Collection of Works, Original


Collected Works, Vol. 1
The Collected Works of Nicholas Cottrell

Disclaimer and Copyright Notice:
All works within are copyrighted to Nicholas Cottrell, hereafter known as "the author".
Unauthorized copying is prohibited. Each reader is authorized to make five (5) copies and
distribute them in any manner as long as profit is not gained.
This contains subject matter that you may find disturbing or inappropriate. Please do not read
it if you think you may become offended.

Table of Contents:
0. Introduction
1. "Spring" - The one romance poem in here.
2. "Spiral\'s End" - a poem of revenge
3. "Of Teenage Sorrow" - A short story
4. "Nomad" - loneliness in writing
5. "Frat Boys" - anti-drinking
6. "Reflected Waves" - a poem of surprise at oneself
7. "Phoenix" - a poem of redemption
8. "My Friend In Misery: An Ode to Missa" - a poem of thanks
9. "Bleeding" - a poem of being drained
10. "Observations of Corporations" - A partial view of life.
11. "Fallen Hero" - Read the disclaimer
12. "Singularity" - the one way out
13. "Short Views" - More views on life
Introduction

A while back, my poetry won me a statewide award. Ever since, I\'ve been pressured to make a
compilation of some of my crap and send it around to be published.

This collection is just a bunch of stuff I threw together, not much thought to it. If you like
it, tell me so! My e-mail address is [email protected], write me. I\'ll write back each and every
person by hand, I promise.

Well, on with the show, I suppose.

1. "Spring"
A rose with gentle petals
in the garden grows
amongst the weeds

Love, like the rose
thrives in life\'s turmoils
like the carefully planted seed

- Nicholas Cottrell

2. "Spiral\'s End"

Too long have I spent
Explaining what I\'ve meant
Too long have you heard
my ominous words
Whimpering, you cry
on your knees, you die.
-Nicholas Cottrell

3. "Of Teenage Sorrow"

A child\'s cries in the night awaken the mother, who stumblingly finds her way to the crib. Is it a bottle, or a diaper change? The mother does not know. Inadequacy fills the teenage mother, and blinds her to the child\'s needs. "Rot in Hell, kid." she mutters, crawling back into a bed where a father should be but wasn\'t. The child\'s unrelenting tears force her from her nighttime reverie, abd drag her back to the nursery. "Shut up, kid!" she growls drowsily. "Don\'t you know I have school tomorrow?" But the baby does not know, and her howls fill the night. Lights come on in neighboring apartments, and shouts reach her ears.
"Shut that kid up!"
"Some of us are trying to SLEEP!"
As much as she does not know how to help her tiny child, she remembers how to defend her.
A torrent of curses and insults streams unladylike from her lips, and vanquishes the neighbor\'s
screams. Breaking into tears at her inadequacy to help her child, she drags herself to her small
refrigerator and withdraws a beer. "I just need more money... I just need more time..." she
mutters, and almost believes herself in her half-drunken state.
In the morning she awakes, seeing that the baby cried itself to sleep. Kicking over the
beer cans from the previous night, she looked at her alarm clock. Too late to go to school now.
Might as well spend time with the brat to make up for last night.
Dragging out a stroller from beneath half-eaten TV dinners and beer cans, she reflected on
the time when she still loved her child. When Stephen was with her... when she had money to
spend... when life was good. She packed the child into the stroller, and rolled out the door
and down the road to a little park.
Stopping at the pond, she threw stones into the water and watched the ripples rise. She
pondered how easy life would be without her little brat. How easy... and that pond was so deep..
and so dark.... her knuckles whitened around the stroller\'s handle. So easy...
-Nicholas Cottrell

4. "Nomad"
Across the Earth I stride,
wandering
These sands I\'m cursed to ride,
thirsting
Alone I nurture pride,
crawling
And with myself I die,
smiling.
-Nicholas Cottrell

5. "Frat Boys"

Amongst the company of others,
I find myself alone.
These men who act like brothers,
it chills me to the bone.
In salute they raise their beer cans,
(I alone stand without one)
and dub each other "Man"
thinking that getting drunk is fun.
-Nicholas Cottrell

6. "Reflected Waves"

A river flows
beneath my feet
reflection