tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-86852601936562387972024-02-19T07:37:46.873-05:00Sincerely From, Rose CunninghamAn Inspirational Blog for All Filled With Stories, Poems, and QuotesRose I. Cunninghamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06273119387668027992noreply@blogger.comBlogger74125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8685260193656238797.post-53954508569411642182010-12-29T20:32:00.001-05:002010-12-29T20:34:16.939-05:00The Final Post<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWBSAQJb6kGLJJCzZ4XyK2c2wyMI8CHMpqujoYk8bT9PV53MbuyUJVyoWAzZIRKvfw7QXxLYkdgPaQDkCnEBoj2es2j1FEOllwMDG5QJ5UQBHeodgi1hWzVgd1TcswIcIyrW0hk8pDy1Q/s1600/the+end.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" n4="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWBSAQJb6kGLJJCzZ4XyK2c2wyMI8CHMpqujoYk8bT9PV53MbuyUJVyoWAzZIRKvfw7QXxLYkdgPaQDkCnEBoj2es2j1FEOllwMDG5QJ5UQBHeodgi1hWzVgd1TcswIcIyrW0hk8pDy1Q/s1600/the+end.bmp" /></a></div>I am sorry to say that I am officially shutting down this blog. I will still view other blogs, but I feel I am not meant to be a blogger myself. So this is it. The final post. Good bye, for this blog is out of service.Rose I. Cunninghamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06273119387668027992noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8685260193656238797.post-32379035840322400962010-11-10T21:34:00.000-05:002010-11-10T21:34:01.043-05:00Writer's Block<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjzOq5Bpspwb06QmYSod_BC27SSa9eJG4DOTxOypXHpVP0QKNvvRJBAopZAniKJwQLipvIwYbrY_d9LdZqnobeSznbw8Q3FF-mhqSefONSZO2dzCzGCrEY6mwsCdZLpSd8x6EwW0StgT4/s1600/writers+block.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="244" px="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjzOq5Bpspwb06QmYSod_BC27SSa9eJG4DOTxOypXHpVP0QKNvvRJBAopZAniKJwQLipvIwYbrY_d9LdZqnobeSznbw8Q3FF-mhqSefONSZO2dzCzGCrEY6mwsCdZLpSd8x6EwW0StgT4/s320/writers+block.png" width="320" /></a></div><em>A poem I wrote (a little formulaicly rythym-wise) when I had writer's block on an essay in Language Arts. Well, I just wrote it now. Maybe my writer's block will have gone away by the time the post hits cyberspace. I sure do hope so...</em><em></em><br />
A peaceful day<br />
A calming breeze<br />
A winter's breath<br />
Of flowing ease<br />
<br />
Is ruined once<br />
Is ruined again<br />
Demolished, dsetroyed<br />
By an unkind friend<br />
<br />
Writer's block<br />
Is here once more<br />
To provide chaos and stress<br />
And shake you to your core<br />
<br />
Why does it come?<br />
To bother me so?<br />
Why do I care<br />
And let it leave me low?<br />
<br />
After it gets here<br />
It settles in tight<br />
And prevents the flow of thinking <br />
And the tinkering idea light<br />
<br />
It invades my brain<br />
And diverts my thoughts<br />
Yet I somehow let it...<br />
But how do I not?<br />
<br />
How does one get rid of such things?<br />
How does one proceed to go on?<br />
By accepting it as an equal and working it out?<br />
By spazzing out and calling it a moron?<br />
<br />
No. Take a calm approach.<br />
Think of a pleasant experience<br />
In which you have written<br />
Then the block relents<br />
<br />
It will melt to nothingness<br />
Shrivel away<br />
The only comfort in writer's block <br />
Is that it's not here to stay.Rose I. Cunninghamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06273119387668027992noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8685260193656238797.post-51611826949373736112010-10-26T21:06:00.004-04:002010-10-26T21:14:06.993-04:00Time<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEin6JtJpLyNcfQPygepJ-e4jYi4awQwHxUYLtcuEkV4mPi14xDdSnxo7-NtR-iH3g2F843Hs7g5bLJ8cXhMrnGUEiN47_TSguB-qsGgDQv3sM7kf2nOCUqVsInX-wmc-vDin_vPo-HEdRE/s1600/time.bmp"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 137px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 103px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5532527857637157618" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEin6JtJpLyNcfQPygepJ-e4jYi4awQwHxUYLtcuEkV4mPi14xDdSnxo7-NtR-iH3g2F843Hs7g5bLJ8cXhMrnGUEiN47_TSguB-qsGgDQv3sM7kf2nOCUqVsInX-wmc-vDin_vPo-HEdRE/s320/time.bmp" /></a>Slipping so fast <div>As I grasp on tightly,</div><div>It slithers away,</div><div>Stealthily innocent.</div><div>Moving, always moving;</div><div>Flowing, always flowing.