Wow, the month went by so fast. Hard to believe it is the last day of April already! :)
Day Thirty Poetry:
Driving
Speeding through places unknown
scenery as distant as to you
as the other side of the Earth
hair flying from the open window
music blasting as you sing along
letting the journey pass you by
until you reach your destination
a college visit to a friend
Friday, April 30, 2010
Thursday, April 29, 2010
April 28,2010 & April 29,2010 - NaPoWriMo
Day Twenty Eight Poetry:
Sorry, I wasn't able to get to my computer yesterday to post my poem, so here it is:
Smile
That smile, so secretive
just before the curtain opens
the performance has begun
as you dance across the stage
with the colorful silk in hand
flourishing, tossing, catching
letting the audience in
to the meaning of your smile
Day Twenty Nine Poetry:
Listen
Open your ears
and listen carefully
what can you hear?
the static
from an empty CD
or the bristling
of the wind
over the blasting
of the television
do you listen?
Sorry, I wasn't able to get to my computer yesterday to post my poem, so here it is:
Smile
That smile, so secretive
just before the curtain opens
the performance has begun
as you dance across the stage
with the colorful silk in hand
flourishing, tossing, catching
letting the audience in
to the meaning of your smile
Day Twenty Nine Poetry:
Listen
Open your ears
and listen carefully
what can you hear?
the static
from an empty CD
or the bristling
of the wind
over the blasting
of the television
do you listen?
Tuesday, April 27, 2010
April 27,2010 - NaPoWriMo
Day Twenty Seven Poetry:
The Song
the lights dim
the microphone
clutched firmly
in your hands
as the first note
leaves your lips
the audience
disappears
for and instance
you are by yourself
owning the stage
until the clashing
of many hands
brings reality
crashing down
The Song
the lights dim
the microphone
clutched firmly
in your hands
as the first note
leaves your lips
the audience
disappears
for and instance
you are by yourself
owning the stage
until the clashing
of many hands
brings reality
crashing down
Monday, April 26, 2010
April 26, 2010 - NaPoWriMo
Day Twenty Six Poetry:
The Camera
Through your lens,the world fades to gray
focuses on the tiniest of details
the loose thread hanging from your jacket
the small chip of your tooth
from when you first fell off your bike
or expands to show the bigger picture
a family, brought together by sadness
the emptiness of a newly planted garden
but in either case, you make time
stand still if only for a moment
so that no one else will ever be able
to forget
The Camera
Through your lens,the world fades to gray
focuses on the tiniest of details
the loose thread hanging from your jacket
the small chip of your tooth
from when you first fell off your bike
or expands to show the bigger picture
a family, brought together by sadness
the emptiness of a newly planted garden
but in either case, you make time
stand still if only for a moment
so that no one else will ever be able
to forget
Sunday, April 25, 2010
April 25, 2010 - 5 more days of NaPoWriMo!!
Day Twenty Five Poetry:
Ode to a Broom (Revised!)
Your sturdy handle,
like the graceful arc
of a ballerina's back
as she dances with purpose
to the sensual tune
coursing through the studio.
Each movement
an extension of another
spinning, twirling,
creating circles on the floor,
a perfectly executed arabesque
followed by a grand jete.
Your tousled hair sweeps
delicately across the stage,
one coupe follows another
brushing everything else
out of its path
to dance alone once more.
You crave cleanliness,
the glistening hard wood
of a newly washed studio
so you may pirouette to a finish,
claim the spotlight one last time
before you retire with one final curtsy.
Ode to a Broom (Revised!)
Your sturdy handle,
like the graceful arc
of a ballerina's back
as she dances with purpose
to the sensual tune
coursing through the studio.
Each movement
an extension of another
spinning, twirling,
creating circles on the floor,
a perfectly executed arabesque
followed by a grand jete.
Your tousled hair sweeps
delicately across the stage,
one coupe follows another
brushing everything else
out of its path
to dance alone once more.
You crave cleanliness,
the glistening hard wood
of a newly washed studio
so you may pirouette to a finish,
claim the spotlight one last time
before you retire with one final curtsy.
Saturday, April 24, 2010
April 24, 2010 - NaPoWriMo
Day Twenty Four Poetry:
So, I decided to use a prompt for my poem today. Here is what it was based on: 8. Write to something (or someone) beautiful that is no longer here.
Your Absence
When I was younger,you were always there
bursting out of the ground with color
every time spring would come around
I would watch as you slowly grew
from the pale green leaves to stem
until I came home from school one day
and there you were in all of your beauty
with all of your friends gathered around
as a child I would play in your home
and as I grew, helped mom plant
more friends for you to play with
underground in the cold fall weather
yet, no longer do I see your crimson petals
or the sunny yellow of your comrades
for you all have been taken away from me
by beast that will be stopped by nothing
not by a fence or even by a spray
they bite off all of your heads
spitting them out to lay
a fallen monument on the grassy ground
or dig up your bulbs in colder months
so that you are no longer here
the days go by now without your presence
during your favorite time of year
and I miss you.
So, I decided to use a prompt for my poem today. Here is what it was based on: 8. Write to something (or someone) beautiful that is no longer here.
Your Absence
When I was younger,you were always there
bursting out of the ground with color
every time spring would come around
I would watch as you slowly grew
from the pale green leaves to stem
until I came home from school one day
and there you were in all of your beauty
with all of your friends gathered around
as a child I would play in your home
and as I grew, helped mom plant
more friends for you to play with
underground in the cold fall weather
yet, no longer do I see your crimson petals
or the sunny yellow of your comrades
for you all have been taken away from me
by beast that will be stopped by nothing
not by a fence or even by a spray
they bite off all of your heads
spitting them out to lay
a fallen monument on the grassy ground
or dig up your bulbs in colder months
so that you are no longer here
the days go by now without your presence
during your favorite time of year
and I miss you.
Friday, April 23, 2010
April 23, 2010 - NaPoWriMo
Day Twenty Three Poetry:
The Lesson
they sit in silence
their desks in a row
waiting for direction
for their knowledge to grow
from English to history
wow, this class is such a mystery
the lesson is poetry
and how poets use rhyme
though rhyming is really hard to do
and they wish they could, don't you?
yet really every child
is just biding their time
waiting for the bell to ring
and be released into the hall
The Lesson
they sit in silence
their desks in a row
waiting for direction
for their knowledge to grow
from English to history
wow, this class is such a mystery
the lesson is poetry
and how poets use rhyme
though rhyming is really hard to do
and they wish they could, don't you?
yet really every child
is just biding their time
waiting for the bell to ring
and be released into the hall
Thursday, April 22, 2010
April 22, 2010 - NaPoWriMo
Day Twenty-two Poetry:
End of Semester Stress
Close your eyes
and calm yourself
listen to the
swaying of the leaves
the fall of rain
let the stress
of homework,
papers and exams
slip away
like ink drying
on a newly complete
assignment
Thats it,
Breathe deeply
and relax
summer is almost
here!
End of Semester Stress
Close your eyes
and calm yourself
listen to the
swaying of the leaves
the fall of rain
let the stress
of homework,
papers and exams
slip away
like ink drying
on a newly complete
assignment
Thats it,
Breathe deeply
and relax
summer is almost
here!
Wednesday, April 21, 2010
April 21, 2010 - NaPoWriMo
Day Twenty One Poetry:
Music
the music warms me
like a hot cup of cocoa
on a cold winter day
when the snow is falling
outside my window
like a blanket
protecting me
from the frigid air
in you I escape
during the darkest of days
and you soothe me
with your beautiful melodies
Music
the music warms me
like a hot cup of cocoa
on a cold winter day
when the snow is falling
outside my window
like a blanket
protecting me
from the frigid air
in you I escape
during the darkest of days
and you soothe me
with your beautiful melodies
Tuesday, April 20, 2010
April 20,2010 - NaPoWriMo
Day Twenty Poetry:
Under the Bathroom Door
The crash of the wind against the window
shatters through the subconscious
bringing dreams to an end
with the whirling of the blow dryer
the banging force of cabinets closing
the dripping of the shower running
bombastic voices drifting under doors
unimaginable stenches to nostrils
and you are awake
hours too early
Under the Bathroom Door
The crash of the wind against the window
shatters through the subconscious
bringing dreams to an end
with the whirling of the blow dryer
the banging force of cabinets closing
the dripping of the shower running
bombastic voices drifting under doors
unimaginable stenches to nostrils
and you are awake
hours too early
Monday, April 19, 2010
April 19, 2010 - NaPoWriMo
Day Nineteen Poetry (More than half way there!!):
In search of my Muse
My muse,
lost in the chaos of April
constantly searching
looking everywhere
through the neverending
depths of cyberspace
within the inner workings
of google's master mind
to find the perfect prompt
a subject unexplored
for her writer to employ
and write about today
In search of my Muse
My muse,
lost in the chaos of April
constantly searching
looking everywhere
through the neverending
depths of cyberspace
within the inner workings
of google's master mind
to find the perfect prompt
a subject unexplored
for her writer to employ
and write about today
Sunday, April 18, 2010
April 18, 2010 - NaPoWriMo
Day Eighteen Poetry:
Remembering
I've been there
too many times to count
I've eaten more meals
from au bon pain
than I care to remember
had the antiseptic smell
seep into my brain
and unsettle my stomach
more than enough times
spent countless visits
in the intensive care,
or the emergency room
and seen entirely too much
of jefferson five
yet, what I wouldn't give
to be there one more time
with you
Remembering
I've been there
too many times to count
I've eaten more meals
from au bon pain
than I care to remember
had the antiseptic smell
seep into my brain
and unsettle my stomach
more than enough times
spent countless visits
in the intensive care,
or the emergency room
and seen entirely too much
of jefferson five
yet, what I wouldn't give
to be there one more time
with you
Workshop Group C: Story #2
Story #2
Her slender fingers flicked the light switch on, flooding the familiar purple walls and mahogany furniture into focus. Tossing the worn duffle bag from over her shoulder haphazardly onto the ground by the open doorway, she let her feet carry her to the twin sized bed lined up against the opposite wall. Collapsing onto the lilac comforter of the bed, she let out a sigh of relief at the soft, comforting feel of her own mattress against her back as her eyes drifted shut.
