Harriet Nicholas is 20 years old. She is a final year fashion student living in the UK.
Harriet grew up in Brunei and won numerous short story competitions there. Despite having a strong love for writing, her ambition to be a designer was far greater. She moved to the UK four years ago to do her course and is currently living with her boyfriend, Kevin.
She is also a freelance illustrator and fashion writer. [February 2004]
AUTHOR'S OTHER TITLES (7) A Model Life (Novels) Janet hates her life, hates her parents and her boyfriend isn't the ideal she'd dreamed of. She is rude, calculating and other girls hate her guts. On top of that, she's a raging nymphomaniac, incapab... [6,622 words] [Humor] Adoration Is Not Love (Poetry) A poem about . . . well, myself really and I boy I fancied when I was about thirteen! [122 words] [Mind] Guilt (Poetry) A short poem about guilt. [91 words] I Haven't Found Myself Yet (Poetry) A sad poem I wrote one night when I was feeling very, very sorry for myself . . . [100 words] [Mind] The Day You Dissapeared (Songs) A sort of country song I composed after an upsetting break with an ex-boyfriend. [217 words] The Muse Speaks To The Writer (Poetry) A poem about the determined muse within my head that urges me to keep writing! [117 words] [Mind] Turning Point (Short Stories) The thoughts of a girl in one afternoon that will change her attitude towards her social life . . . [2,270 words] [Mind]
Pretty Dancer Harriet Nicholas
She does not realise
She does not see
The talons on her pretty claws
She dances like a dream
But it is a dance for herself
A beautiful dance
To keep her happy
She builds pretty images
Unicorns
Mermaids
Faries
And elves
Others want to dance with her
This beautiful swirling dance
And all who cannot see
Those pretty claws
Are killed and trampled beneath her feet
But she still laughs
For she does not realise
She cannot see
The way she smashes
Others beliefs
She has no respect
No love to give
She is too consumed
By her pretty dance
She assumes a lot
She expects so much
When she falls
She cries
And people come running
From all sides
When they fall
And get hurt
And beg her for some love
She has no time
She must continue
To dance that lovely dance
When most of life is over and done
If she is still blind
To those pretty claws,
It is unfortunate to say
That such claws would have faded
And shrivelled up
And no admirers will line her path
She will still vainly
Try to dance
But on feet weak and weary
From years of dancing
And smashing
And trampling
But still she carries on . . .
For she does not realise
She cannot see
The talons on her faded claws . . .
READER'S REVIEWS (3) DISCLAIMER: STORYMANIA DOES NOT PROVIDE AND IS NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR REVIEWS. ALL REVIEWS ARE PROVIDED BY NON-ASSOCIATED VISITORS, REGARDLESS OF THE WAY THEY CALL THEMSELVES.
"The world is full of women/men who are ready to rip your heart out with thier smiles, until you REALIZE thier games and stop dancing to thier tune! Most of us have fallen prey to the kind of person described in your poem at least once!" -- Monte, USA.
"I like it. At my age, I frequently cross paths with those of the faded claw variety." -- Richard, OH.
"This is an excellent poem! I loved it! You have great insight" -- Wolfa.
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