from the forest and looked for a big white stone. She knew very well the magic laws: if she drew a portrait of herself dressed in a wedding dress and holding her lover's hand, the Adur would make it real. The Adur is the power of the representations. It is not enough to simply n... More..
Arts & Humanities > Dance Education Short stories: Ballroom dance lessons: 2 of 8
It was the year 1997 and when we decided we were getting married, I insisted it should be in my country. I could not imaging it any where else and as Mike didn't mind much of traditions, he immediately said he would go along with whatever I said. We prepared the dress, the hotel, the invitations... I explained to him the cus... More..
Creative Writing > Essays Essays: Childhood: 11 of 40
Now that I am a mother myself, I can understand many of the things I went through as a child. The time when my mother had to go to hospital and I spent the night with a terrible toothache. Auntie and Granny didn't know what was wrong with me and I only wanted mummy! How many times I thought of it later, of their lack of unde... More..
Business > Advertising Ways to keep personal information from being exposed on the Internet: 1 of 3
How can we keep our personal information off the Internet? Very simple: we can't! It is totally impossible! Nowadays even the most remote places have access to Internet, the only way of being part of todays' history. We need to be connected as much as we need to feed our body for survival. I heard of a friend who was working... More..
Creative Writing > Poetry Poetry: Abstract poems: 198 of 576
The creature - " I'm you and you are me. I'm here, I exist." - " Who is real? Is it you or is it me?" - " I'm me, don't argue, shut up!" - " So sad... so shy... but I'm me" - " Who is real? You or me?" - " Say so, so exist you shut up! I'm me in you" - " you are not; just I am!" - " Who is it? Sad and shy? Or me miming you? ... More..
Creative Writing > Poetry Poetry: Life: 468 of 1201
Moving I move and take my things Which follow me: Some books, some clothes And papers, many papers. I move house and country, My belongings follow me: A picture with its pink frame, Two plates, three spoons And papers, many papers. I run around and change beds, My treasures with me: A ginger lazy cat, A lovely resigned husba... More..
Arts & Humanities > Arts & Humanities (Other) Assessing whether all people are born artists: 4 of 10
A child is born naked, with nothing in his/her hands, and still full of potential for getting whatever he or she wants to achieve. From her cot the baby's eyes look curious around the room and her mind is a sponge ready absorve every single detail of her new exciting life. After the first days, babies start becoming the drea... More..
Creative Writing > Poetry Poetry: Emotional baggage: 31 of 75
The Madonna of Atocha The Madonna of Atocha is black, she holds the baby, in a cold, maternal manner, as if she had been born to be a virgin mother. The Madonna of Atocha has white widely open eyes, she looks ahead, in a cold, spooky manner, as if she had been made to be a mourning mother. The black Madonna stands still, unc... More..