“Settling back in okay, Mal?” a melodic voice questioned from the door in a slightly teasing tone.
Mallorie opened her eyes slowly, taking in her baby sister's petite form leaning against her doorframe. “It's good to be home. I missed my bed.” she teased, sitting up slowly.
“Ha ha ha. By the way, Mom says that you need to clean up your room now that you're home.” Moira informed her with a laugh before turning around with a swish of her dark brown hair as she left the room.
“MO!! Are you kidding me?” Mallorie screamed after her younger sister, “I just got home!”
“Nope. And maybe you should start with that wretched butterfly. Welcome home Mal.” Moira's laughing voice trailed behind her.
“So much for winter break.” Mallorie thought wryly, turning her head to the aforementioned butterfly. The navy blue and teal paint a contrast to the lilac walls. Reaching her hand out to the wall beside her bead, she slowly traced her pointer finger against the lopsided outline of the butterfly's wings.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * *
“Are you sure that you want butterflies painted all over the walls?” Kate questioned skeptically, surveying the newly painted lilac walls with disdain.
“Definitely.” Mallorie replied, her bare feet crossing the tarp covered floor to pick up a paintbrush from the pile beside the open paint cans. “Now get back to work.” she joked tossing another paintbrush at her friend.
“Hey, watch it!” Kate cried, jumping back in fright as the paintbrush landed a few feet in front of her.
“Butterflies.” Mallorie reminded her, tucking a second paintbrush behind her ear and skipping back to her side with a smile.
“Ugh, fine. What color do you want the butterfly?” she asked as she picked up the paintbrush and moved to the wall opposite the door.
“Well ...” Mallorie started, shifting her feet back and forth.
“No way. I refuse to paint it pink. Please, I am begging you. Anything else.” Kate interrupted her friend.
“Who said I was going to say pink?” she retorted, turning away from the outlining brush strokes she had just completed to stare at her friend.
“I know you.” Kate laughed, untying her golden blonde hair from its drooping bun and redoing it with a few practiced moves.
“Whatever.” she responded, turning back to her wall. Holding her arm steady, she made a few long strokes to color in the butterfly wings a dark magenta. Ignoring the music suddenly filling the room with a sigh, she placed the pink stained brush behind her left ear and pulled the other to paint the body. The two girls immersed in their respective drawings, working on opposite walls with only the sound of 'Hey Jude' in the background.
“Finished!” Kate cried happily, stepping back and admiring her handiwork with an accomplished smile.
With a final brush of light pink to complete her own perfectly symmetrical butterfly, Mallorie turned her head towards her best friend. “What is that?” Mallorie questioned, her eyes locked on the blob of navy blue and teal that only slightly resembled a butterfly if she squinted her eyes and tilted her head just so.
“My butterfly.” Kate replied, chuckling quietly at the puzzled look on her friends face.
“That does not look anything like a butterfly?”
“What? I never said that I could draw a perfect butterfly Ms. Symmetry.”
“Why did you not say anything about it then?” Mallorie asked, moving so that she was now standing next to Kate.
“Well you know that I am no artist. You should have painted your room dark blue with stars like mine instead. I am the queen of drawing stars. It's my specialty.” Kate retorted, a bit defensively.
“Sorry Kate, the butterfly is fine.”
“You can always paint over it, Mal. I don't mind. I think I will stick to painting flowers on your walls instead.” Kate replied, swinging her arm around Mallorie's shoulder as the two of them stared at the butterfly on the wall in front of them.
The two girls heads turned simultaneously in response to the knock at the door. “Hey Mom.” Mallorie greeted.
“Hi Mrs. Kassidy.” Kate greeted cheerfully.
“Hi girls. The room is looking good.” Mrs. Kassidy responded. “Are you both ready for a little break?”
“Definitely.” Kate replied, putting her paintbrush back into the blue paint can.
“Alright. Come on in to the kitchen then. It's time for lunch.”
* * * * * * * * * * * * * *
“Mallorie Elise, last time I checked daydreaming does not constitute as cleaning your bedroom.” Her mother joked from the doorjam.
“I just got home though. Can't I have a few days to relax before I start the whole cleaning thing?” Mallorie questioned, her voice borderline whining.
“Nice try. One day will turn into two, which will turn into a month and then break will be over and your room will still be a complete mess.”
“Fine.” she sulked.
“Fantastic. You can start with cleaning under your bed before dinnertime.” Mrs. Kassidy informed her. “The MacAllister's are coming over for dinner in half an hour.”
“Thanks Mom. I guess I need to start now if there is any chance of it getting done before break is over.”
“That a girl. Oh and Mallorie, it's nice to have you home.” her mother told her, heading down the hallway towards the kitchen.
“No time like the present.” Mallorie thought wryly. Falling to her knees beside the bed, she slowly peeked under the duvet. Piles of shoes and boxes filled nearly to the brim with sweaters greeted her. But it was a flash of dark blue and purple, hidden behind the shoes that caught her attention. Pushing her curly brown hair out of her grey eyes with one hand in a practiced gesture before moving a few items out of her way and pulling the small box out from under her bed.
Dust covered the top and the edges were tattered, held together with more metallic purple and navy blue duct tape than was necessary. She stared at it unblinkingly, wiping the dust off the cover and tracing her fingers over the childhood scribble there. Three words. Kate and Mallorie. Mallorie hesitated, glancing at her cell phone where it lay forgotten on the lilac bedspread as if Kate would pop out of it and reprimand her for even considering opening the box without her.
Her slender fingers flicked the light switch on, flooding the familiar purple walls and mahogany furniture into focus. Tossing the worn duffle bag from over her shoulder haphazardly onto the ground by the open doorway, she let her feet carry her to the twin sized bed lined up against the opposite wall. Collapsing onto the lilac comforter of the bed, she let out a sigh of relief at the soft, comforting feel of her own mattress against her back as her eyes drifted shut.
“Settling back in okay, Mal?” a melodic voice questioned from the door in a slightly teasing tone.
Mallorie opened her eyes slowly, taking in her baby sister's petite form leaning against her doorframe. “It's good to be home. I missed my bed.” she teased, sitting up slowly.
“Ha ha ha. By the way, Mom says that you need to clean up your room now that you're home.” Moira informed her with a laugh before turning around with a swish of her dark brown hair as she left the room.
“MO!! Are you kidding me?” Mallorie screamed after her younger sister, “I just got home!”
“Nope. And maybe you should start with that wretched butterfly. Welcome home Mal.” Moira's laughing voice trailed behind her.
“So much for winter break.” Mallorie thought wryly, turning her head to the aforementioned butterfly. The navy blue and teal paint a contrast to the lilac walls. Reaching her hand out to the wall beside her bead, she slowly traced her pointer finger against the lopsided outline of the butterfly's wings.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * *
“Are you sure that you want butterflies painted all over the walls?” Kate questioned skeptically, surveying the newly painted lilac walls with disdain.
“Definitely.” Mallorie replied, her bare feet crossing the tarp covered floor to pick up a paintbrush from the pile beside the open paint cans. “Now get back to work.” she joked tossing another paintbrush at her friend.
“Hey, watch it!” Kate cried, jumping back in fright as the paintbrush landed a few feet in front of her.
“Butterflies.” Mallorie reminded her, tucking a second paintbrush behind her ear and skipping back to her side with a smile.
“Ugh, fine. What color do you want the butterfly?” she asked as she picked up the paintbrush and moved to the wall opposite the door.
“Well ...” Mallorie started, shifting her feet back and forth.
“No way. I refuse to paint it pink. Please, I am begging you. Anything else.” Kate interrupted her friend.
“Who said I was going to say pink?” she retorted, turning away from the outlining brush strokes she had just completed to stare at her friend.
“I know you.” Kate laughed, untying her golden blonde hair from its drooping bun and redoing it with a few practiced moves.
“Whatever.” she responded, turning back to her wall. Holding her arm steady, she made a few long strokes to color in the butterfly wings a dark magenta. Ignoring the music suddenly filling the room with a sigh, she placed the pink stained brush behind her left ear and pulled the other to paint the body. The two girls immersed in their respective drawings, working on opposite walls with only the sound of 'Hey Jude' in the background.
“Finished!” Kate cried happily, stepping back and admiring her handiwork with an accomplished smile.
With a final brush of light pink to complete her own perfectly symmetrical butterfly, Mallorie turned her head towards her best friend. “What is that?” Mallorie questioned, her eyes locked on the blob of navy blue and teal that only slightly resembled a butterfly if she squinted her eyes and tilted her head just so.
