Articles written by T.Hemsath

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About me - T.Hemsath

I am an high school English teacher as well as an amateur writer and artist. I live in San Diego County with my husband and two sons. . I would like to one day publish my memoirs into a collection, so I would appreciate feedback on how to make my stories

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Creative Writing > Memoirs Memoirs: Life: 7 of 157

If I could have saved every tear drop my loved ones or I have ever shed in this life, I would have many stories. Whenever I would want to write, I'd dip my hand in my bucket of collected tears and pull out a drop of the salty, wet liquid on my forefinger and say, "ah yes, that was a good story." Some stories would be comical...
Creative Writing > Poetry Poetry: Night life: 1 of 17

I stare with widened black pupils into the mirage of smiles, cuddles, and voices that echo around me I love them all and they, love me back we dance to celebrate our newly joined dreams one puts her soft painted hands on my shoulders, two thumbs penetrate the back of my neck eight sisters brace my collarbone No more thinking...
Creative Writing > Memoirs Memoirs: Growing up: 7 of 66

She was my best friend from third grade through sixth. I wanted to be her because she had nicer clothes and fewer rules to abide by. She got to stay up until 10:30 on school nights when I had to go to bed at 8. She got to watch rated R movies and I was limited to PG. She started puberty before me. I remember how jealous I fe...
Creative Writing > Poetry Poetry: Drug addiction: 106 of 277

This is my poem to you, little brother The first poem; the last poem. The poem that says I don't want to cry for you. You, with your pocket full of white rock And your lungs filled with Meth and THC You, whom we tried so hard to save. But you, who didn't seem to want it. Is it that you don't love yourself? Trading a skeleton...
Creative Writing > Poetry Poetry: Rage: 70 of 175

This is my rage poem In memory of the time in my life when all I wanted to do was turn up Alanis Morissette or Courtney Love and scream. This is my rage poem To the tough girls in Alta Loma who tormented me from sixth grade through grad night. I will not write any names-You know who you are. This is my rage poem To the man I...
Creative Writing > Poetry Poetry: Wedding night: 4 of 10

night. the rain drops dancing on the roof and window sound like grains of rice spilling off the metallic edge of a steel drum, its lulling sound blends with the sound of you and I breathing, dancing too under the sheets to the song of our discovery. you-this great terrain of mountain and me-your quiet valley
Creative Writing > Reflections Reflections: The Barrio: 1 of 1

Kanan and I take a walk through the barrio every morning and every late afternoon. The first one starts around 7:30 A.M when the marine layer hasn't yet burned off-giving the summer morning a cooler feel. I wear Kanan in a sling for these walks to make it a bit cozier. Together we smell the moist salty air and feel the cool ...
Creative Writing > Memoirs Memoirs: My father: 86 of 140

During a short time in my childhood I lived with my father in his mother's house. He and my mother were going through a divorce at this time and to be honest, I'm not quite sure I lived with him during this time. Nonetheless, he painted with my grandfather during the day while I ran around my grandmothers house, playing make...
Creative Writing > Humor Humor: Childhood memories: 72 of 111

As children, my sister and I used to play with Barbie dolls all the time. Barbie dolls were what we asked for every birthday and Christmas; they were the first thing we bought when we had money; and they were the first thing we ran to when our mother took us to Target or Kmart to shop. And through the years of loving Barbie ...
Creative Writing > Reflections Reflections: Childhood memories: 96 of 135

I sit here on this rainy afternoon, smelling the wet cement outside my classroom door, looking down at my hot chocolate sitting in my coffee mug. I take a sip and feel the sugar crystals melting in my mouth and a mild nostalgia takes over me-bittersweet. I am reminded of my youth in San Bernardino County. It was during the y...