“My butterfly.” Kate replied, chuckling quietly at the puzzled look on her friends face.
“That does not look anything like a butterfly?”
“What? I never said that I could draw a perfect butterfly Ms. Symmetry.”
“Why did you not say anything about it then?” Mallorie asked, moving so that she was now standing next to Kate.
“Well you know that I am no artist. You should have painted your room dark blue with stars like mine instead. I am the queen of drawing stars. It's my specialty.” Kate retorted, a bit defensively.
“Sorry Kate, the butterfly is fine.”
“You can always paint over it, Mal. I don't mind. I think I will stick to painting flowers on your walls instead.” Kate replied, swinging her arm around Mallorie's shoulder as the two of them stared at the butterfly on the wall in front of them.
The two girls heads turned simultaneously in response to the knock at the door. “Hey Mom.” Mallorie greeted.
“Hi Mrs. Kassidy.” Kate greeted cheerfully.
“Hi girls. The room is looking good.” Mrs. Kassidy responded. “Are you both ready for a little break?”
“Definitely.” Kate replied, putting her paintbrush back into the blue paint can.
“Alright. Come on in to the kitchen then. It's time for lunch.”
* * * * * * * * * * * * * *
“Mallorie Elise, last time I checked daydreaming does not constitute as cleaning your bedroom.” Her mother joked from the doorjam.
“I just got home though. Can't I have a few days to relax before I start the whole cleaning thing?” Mallorie questioned, her voice borderline whining.
“Nice try. One day will turn into two, which will turn into a month and then break will be over and your room will still be a complete mess.”
“Fine.” she sulked.
“Fantastic. You can start with cleaning under your bed before dinnertime.” Mrs. Kassidy informed her. “The MacAllister's are coming over for dinner in half an hour.”
“Thanks Mom. I guess I need to start now if there is any chance of it getting done before break is over.”
“That a girl. Oh and Mallorie, it's nice to have you home.” her mother told her, heading down the hallway towards the kitchen.
“No time like the present.” Mallorie thought wryly. Falling to her knees beside the bed, she slowly peeked under the duvet. Piles of shoes and boxes filled nearly to the brim with sweaters greeted her. But it was a flash of dark blue and purple, hidden behind the shoes that caught her attention. Pushing her curly brown hair out of her grey eyes with one hand in a practiced gesture before moving a few items out of her way and pulling the small box out from under her bed.
Dust covered the top and the edges were tattered, held together with more metallic purple and navy blue duct tape than was necessary. She stared at it unblinkingly, wiping the dust off the cover and tracing her fingers over the childhood scribble there. Three words. Kate and Mallorie. Mallorie hesitated, glancing at her cell phone where it lay forgotten on the lilac bedspread as if Kate would pop out of it and reprimand her for even considering opening the box without her.
Saturday, April 17, 2010
April 17, 2010 - NaPoWriMo
Day Seventeen Poetry:
Ode to a Mailbox
You are stationed
in many different places
on the house, by the road
standing proud and tall
Each day you are filled
bearing more news
than the day before
for me to puruse
You hold connections
from people near and far away
letters, cards, magazines
from friends and strangers alike
Ode to a Mailbox
You are stationed
in many different places
on the house, by the road
standing proud and tall
Each day you are filled
bearing more news
than the day before
for me to puruse
You hold connections
from people near and far away
letters, cards, magazines
from friends and strangers alike
Friday, April 16, 2010
April 16, 2010 - NaPoWriMo
Day Sixteen Poetry:
Tears
Like a volcano they erupt
sometimes without warning
other times come expectedly
unwrapping memories
pain best left covered up
the darkest moments
as the barrier explodes
leaving it all out in the open
the heartbreak, the lost friends
spilling down cheeks
fighting to be closed up again
for the line to be redrawn
and the wall built up again
stronger than before
yet still fated to crumble
Tears
Like a volcano they erupt
sometimes without warning
other times come expectedly
unwrapping memories
pain best left covered up
the darkest moments
as the barrier explodes
leaving it all out in the open
the heartbreak, the lost friends
spilling down cheeks
fighting to be closed up again
for the line to be redrawn
and the wall built up again
stronger than before
yet still fated to crumble
Thursday, April 15, 2010
April 15, 2010 - NaPoWriMo
Day Fifteen Poetry:
Strike A Pose
the camera awaits you
staring with an unblinking eye
you return the gaze
the music envelopes you
calming your senses
as your arms sway
finding the ideal resting spot
the perfect chemistry
as you strike a pose
Strike A Pose
the camera awaits you
staring with an unblinking eye
you return the gaze
the music envelopes you
calming your senses
as your arms sway
finding the ideal resting spot
the perfect chemistry
as you strike a pose
Wednesday, April 14, 2010
April 14, 2010 - NaPoWriMo
Day Fourteen Poetry:
A Flower Blooms
slowly creeping to the surface
from your hiding spot amongst the worms
pushing rocks and moist soil out of your path
to greet the outside world
sun shines on your tiny leaves for the first time
granting you strength, like that of a soldier
to grow and fight for survival
as leather soled enemies approach
threatening to bring you down
before you had the chance
to share your petaled beauty
with the environment encompassing you
A Flower Blooms
slowly creeping to the surface
from your hiding spot amongst the worms
pushing rocks and moist soil out of your path
to greet the outside world
sun shines on your tiny leaves for the first time
granting you strength, like that of a soldier
to grow and fight for survival
as leather soled enemies approach
threatening to bring you down
before you had the chance
to share your petaled beauty
with the environment encompassing you
Tuesday, April 13, 2010
April 13, 2010 - NaPoWriMo
Day Thirteen Poetry:
Faded Memories
darkness wraps around me
as comfortably as your faded sweatshirt
that I still cling on to
hug to my slight frame
though it no longer smells like you
a stolen token
reminding me
even when I wish only to forget
in the darkness
alone
Faded Memories
darkness wraps around me
as comfortably as your faded sweatshirt
that I still cling on to
hug to my slight frame
though it no longer smells like you
a stolen token
reminding me
even when I wish only to forget
in the darkness
alone
Monday, April 12, 2010
April 12, 2010 - NaPoWriMo
Day Twelve Poetry:
A Favorite Book
the crinkled pages
yellowed and torn
from repetitive use
each inked letter
committed to memory
characters fighting
across the page
or falling into
one anothers arms
draws the reader
into its depths
and holds them
captive
A Favorite Book
the crinkled pages
yellowed and torn
from repetitive use
each inked letter
committed to memory
characters fighting
across the page
or falling into
one anothers arms
draws the reader
into its depths
and holds them
captive
Sunday, April 11, 2010
April 11, 2010 - NaPoWriMo
Day Eleven Poetry:
The Door
a beacon
drawing the eye
of friends and passerbys
welcoming company
greeting guests
with its bright blue color
vibrant in the sunlight
a new front door
The Door
a beacon
drawing the eye
of friends and passerbys
welcoming company
greeting guests
with its bright blue color
vibrant in the sunlight
a new front door
Saturday, April 10, 2010
April 10, 2010 - NaPoWriMo
Day Ten Poetry:
Happy Birthday
Twenty candles
alight on top the cake
each one representing
a different moment
a landmark that you achieved
from the year you said your first word
to graduating high school
and going off to college last year
Happy Birthday to me!
Happy Birthday
Twenty candles
alight on top the cake
each one representing
a different moment
a landmark that you achieved
from the year you said your first word
to graduating high school
and going off to college last year
Happy Birthday to me!
Friday, April 9, 2010
April 9,2010 - NaPoWriMo
Day Nine Poetry:
Ode to a Vacuum Cleaner
you wake up the whole home
in your attempt to make it clean
around the rooms you roam
because cleanliness is the American dream
the whirling and swirling of sounds
jar the ear of everyone far and near
cleaning day is found in each and every town
where the thought of chores make children weep in fear
the doorbell sounds, the company has arrived
your job is finally done for the moment
the thought that the home is dirty is so contrived
as you retire to the closet and become dormant
Ode to a Vacuum Cleaner
you wake up the whole home
in your attempt to make it clean
around the rooms you roam
because cleanliness is the American dream
the whirling and swirling of sounds
jar the ear of everyone far and near
cleaning day is found in each and every town
where the thought of chores make children weep in fear
the doorbell sounds, the company has arrived
your job is finally done for the moment
the thought that the home is dirty is so contrived
as you retire to the closet and become dormant
Thursday, April 8, 2010
April 8, 2010 - NaPoWriMo
Day Eight Poetry:
Outdoors
the tranquil breeze
a gust of air
amongst the heat
water doused on lawns
children's laughter
as they run underneath
sprinkler waterfalls
like hummingbirds
their energy inexhaustible
fluttering from one place
to another in an instance
singing songs, dancing
wearing flowers in hair
grateful to be out of doors
no longer caged up
Outdoors
the tranquil breeze
a gust of air
amongst the heat
water doused on lawns
children's laughter
as they run underneath
sprinkler waterfalls
like hummingbirds
their energy inexhaustible
fluttering from one place
to another in an instance
singing songs, dancing
wearing flowers in hair
grateful to be out of doors
no longer caged up
Wednesday, April 7, 2010
April 7, 2010 - NaPoWriMo
Day Seven Poetry:
The Show
the clicking of the clock
chimed throughout
the small room
tick tock tick tock
each second passing
as the light from the stage
flickers steadily
tick tock tick tock
darkness wraps the room
movement occurs
it has begun
tick tock tick tock
The Show
the clicking of the clock
chimed throughout
the small room
tick tock tick tock
each second passing
as the light from the stage
flickers steadily
tick tock tick tock
darkness wraps the room
movement occurs
it has begun
tick tock tick tock
Tuesday, April 6, 2010
April 6, 2010 - NaPoWriMo
Day Six Poetry:
The Masterpiece
colors flash across
the newly turned page
red, orange, yellow
aided by an ink-stained hand
like a hawk descending on its prey
purple, blue, green
in search of its muse
to complete the frame
The Masterpiece
colors flash across
the newly turned page
red, orange, yellow
aided by an ink-stained hand
like a hawk descending on its prey
purple, blue, green
in search of its muse
to complete the frame
Monday, April 5, 2010
April 5, 2010 - NaPoWriMo
Day Five Poetry:
Spring Is Here
Spring is here again
Playful children's laughter
Roaming the yard like wanderers
In a desert, searching for a
New adventure, a place to
Grow
Spring Is Here
Spring is here again
Playful children's laughter
Roaming the yard like wanderers
In a desert, searching for a
New adventure, a place to
Grow
Sunday, April 4, 2010
April 4, 2010 - NaPoWriMo
Day Four Poetry:
Riding Around
the crackling of the pebbles beneath the tires
wind whooshing past, hair streaming like a banner
flying amidst the white lace of moths beside you
the creaking of the petals underneath worn sneakers
legs pumping faster and faster past the park
freedom
Riding Around
the crackling of the pebbles beneath the tires
wind whooshing past, hair streaming like a banner
flying amidst the white lace of moths beside you
the creaking of the petals underneath worn sneakers
legs pumping faster and faster past the park
freedom
Saturday, April 3, 2010
April 3, 2010 - NaPoWriMo
Day Three Poetry:
Color Guard
Colors flash across the sky
Crimson, lilac and turquoise
Telling the story of the music
Each note, accented by dance
Every step, a message portrayed
Emotion flowing through the field
Heads high as they smile and project
Applause lost in the careful count
Minds filled with drill and melody
A final pose, the flag drops to the ground
Color Guard
Colors flash across the sky
Crimson, lilac and turquoise
Telling the story of the music
Each note, accented by dance
Every step, a message portrayed
Emotion flowing through the field
Heads high as they smile and project
Applause lost in the careful count
Minds filled with drill and melody
A final pose, the flag drops to the ground
Friday, April 2, 2010
April 2, 2010 - NaPoWriMo
Day Two Poetry:
The Alarm
Beep Beep BEEP
hands reach out
from their sanctuary
under warm covers
groping for the snooze
just a moment more
of coveted rest
Beep Beep BEEP
rings across the room
a buzz in the silence
like a bee traveling to flowers
in places across the globe
from America to Australia
in Zambia and Zimbabwe
Beep Beep BEEP
sleep is doused from eyes
as they slowly open
and greet the new day
peeking open to survey
as a bear leaves its cave
in the early days of spring
awaiting to start fresh
The Alarm
Beep Beep BEEP
hands reach out
from their sanctuary
under warm covers
groping for the snooze
just a moment more
of coveted rest
Beep Beep BEEP
rings across the room
a buzz in the silence
like a bee traveling to flowers
in places across the globe
from America to Australia
in Zambia and Zimbabwe
Beep Beep BEEP
sleep is doused from eyes
as they slowly open
and greet the new day
peeking open to survey
as a bear leaves its cave
in the early days of spring
awaiting to start fresh
Thursday, April 1, 2010
April 1, 2010 - NaPoWriMo Begins!!
Day One Poetry:
The Scramble for the Class
Laptops flipping open
its that time of year again
nine o'clock on the dot
when students all over campus
in pajamas or dressed for class
logging in to the university site
the flurry of keys worthless
pin numbers entered in vain
the system is down once more
seconds tick by but to no avail
emails sent without answers
advisors absent when needed most
traveling from building to building
like mail flying to and fro
until it stops at its destination
the stress of scheduling complete
as the classes appear on the screen.
Finally.
The Scramble for the Class
Laptops flipping open
its that time of year again
nine o'clock on the dot
when students all over campus
in pajamas or dressed for class
logging in to the university site
the flurry of keys worthless
pin numbers entered in vain
the system is down once more
seconds tick by but to no avail
emails sent without answers
advisors absent when needed most
traveling from building to building
like mail flying to and fro
until it stops at its destination
the stress of scheduling complete
as the classes appear on the screen.
Finally.
Tuesday, March 30, 2010
First Page - Story #2
Story #2 - Opening
The noise emanating from the kitchen was deafening, making Mrs. Kassidy regret letting Mallorie talk her into inviting the McAllister kids over for a third time this week. Her usually tidy kitchen had become akin to a war zone. The table was covered with a wide array of colors of paint and play dough tacked all over it's once glistening wooden surface.
Moira's cries were becoming so loud she was sure the neighbors could hear and were dialing difice on her as she bounced the nine month old on her left hip. Not a bottle of her mother's soothing voice could get Moira to abate her vocal chords. To top it all off, Seth decided to join in on Moira's vocals with a little percussion of his own. Sitting on the cold, tiled floor, Seth was happily banging on an overturned pot with his chubby little arms. At two he was more than a handful than Mallorie was now.
Or not, Mrs. Kassidy thought wearily as she caught a glimpse of Mallorie's brown pigtails just as she got Moira to settle down. Mallorie ran into the room, Kate and Liam close on her tail as she circled the kitchen island, running straight into her mother, circling her arms around Mrs. Kassidy's long legs as Kate and Liam continued their game of chase.
“Mommy, Mommy!” Mallorie cried, “Liam's chasing us again. Please, make him stop.”
Mrs. Kassidy looked down at her daughter than glanced at the clock. Only eleven. It was going to be a long day and she was sorely outnumbered.
The noise emanating from the kitchen was deafening, making Mrs. Kassidy regret letting Mallorie talk her into inviting the McAllister kids over for a third time this week. Her usually tidy kitchen had become akin to a war zone. The table was covered with a wide array of colors of paint and play dough tacked all over it's once glistening wooden surface.
Moira's cries were becoming so loud she was sure the neighbors could hear and were dialing difice on her as she bounced the nine month old on her left hip. Not a bottle of her mother's soothing voice could get Moira to abate her vocal chords. To top it all off, Seth decided to join in on Moira's vocals with a little percussion of his own. Sitting on the cold, tiled floor, Seth was happily banging on an overturned pot with his chubby little arms. At two he was more than a handful than Mallorie was now.
Or not, Mrs. Kassidy thought wearily as she caught a glimpse of Mallorie's brown pigtails just as she got Moira to settle down. Mallorie ran into the room, Kate and Liam close on her tail as she circled the kitchen island, running straight into her mother, circling her arms around Mrs. Kassidy's long legs as Kate and Liam continued their game of chase.
“Mommy, Mommy!” Mallorie cried, “Liam's chasing us again. Please, make him stop.”
Mrs. Kassidy looked down at her daughter than glanced at the clock. Only eleven. It was going to be a long day and she was sorely outnumbered.
Sunday, March 28, 2010
Dialogue
3/29/10 - Dialogue
Admired Author:
"Hi," I said. She just looked at me, her expression ureadable. "Um, I'm Annabel. You just moved here, right?"
She didn't say anything for what seemed like a really long while, during which time Kirsten walked out of the ladies' room behind her. She stopped when she saw us talking.
"I," I continued, now even more uncomfortable, "I, um, think we're in the same grade."
The girl reached up, pushing her sunglasses farther up her nose. "So?" she said, in that same sharp, snide voice as the first time she'd addressed me.
"I just thought," I said, "that since, you know, we're the same age, you might want to hang out. Or something."
Another pause. Then the girl said, as if clarifying, "You want me to hang out. With you."
She made it sound so ridiculous I immediately began back-tracking. "I mean, you don't have to," I told her. "I was just --"
"No." she cut me off flatly. Then she tilted her head back and laughed. "No way."
-Sarah Dessen
My Dialogue:
“Lexie, could you help me do my hair? It's not turning out right.” Katie's voice questioned from the two seater behind her.
“Sure.” Lexie answered, zipping her uniform up and moving to sit in the seat next to her friend. Katie's hair was in a state of disarray, pieces were flying everywhere and her attempt at French braiding her own hair made her golden blond hair resemble Medusa's snakes. Sitting down next to her on the dull brown seat, Lexie couldn't help but let out a small chuckle.
“Don't laugh!” Katie cried, her arms moving protectively to her head as she tried to unravel her mess of hair.
“I'm ... so ... so-sorry.” Lexie exclaimed between laughter as Katie's hair got messier and messier with her attempts to tame it.
“You stink.” Katie declared solemnly, a pout adorning her features.
“You love me anyway,” she responded jokingly, their camaraderie smoothing the hard edges of sadness on Lexie's face, “Now move your hands away and let me work.”
“Fine.” Katie huffed, passing Lexie the brush from her bag before she had the chance to ask for it.
“Thanks.” Lexie said as she got to work carefully untangling Katie's wild hair. The other girls chatter filled the air. Their excitement evident as Lexie put a big glob of gel on her hand and smoothed the slimy substance through Katie's now flat head of hair. Their anticipation was contagious as Lexie could feel it slowly overwhelming the sadness (in it's battle for dominance) within her.
Admired Author:
"Hi," I said. She just looked at me, her expression ureadable. "Um, I'm Annabel. You just moved here, right?"
She didn't say anything for what seemed like a really long while, during which time Kirsten walked out of the ladies' room behind her. She stopped when she saw us talking.
"I," I continued, now even more uncomfortable, "I, um, think we're in the same grade."
The girl reached up, pushing her sunglasses farther up her nose. "So?" she said, in that same sharp, snide voice as the first time she'd addressed me.
"I just thought," I said, "that since, you know, we're the same age, you might want to hang out. Or something."
Another pause. Then the girl said, as if clarifying, "You want me to hang out. With you."
She made it sound so ridiculous I immediately began back-tracking. "I mean, you don't have to," I told her. "I was just --"
"No." she cut me off flatly. Then she tilted her head back and laughed. "No way."
-Sarah Dessen
My Dialogue:
“Lexie, could you help me do my hair? It's not turning out right.” Katie's voice questioned from the two seater behind her.
“Sure.” Lexie answered, zipping her uniform up and moving to sit in the seat next to her friend. Katie's hair was in a state of disarray, pieces were flying everywhere and her attempt at French braiding her own hair made her golden blond hair resemble Medusa's snakes. Sitting down next to her on the dull brown seat, Lexie couldn't help but let out a small chuckle.
“Don't laugh!” Katie cried, her arms moving protectively to her head as she tried to unravel her mess of hair.
“I'm ... so ... so-sorry.” Lexie exclaimed between laughter as Katie's hair got messier and messier with her attempts to tame it.
“You stink.” Katie declared solemnly, a pout adorning her features.
“You love me anyway,” she responded jokingly, their camaraderie smoothing the hard edges of sadness on Lexie's face, “Now move your hands away and let me work.”
“Fine.” Katie huffed, passing Lexie the brush from her bag before she had the chance to ask for it.
“Thanks.” Lexie said as she got to work carefully untangling Katie's wild hair. The other girls chatter filled the air. Their excitement evident as Lexie put a big glob of gel on her hand and smoothed the slimy substance through Katie's now flat head of hair. Their anticipation was contagious as Lexie could feel it slowly overwhelming the sadness (in it's battle for dominance) within her.
Tuesday, March 23, 2010
Story #2 - Beginning
The noise emanating from the kitchen was deafening, making Mrs. Kassidy regret letting Mallorie talk her into inviting the McAllister kids over for a third time this week. Her usually tidy kitchen had become akin to a war zone. The table was covered with a wide array of colors of paint and play dough tacked all over it's once glistening wooden surface.
Moira's cries were becoming so loud she was sure the neighbors could hear and were dialing difice on her as she bounced the nine month old on her left hip. Not a bottle of her mother's soothing voice could get Moira to abate her vocal chords. To top it all off, Seth decided to join in on Moira's vocals with a little percussion of his own. Sitting on the cold, tiled floor, Seth was happily banging on an overturned pot with his chubby little arms. At two he was more than a handful than Mallorie was now.
Or not, Mrs. Kassidy thought wearily as she caught a glimpse of Mallorie's brown pigtails just as she got Moira to settle down. Mallorie ran into the room, Kate and Liam close on her tail as she circled the kitchen island, running straight into her mother, circling her arms around Mrs. Kassidy's long legs as Kate and Liam continued their game of chase.
“Mommy, Mommy!” Mallorie cried, “Liam's chasing us again. Please, make him stop.”
Mrs. Kassidy looked down at her daughter than glanced at the clock. Only eleven. It was going to be a long day and she was sorely outnumbered.
Moira's cries were becoming so loud she was sure the neighbors could hear and were dialing difice on her as she bounced the nine month old on her left hip. Not a bottle of her mother's soothing voice could get Moira to abate her vocal chords. To top it all off, Seth decided to join in on Moira's vocals with a little percussion of his own. Sitting on the cold, tiled floor, Seth was happily banging on an overturned pot with his chubby little arms. At two he was more than a handful than Mallorie was now.
Or not, Mrs. Kassidy thought wearily as she caught a glimpse of Mallorie's brown pigtails just as she got Moira to settle down. Mallorie ran into the room, Kate and Liam close on her tail as she circled the kitchen island, running straight into her mother, circling her arms around Mrs. Kassidy's long legs as Kate and Liam continued their game of chase.
“Mommy, Mommy!” Mallorie cried, “Liam's chasing us again. Please, make him stop.”
Mrs. Kassidy looked down at her daughter than glanced at the clock. Only eleven. It was going to be a long day and she was sorely outnumbered.
Monday, March 22, 2010
Artful Sentences
3/22 - Sentences
Admired Author:
"He keeps his thoughts to himself, but I have a pretty good idea that he isn't, as I am, frantically trying to figure out what he's going to wear."
-Meg Cabot
My Sentence:
As he walked by I wondered, as always, what was going through his mind, but I reluctantly realized that I would never truly know again.
Admired Author:
"He keeps his thoughts to himself, but I have a pretty good idea that he isn't, as I am, frantically trying to figure out what he's going to wear."
-Meg Cabot
My Sentence:
As he walked by I wondered, as always, what was going through his mind, but I reluctantly realized that I would never truly know again.
Sunday, March 21, 2010
Short Story #1
Camp Overnight
The group of girls lay on their blankets across the big soccer field, munching on their popcorn as they watched Troy kiss Gabriella projected onto the white wall of the pavilion. On one of the bigger blankets lounged four of the girls in the fourth grade camp group, their three counselors sitting behind them. Rebecca and Jessyca lay contentedly on their stomachs, occasionally whispering to one another about how they had each seen High School Musical 3: Senior Year in theaters and how dreamy Zac Efron was. Sharone and Stephanie, two of their counselors took turns shushing them when their voices threatened to overpower Sharpay singing on the screen. Cheryl, another girl in the group lay on her stomach as well, devouring her popcorn as she lay on her stomach slightly off the blanket with her bare feet kicking up and down. The third counselor sighed quietly, pushing her light blond hair out of her faces as she kept her eyes on Cheryl before focusing on the arguing girls in front of her. Elizabeth's head rested on the sweatshirt the counselor had placed on her lap earlier, laying contently on her back. Beside her, Rebecca H. begged her to move up closer to the screen.
Realizing the argument would only get louder if she let it continue, the counselor butted in. “Girls, the movie is almost over. Why don't you just stay where you are for now?” Jamie whispered to them.
“Fine.” Rebecca H. huffed, laying back down with her head perched on her counselors knee. Her eyes drifted from the screen, staring up at the dark sky above her as she watched the twinkling of the stars that were not present when the movie had began.
The sound of clapping brought the young girl out of her reverie, glancing back at the credits rolling on the makeshift screen.
“Alright everyone. I hope you all have been enjoying your overnight at camp so far.” Hilary, the division head's, voice rang out over the group of thirty third and fourth grade girls and their counselors. “Unfortunately, now I am going to ask you all to go back to the drama building and set up for bed. We have another busy day of camp tomorrow.” she continued amidst the grumbling of the girls.
Reluctantly, the girls rose from their perches on the vast soccer field, gathering their blankets and putting their shoes back on. With a counselor taking the lead, the group made their way away from the pavilion.
“Come on girls. Hurry up.” Jamie called, glancing behind her and noticing a few stragglers. They were all strangely quiet for the trip back. Flashlights gleamed, lighting up the path through the woods that led to the drama building. Some of the girls quickened their pace after the trees surrounded them, others holding on to their friends in fright and worry that the fox they had seen earlier in the light of day or something even scarier would show itself.
Luckily, it seemed that the fox was taking the opportunity of a quieter camp to get some rest as well and did not show its face. The group made its way to the drama building without incident, as they climbed up the steps and entered the wood cabin like building that would be their room for the night. One of the counselors flicked on the light, bringing the large room into focus. The small, red couches were pushed to the side and a pile of sleeping bags and luggage was visible in one corner.
“Girls, grab your stuff and find a place to put your sleeping bags. When you are done, brush your teeth and get ready for bed.” one of the older counselors took charge, calling out names on the luggage as the girls came over to claim them. Jamie ambled over to help, finding the correct owners of the luggage while watching her campers carefully waiting for a sign of trouble. After each of the girls had their stuff, Jamie laid out her own sleeping bag towards the middle of the room and near her campers, while most of the other counselors put their sleeping bags together towards the back corner of the room.
A scream of frustration stopped Jamie from untying the knot keeping her sleeping back together. Looking up, she noticed with disappointment that it was coming from her group of campers. With a sigh, she walked the few steps over to them. “Cheryl, what is the problem?” she questioned, addressing the camper who had screamed.
“Elizabeth won't let me put my sleeping bag next to hers. She promised I could sleep next to her.” Cheryl complained.
Jamie looked at the row of sleeping bags with her girls sitting on them while Cheryl held hers tightly in her hands. “Elizabeth, did you tell Cheryl she could sleep next to you?”
“Yes, but then Rebecca and Jessyca said that they wanted to sleep next to me and they put their sleeping bags their first.” Elizabeth informed Jamie.
“Okay. Cheryl, what if you put your sleeping bag next to Kara?” Jamie questioned, attempting to placate Cheryl without making the other girls move.
“No! I don't want to sleep next to Kara. I want to be next to Elizabeth.” Cheryl replied stubbornly, scrunching her face in defiance.
“Rebecca, Jessyca. Would either of you be willing to move next to Kara?” Jamie asked, indicating the girl who set up her sleeping bag just a few down. Both girls shook their head resolutely. Jamie sighed, running her hands roughly through her hair in frustration as she looked about the room.
“What if you put your sleeping bag horizontally right here and your head can be near Elizabeth's too?” Jamie tried, at a loss of what to do since no one seemed willing to move.
“Okay.” Cheryl said slowly, wiping the tears from her face and starting to put her sleeping back out. Nodding, Jamie watched the girls for a while and realizing that the crisis was averted, went back to setting up her own sleeping bag.
As the girls got their bedding set up, they all took turns using one of the two bathrooms located in the back of the room to change into their pajamas and brush their teeth. The younger girls looked knackered, their eyes drooping shut as soon as their head hit the pillow despite the fact that the light was still on. The older girls, on the other hand, still seemed wide awake. A few of them were congregated on Elizabeth's sleeping bag, talking animatedly. From where she was a few feet away, Jamie could hear snippets of their conversation. Her fourth grade campers took turns talking about the activities that had gone on during the day.
“The talent show was the best. Did you see when Rebecca and Kara did all those dance moves together? So cool.” one of the girls commented.
“Uh uh. Making the raft and getting to swim in the pool after everyone else left was by far the best.” another claimed.
“I liked watching High School Musical Three.” a small voice added in to the discussion. Jamie just smiled, glad that the girls were all getting along well at the moment. Her eyes scanned the room. A few of the third graders were still awake, though just barely. Their eyes kept drifting closed even as they tried to read the pages of the books that they had brought with them. A few of the fourth grade girls were huddled together filling out mad libs and laughing. The majority of the counselors were huddled in the corner, trying to hide their phones as they texted whoever it was they were talking to. Jamie looked up as she noticed them all stash their phones quickly under their sleeping bags.
Their division head's curly hair came through the door as her brown eyes surveyed the girls in the room. “Time for lights out.” she called out from the doorway. “Goodnight everyone.”
The girls scurried over to their own sleeping bags, not questioning after hearing her stern voice. With a movement of her hand, she beckoned all of the counselors over to her. “I just wanted to let you know that I don't care what you do once the girls are asleep as long as there are at least two counselors in here with the girls.” she whispered, handing a walky talky to one of the counselors, “I will be sleeping in the office by the phones. If you need anything feel free to walky me.” We all nodded, turning out the lights after the division head had left.
“Goodnight girls. Try to get some sleep.” one of the older counselors said before turning to the other counselors and whispering. “Who wants to stay in here?”
“I'll stay.” a tall, brunette third grade counselor offered.
“Me too.” Jamie informed them at the same time another counselor said that she would. The remaining counselors nodded, slowly and quietly making their way out into the darkness of the woods surrounding them. Jamie and the other two counselors plopped themselves down on the red couches they had moved earlier. They stayed there, talking quietly to themselves until a few of the younger girls giggling started to get out of hand.
“I've got them.” the brunette offered, getting up and carefully making her way over the sleeping girls to the two who were not.
“I can't sleep.” a small voice uttered from the other side of the room.
The other girl began to get up, before Jamie stopped her. “She's mine. I'll go over and see what was wrong.” Trying to find spots not filled with slippery sleeping bags, Jamie cautiously made her way over to Elizabeth.
“What's the matter?” she questioned softly, sitting down by the head of her sleeping bag.
“I can't get to sleep. I'm too hot.” Elizabeth muttered softly, tossing and turning in her sleeping bag as she tried to get comfortable.
Jamie went to get up, only to be stopped by Elizabeth's pleading voice. “Jamie, don't go. I want to go home. I don't want to sleep here. I miss my mom.”
“It's okay Elizabeth. You will see your mom in the morning. And I'll be right back. I'm just going to get you a cool cloth.” Jamie promised, making her way to the bathroom to put some cold water on a cloth before making her way back.
“Will you stay with me until I fall asleep?” Elizabeth questioned as Jamie put the cool cloth over her forehead in an attempt to cool her down so she could sleep.
“Sure Elizabeth.” she told the young girl, making herself comfortable by her sleeping bag. After several more trips to rewet the compress, Elizabeth's deep breathing joined the snores and sighs of the rest of the campers. Waiting a few more minutes to make sure that she was truly asleep, Jamie made her way back to her own sleeping back. The other counselors had already joined the campers in the land of dreams. Jamie set the alarm on her phone to vibrate before placing it under her pillow and drifting off into sleep herself. Two o'clock in the morning. Tomorrow would be a very long day indeed.
The group of girls lay on their blankets across the big soccer field, munching on their popcorn as they watched Troy kiss Gabriella projected onto the white wall of the pavilion. On one of the bigger blankets lounged four of the girls in the fourth grade camp group, their three counselors sitting behind them. Rebecca and Jessyca lay contentedly on their stomachs, occasionally whispering to one another about how they had each seen High School Musical 3: Senior Year in theaters and how dreamy Zac Efron was. Sharone and Stephanie, two of their counselors took turns shushing them when their voices threatened to overpower Sharpay singing on the screen. Cheryl, another girl in the group lay on her stomach as well, devouring her popcorn as she lay on her stomach slightly off the blanket with her bare feet kicking up and down. The third counselor sighed quietly, pushing her light blond hair out of her faces as she kept her eyes on Cheryl before focusing on the arguing girls in front of her. Elizabeth's head rested on the sweatshirt the counselor had placed on her lap earlier, laying contently on her back. Beside her, Rebecca H. begged her to move up closer to the screen.
Realizing the argument would only get louder if she let it continue, the counselor butted in. “Girls, the movie is almost over. Why don't you just stay where you are for now?” Jamie whispered to them.
“Fine.” Rebecca H. huffed, laying back down with her head perched on her counselors knee. Her eyes drifted from the screen, staring up at the dark sky above her as she watched the twinkling of the stars that were not present when the movie had began.
The sound of clapping brought the young girl out of her reverie, glancing back at the credits rolling on the makeshift screen.
“Alright everyone. I hope you all have been enjoying your overnight at camp so far.” Hilary, the division head's, voice rang out over the group of thirty third and fourth grade girls and their counselors. “Unfortunately, now I am going to ask you all to go back to the drama building and set up for bed. We have another busy day of camp tomorrow.” she continued amidst the grumbling of the girls.
Reluctantly, the girls rose from their perches on the vast soccer field, gathering their blankets and putting their shoes back on. With a counselor taking the lead, the group made their way away from the pavilion.
“Come on girls. Hurry up.” Jamie called, glancing behind her and noticing a few stragglers. They were all strangely quiet for the trip back. Flashlights gleamed, lighting up the path through the woods that led to the drama building. Some of the girls quickened their pace after the trees surrounded them, others holding on to their friends in fright and worry that the fox they had seen earlier in the light of day or something even scarier would show itself.
Luckily, it seemed that the fox was taking the opportunity of a quieter camp to get some rest as well and did not show its face. The group made its way to the drama building without incident, as they climbed up the steps and entered the wood cabin like building that would be their room for the night. One of the counselors flicked on the light, bringing the large room into focus. The small, red couches were pushed to the side and a pile of sleeping bags and luggage was visible in one corner.
“Girls, grab your stuff and find a place to put your sleeping bags. When you are done, brush your teeth and get ready for bed.” one of the older counselors took charge, calling out names on the luggage as the girls came over to claim them. Jamie ambled over to help, finding the correct owners of the luggage while watching her campers carefully waiting for a sign of trouble. After each of the girls had their stuff, Jamie laid out her own sleeping bag towards the middle of the room and near her campers, while most of the other counselors put their sleeping bags together towards the back corner of the room.
A scream of frustration stopped Jamie from untying the knot keeping her sleeping back together. Looking up, she noticed with disappointment that it was coming from her group of campers. With a sigh, she walked the few steps over to them. “Cheryl, what is the problem?” she questioned, addressing the camper who had screamed.
“Elizabeth won't let me put my sleeping bag next to hers. She promised I could sleep next to her.” Cheryl complained.
Jamie looked at the row of sleeping bags with her girls sitting on them while Cheryl held hers tightly in her hands. “Elizabeth, did you tell Cheryl she could sleep next to you?”
“Yes, but then Rebecca and Jessyca said that they wanted to sleep next to me and they put their sleeping bags their first.” Elizabeth informed Jamie.
“Okay. Cheryl, what if you put your sleeping bag next to Kara?” Jamie questioned, attempting to placate Cheryl without making the other girls move.
“No! I don't want to sleep next to Kara. I want to be next to Elizabeth.” Cheryl replied stubbornly, scrunching her face in defiance.
“Rebecca, Jessyca. Would either of you be willing to move next to Kara?” Jamie asked, indicating the girl who set up her sleeping bag just a few down. Both girls shook their head resolutely. Jamie sighed, running her hands roughly through her hair in frustration as she looked about the room.
“What if you put your sleeping bag horizontally right here and your head can be near Elizabeth's too?” Jamie tried, at a loss of what to do since no one seemed willing to move.
“Okay.” Cheryl said slowly, wiping the tears from her face and starting to put her sleeping back out. Nodding, Jamie watched the girls for a while and realizing that the crisis was averted, went back to setting up her own sleeping bag.
As the girls got their bedding set up, they all took turns using one of the two bathrooms located in the back of the room to change into their pajamas and brush their teeth. The younger girls looked knackered, their eyes drooping shut as soon as their head hit the pillow despite the fact that the light was still on. The older girls, on the other hand, still seemed wide awake. A few of them were congregated on Elizabeth's sleeping bag, talking animatedly. From where she was a few feet away, Jamie could hear snippets of their conversation. Her fourth grade campers took turns talking about the activities that had gone on during the day.
“The talent show was the best. Did you see when Rebecca and Kara did all those dance moves together? So cool.” one of the girls commented.
“Uh uh. Making the raft and getting to swim in the pool after everyone else left was by far the best.” another claimed.
“I liked watching High School Musical Three.” a small voice added in to the discussion. Jamie just smiled, glad that the girls were all getting along well at the moment. Her eyes scanned the room. A few of the third graders were still awake, though just barely. Their eyes kept drifting closed even as they tried to read the pages of the books that they had brought with them. A few of the fourth grade girls were huddled together filling out mad libs and laughing. The majority of the counselors were huddled in the corner, trying to hide their phones as they texted whoever it was they were talking to. Jamie looked up as she noticed them all stash their phones quickly under their sleeping bags.
Their division head's curly hair came through the door as her brown eyes surveyed the girls in the room. “Time for lights out.” she called out from the doorway. “Goodnight everyone.”
The girls scurried over to their own sleeping bags, not questioning after hearing her stern voice. With a movement of her hand, she beckoned all of the counselors over to her. “I just wanted to let you know that I don't care what you do once the girls are asleep as long as there are at least two counselors in here with the girls.” she whispered, handing a walky talky to one of the counselors, “I will be sleeping in the office by the phones. If you need anything feel free to walky me.” We all nodded, turning out the lights after the division head had left.
“Goodnight girls. Try to get some sleep.” one of the older counselors said before turning to the other counselors and whispering. “Who wants to stay in here?”
“I'll stay.” a tall, brunette third grade counselor offered.
“Me too.” Jamie informed them at the same time another counselor said that she would. The remaining counselors nodded, slowly and quietly making their way out into the darkness of the woods surrounding them. Jamie and the other two counselors plopped themselves down on the red couches they had moved earlier. They stayed there, talking quietly to themselves until a few of the younger girls giggling started to get out of hand.
“I've got them.” the brunette offered, getting up and carefully making her way over the sleeping girls to the two who were not.
“I can't sleep.” a small voice uttered from the other side of the room.
The other girl began to get up, before Jamie stopped her. “She's mine. I'll go over and see what was wrong.” Trying to find spots not filled with slippery sleeping bags, Jamie cautiously made her way over to Elizabeth.
“What's the matter?” she questioned softly, sitting down by the head of her sleeping bag.
“I can't get to sleep. I'm too hot.” Elizabeth muttered softly, tossing and turning in her sleeping bag as she tried to get comfortable.
Jamie went to get up, only to be stopped by Elizabeth's pleading voice. “Jamie, don't go. I want to go home. I don't want to sleep here. I miss my mom.”
“It's okay Elizabeth. You will see your mom in the morning. And I'll be right back. I'm just going to get you a cool cloth.” Jamie promised, making her way to the bathroom to put some cold water on a cloth before making her way back.
“Will you stay with me until I fall asleep?” Elizabeth questioned as Jamie put the cool cloth over her forehead in an attempt to cool her down so she could sleep.
“Sure Elizabeth.” she told the young girl, making herself comfortable by her sleeping bag. After several more trips to rewet the compress, Elizabeth's deep breathing joined the snores and sighs of the rest of the campers. Waiting a few more minutes to make sure that she was truly asleep, Jamie made her way back to her own sleeping back. The other counselors had already joined the campers in the land of dreams. Jamie set the alarm on her phone to vibrate before placing it under her pillow and drifting off into sleep herself. Two o'clock in the morning. Tomorrow would be a very long day indeed.
Tuesday, March 9, 2010
First Page
The broken air conditioner made it so the heat of the bus was overwhelming in addition to the early summer's humidity. But even that was unable to put a damper on the excitement radiating throughout the old yellow school bus. Children were packed closely together, chattering away with their friends in excitement over the day's upcoming events at camp. The aisle was littered with duffel bags and garbage bags containing sleeping bags of all colors, clearly labeled with the name and group of a child. The bus counselor sat slumped in the front seat, her sunglasses covering her closed eyes as she repeatedly rubbed her temples. She was defeated, the noise was deafening, with the laughter and voices so loud that it overpowered the tune of Journey's “Don't Stop Believing” that radiated from the brand new stereo system located at the front of the bus. The last few times she dared get up from her seat, even the death grip on the brown plastic of the seat before her was unable to keep her from wobbling with the bus as it traveled over bumpy roads and she was unable to quiet them even a little bit.
If it was even possible, the noise level rose even more as the bus turned down the drive that led to camp, the forest green buildings coming into view out the window. In the front, the bus counselor rose in her seat and placed the sunglasses back on the top of her brunette head as they slowly came to a stop. The bus driver slid open the doors and the head of camp, a thin woman with shoulder length dark brown hair and a bright smile walked on.
“Good morning everybody!” she exclaimed, looking around at the joyful looks on the campers faces.
“Good morning Dana!” they all shouted back at her.
“Are there any third or fourth grade girls on this bus?” she questioned, pretending that she could not see all the luggage the bus was currently carrying.
A few of the older girls raised their hands, their smiles growing wider. “Well, I bet you guys are all excited for your overnight. You can come off first. Grab your bags and bring them to the drama building before making your way to morning assembly.” she instructed them before getting off the bus herself as the back emergency door was opened.
If it was even possible, the noise level rose even more as the bus turned down the drive that led to camp, the forest green buildings coming into view out the window. In the front, the bus counselor rose in her seat and placed the sunglasses back on the top of her brunette head as they slowly came to a stop. The bus driver slid open the doors and the head of camp, a thin woman with shoulder length dark brown hair and a bright smile walked on.
“Good morning everybody!” she exclaimed, looking around at the joyful looks on the campers faces.
“Good morning Dana!” they all shouted back at her.
“Are there any third or fourth grade girls on this bus?” she questioned, pretending that she could not see all the luggage the bus was currently carrying.
A few of the older girls raised their hands, their smiles growing wider. “Well, I bet you guys are all excited for your overnight. You can come off first. Grab your bags and bring them to the drama building before making your way to morning assembly.” she instructed them before getting off the bus herself as the back emergency door was opened.
Thursday, March 4, 2010
Artful Sentences
3/8/10 - Sentences
Admired Author:
"As I turned around, I saw he was holding the same red helmet he'd been wearing the first time I saw him. Also on the seat were several pads of all sizes: a large one that looked like something an umpire would wear, several that were tube-shaped, and some thick gloves."
-Sarah Dessen
My Sentence:
The counter was in total disarray, with cosmetics scattered all over the polished wooden surface. There was beige foundation, bright red blush, and small containers of eye shadow in every color of the rainbow piled haphazardly just waiting to be put on.
Admired Author:
"As I turned around, I saw he was holding the same red helmet he'd been wearing the first time I saw him. Also on the seat were several pads of all sizes: a large one that looked like something an umpire would wear, several that were tube-shaped, and some thick gloves."
-Sarah Dessen
My Sentence:
The counter was in total disarray, with cosmetics scattered all over the polished wooden surface. There was beige foundation, bright red blush, and small containers of eye shadow in every color of the rainbow piled haphazardly just waiting to be put on.
Tuesday, March 2, 2010
Stories!
Stories that I might like to write about:
1. loss of a close friend and/or the re-entrance of an old friend into one's life
2. a family's struggle through a difficult situation
3. the bonding experience of being a member of marching band
4. the relationship between siblings when one moves away/out of the house
5. forming new friendships at a summer camp
Stories I have told recently:
1. my hopes for a snow day on Thursday (I was very excited when we got one)
2. the young girl who almost threw up on me while I was helping my mom at a school event (that the girl wasn't supposed to be at) - yuck!
3. the group of people dressed up as "the decades" for Purim, the guy who was dressed as the "present day" was wearing a snuggie
4. shoveling fourteen inches of snow at my house over the weekend
5. the snowball fight I had with my mom on one of the snow days
1. loss of a close friend and/or the re-entrance of an old friend into one's life
2. a family's struggle through a difficult situation
3. the bonding experience of being a member of marching band
4. the relationship between siblings when one moves away/out of the house
5. forming new friendships at a summer camp
Stories I have told recently:
1. my hopes for a snow day on Thursday (I was very excited when we got one)
2. the young girl who almost threw up on me while I was helping my mom at a school event (that the girl wasn't supposed to be at) - yuck!
3. the group of people dressed up as "the decades" for Purim, the guy who was dressed as the "present day" was wearing a snuggie
4. shoveling fourteen inches of snow at my house over the weekend
5. the snowball fight I had with my mom on one of the snow days
Sunday, February 28, 2010
Artful Sentences
3/01/10 - Sentences
Admired Author:
"I don't know what I expected, except that it wasn't to see her pop straight up, keep her balance, and ride the wave all the way back to shore, where it finally petered out."
-Nicholas Sparks
My Sentence:
I was used to watching from a distance, the ultimate outsider even in a room filled with my closest friends. But, this year it was all going to be different. My self imposed exile ends now.
Admired Author:
"I don't know what I expected, except that it wasn't to see her pop straight up, keep her balance, and ride the wave all the way back to shore, where it finally petered out."
-Nicholas Sparks
My Sentence:
I was used to watching from a distance, the ultimate outsider even in a room filled with my closest friends. But, this year it was all going to be different. My self imposed exile ends now.
Saturday, February 27, 2010
Author's Corner: Robert Bly
While I was looking up information about prose poetry, I came across a prose poet by the name of Robert Bly. Bly co-founded American Writers Against the Vietnam War and actually led much of the opposition among writers to the Vietnam War, which I found to be interesting. According to his website, he has written quite a few books of poetry. I read a few of his poems and found that I really enjoyed them. One in particular that I liked:
Driving toward the Lac Qui Parle River
BY ROBERT BLY
I
I am driving; it is dusk; Minnesota.
The stubble field catches the last growth of sun.
The soybeans are breathing on all sides.
Old men are sitting before their houses on car seats
In the small towns. I am happy,
The moon rising above the turkey sheds.
II
The small world of the car
Plunges through the deep fields of the night,
On the road from Willmar to Milan.
This solitude covered with iron
Moves through the fields of night
Penetrated by the noise of crickets.
III
Nearly to Milan, suddenly a small bridge,
And water kneeling in the moonlight.
In small towns the houses are built right on the ground;
The lamplight falls on all fours on the grass.
When I reach the river, the full moon covers it.
A few people are talking, low, in a boat.
I found Bly's poetry on the following sites:
http://www.robertbly.com/index.html
http://ebbs.english.vt.edu/olp/gs/1.2/bushell.html
Driving toward the Lac Qui Parle River
BY ROBERT BLY
I
I am driving; it is dusk; Minnesota.
The stubble field catches the last growth of sun.
The soybeans are breathing on all sides.
Old men are sitting before their houses on car seats
In the small towns. I am happy,
The moon rising above the turkey sheds.
II
The small world of the car
Plunges through the deep fields of the night,
On the road from Willmar to Milan.
This solitude covered with iron
Moves through the fields of night
Penetrated by the noise of crickets.
III
Nearly to Milan, suddenly a small bridge,
And water kneeling in the moonlight.
In small towns the houses are built right on the ground;
The lamplight falls on all fours on the grass.
When I reach the river, the full moon covers it.
A few people are talking, low, in a boat.
I found Bly's poetry on the following sites:
http://www.robertbly.com/index.html
http://ebbs.english.vt.edu/olp/gs/1.2/bushell.html
Sunday, February 21, 2010
Workshop Group C: Experimental Poem
The prompt for this was to create a poem that consisted of directions.
Experimental Poem
By Jacqueline Segal
Begin seated at your desk,
fingers poised on the keyboard,
of the old, dilapidated computer in front of you,
textbook open upon your lap,
eyes focused, determined, diligent.
Or not.
Instead, turn to the phone on your right,
send a text to a forgotten friend.
her number once the most used in your list
Wait for a reply.
Too tired of waiting?
Get up and take a stretch,
Ignore the scattered pages of notes,
Pass the piles of textbooks,
filing up the empty surfaces of your room.
Make a right at the bookshelves,
Plop yourself down on the metallic blue,
bean bag of your childhood.
Grab your guitar.
Go ahead, strum a few chords.
The homework can wait, will wait.
Alright, enough fun.
Back to work.
Or not.
Go back towards the bookshelves.
Make a left, let your feet carry you back,
to the chair, at the desk,
the empty screen awaits you.
Pull up the internet,
fingers perched haphazardly on the keys,
search the endless depths of cyberspace.
Take a few moments to stare at the wall,
it's vibrant green hue dulling your senses.
Back to the computer.
Detour through the web.
It's alright, check your facebook.
Any new messages? No?
Break's over, time to work again.
Or not.
Allow your eyes to drift to the window,
take in the dirty blue color of the city skyline,
let the dismal honking of carhorns lull you to sleep.
Close your eyes,
just for a minute.
Or two.
The homework can wait.
Experimental Poem
By Jacqueline Segal
Begin seated at your desk,
fingers poised on the keyboard,
of the old, dilapidated computer in front of you,
textbook open upon your lap,
eyes focused, determined, diligent.
Or not.
Instead, turn to the phone on your right,
send a text to a forgotten friend.
her number once the most used in your list
Wait for a reply.
Too tired of waiting?
Get up and take a stretch,
Ignore the scattered pages of notes,
Pass the piles of textbooks,
filing up the empty surfaces of your room.
Make a right at the bookshelves,
Plop yourself down on the metallic blue,
bean bag of your childhood.
Grab your guitar.
Go ahead, strum a few chords.
The homework can wait, will wait.
Alright, enough fun.
Back to work.
Or not.
Go back towards the bookshelves.
Make a left, let your feet carry you back,
to the chair, at the desk,
the empty screen awaits you.
Pull up the internet,
fingers perched haphazardly on the keys,
search the endless depths of cyberspace.
Take a few moments to stare at the wall,
it's vibrant green hue dulling your senses.
Back to the computer.
Detour through the web.
It's alright, check your facebook.
Any new messages? No?
Break's over, time to work again.
Or not.
Allow your eyes to drift to the window,
take in the dirty blue color of the city skyline,
let the dismal honking of carhorns lull you to sleep.
Close your eyes,
just for a minute.
Or two.
The homework can wait.
Monday, February 15, 2010
Artful Sentences
2/16/10 - Sentences
Admired Author:
"Luce. Lucy. Lucinda Scarborough. Marry me. Please. I want you, and I want to be your daughter's father."
- Nancy Werlin
My Sentence(s):
She could hear the rain dripping down the sides of the house. The thunder was pounding. She was alone. Terrified. No one around to hear her should she scream.
Admired Author:
"Luce. Lucy. Lucinda Scarborough. Marry me. Please. I want you, and I want to be your daughter's father."
- Nancy Werlin
My Sentence(s):
She could hear the rain dripping down the sides of the house. The thunder was pounding. She was alone. Terrified. No one around to hear her should she scream.
Thursday, February 11, 2010
Writing Poetry
I haven't had much experience with writing poetry. I actually took a class in high school as an elective that was called Poetry/Advanced Creative Writing. However, I took the class mainly for the creative writing aspect. I was quite upset when even after we were done with the poetry portion of the course we were still doing poetry. In fact, I have never really been the biggest fan of writing my own poetry although I think its awesome that some people can write poetry. A lot of it has to do with the fact that I am very self conscious about my writing. It also does not help that my poetry always ends up sounding like a five year old wrote it. Although I sometimes feel like I have a great idea for a poem, I often have trouble actually making it into a poem.
Saturday, February 6, 2010
Artful Sentences
2/8/10 - Sentences
Admired Author:
"My mouth dropped open as I watched the beautiful, sleek animal enjoying the last few crumbs of his treat."
- Teri Brown
My Sentence:
Gianna and Benjamin leaned down to pick up the fallen papers at the same moment, their fingers brushing against each other lightly and with a small smile their lifelong friendship began.
Admired Author:
"My mouth dropped open as I watched the beautiful, sleek animal enjoying the last few crumbs of his treat."
- Teri Brown
My Sentence:
Gianna and Benjamin leaned down to pick up the fallen papers at the same moment, their fingers brushing against each other lightly and with a small smile their lifelong friendship began.
Tuesday, February 2, 2010
Author's Corner: Ellen Hopkins
I have been recommended to read the work of Ellen Hopkins by a few people, one of them being my younger sister. Ellen Hopkins is an author and has written books, such as Crank. What I find very interesting is that this book is written in poems. She additionally has some of her poetry up on her website and her own blog. I particularly liked a poem that I found on her website, entitled "Dry Spell."
Her website is: http://www.ellenhopkins.com/
Her blog can be found: http://ellenhopkins.livejournal.com/
Her website is: http://www.ellenhopkins.com/
Her blog can be found: http://ellenhopkins.livejournal.com/
Monday, February 1, 2010
Artful Sentences
2/1/10 - Short Sentences
-It all started the same.
-Our eyes locked, connected. So simply, and it began.
1/25/10 - Sentences
Admired Author:
"Especially my mom, who always seemed to take every raised syllable, every slam or crash, even the numerous sarcastic sighs like personal attacks."
- Sarah Dessen
My Sentence:
My sister was the most sensitive of us all; she took each crescendo of words, every murmured phrase and each dramatic role of the eyes as a personal slap across the face.
-It all started the same.
-Our eyes locked, connected. So simply, and it began.
1/25/10 - Sentences
Admired Author:
"Especially my mom, who always seemed to take every raised syllable, every slam or crash, even the numerous sarcastic sighs like personal attacks."
- Sarah Dessen
My Sentence:
My sister was the most sensitive of us all; she took each crescendo of words, every murmured phrase and each dramatic role of the eyes as a personal slap across the face.
Monday, January 25, 2010
What is writing?
Writing is the free-flowing of ideas crafted from the imagination and flowing onto the page. It takes the reader somewhere else. Whether it be to places beyond their wildest dreams or to revisit a small patch of land in their own backyard. Writing is a piece of the author, shared with the world through the wonder of the written word. It is thrilling, exciting, outrageous, frightening and terrifying all at the same time. Writing expresses emotion and paints a picture for both the reader and the author to enjoy. Through a few simple words, artfully arranged, a story is unraveled.
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