</div><div>Amazing, appreciated slowly,</div><div>Unlike its rapid route,</div><div>Of going so fast,</div><div>When I want it to slow.</div><div>Or when it falls away,</div><div>Out of reach,</div><div>Uncomprehended, but accepted.</div><div>An unknown stranger.</div><div><em>Swoosh, </em>and it is gone;</div><div>Forever.</div><div>Into my hands,</div><div>The Miracle of Time.</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8685260193656238797.post-46106927879479722672010-10-24T16:41:00.009-04:002010-10-24T16:52:17.287-04:00Whistle to the Wind<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-aKC9ZgmuxrKzS9OhA04eYyuuHQrnRUMHCNwqVt8TJlGHua6RpJ-qmQbFOcahcIPyGRsobIWheHVCot9uoZJ8ZT9GM3og9X2V8Q8KHI4ruSbztuvIlz2eQow5gN9RgLVScuyslegQmaY/s1600/cloud+wispy+sky+vlue.bmp"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 150px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 115px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5531717906576244434" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-aKC9ZgmuxrKzS9OhA04eYyuuHQrnRUMHCNwqVt8TJlGHua6RpJ-qmQbFOcahcIPyGRsobIWheHVCot9uoZJ8ZT9GM3og9X2V8Q8KHI4ruSbztuvIlz2eQow5gN9RgLVScuyslegQmaY/s320/cloud+wispy+sky+vlue.bmp" /></a>When I whistle <div>My secrets,</div><div>The song of my world,</div><div>A melody so fragile,</div><div>Comes bellowing,<br />Unfurled.</div><div></div><div>I tell nature,</div><div>Who's listening,</div><div>Everything I know,</div><div>Through the tool,</div><div>Of communicating,</div><div>My song as I go.</div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div>The wind sweeps,</div><div>Unto me,</div><div>And carries my words away,</div><div>And the tune ,</div><div>That I whistle, </div><div>Is lost in the day.</div><br /><div></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8685260193656238797.post-82962201247152998232010-10-24T16:38:00.002-04:002010-10-24T16:40:54.496-04:00Journal<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoThStopzysbI8vRBKviQKrnBhN4914QU_luyMjt3rubJk2gzGnmspFM9UOh4daFBDyD30Trt9zamx50koSAgZuEiCrnF2kJr4qG06d8MtyzIldUYJtAI2WT7gPqKnkmWUOP1jZc3TRQ0/s1600/journalandkey.bmp"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 143px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 143px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5531715343343298994" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoThStopzysbI8vRBKviQKrnBhN4914QU_luyMjt3rubJk2gzGnmspFM9UOh4daFBDyD30Trt9zamx50koSAgZuEiCrnF2kJr4qG06d8MtyzIldUYJtAI2WT7gPqKnkmWUOP1jZc3TRQ0/s320/journalandkey.bmp" /></a>Journal <div>Binding my thoughts</div><div>Keeping my secrets</div><div>Holding my place in life</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8685260193656238797.post-9915392552540754102010-10-24T16:34:00.002-04:002010-10-24T16:37:53.271-04:00The Season of Poetry<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgctkIio_tEmnsyMCoOntWj6OZRibJh1LWcrcH0yGOHCOioBn5t8wAqmFU7U7ar1CYXj7NjvW3sJUagykrFF61fBK0xNCY7yhEj5CeDYWjUh8XFs2956mSf1WXlY1_Ppwokr0hUVGEJ6qA/s1600/fall.bmp"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 140px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 109px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5531714510729596018" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgctkIio_tEmnsyMCoOntWj6OZRibJh1LWcrcH0yGOHCOioBn5t8wAqmFU7U7ar1CYXj7NjvW3sJUagykrFF61fBK0xNCY7yhEj5CeDYWjUh8XFs2956mSf1WXlY1_Ppwokr0hUVGEJ6qA/s320/fall.bmp" /></a>The season of poetry <div>Has arrived</div><div>Bright is the sun</div><div>Shining in the clouds</div><div>Crisp is the air</div><div>Surrounding our souls</div><div>Colourful is the world</div><div>We are thrust into graciously </div><div>Pristine are the leaves</div><div>Falling to reality</div><div>Happy am I</div><div>That the season has begun</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8685260193656238797.post-79660866201300573822010-10-24T16:32:00.003-04:002010-10-24T16:38:22.369-04:00River<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhi-NW30pCp4DFv0-5aJ1yImDwDLh2hcGOI-gn-aaY_qMTI-lxtJLcWKnckaTRqQY3EQOjRTynnHFupKc2bCFb81aUkXxveiX6QISQdSudBYmfmU9-o3yZRCdXGSexgKposfOHu-jKp56Q/s1600/river+oooo.bmp"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 150px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 120px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5531713735702779506" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhi-NW30pCp4DFv0-5aJ1yImDwDLh2hcGOI-gn-aaY_qMTI-lxtJLcWKnckaTRqQY3EQOjRTynnHFupKc2bCFb81aUkXxveiX6QISQdSudBYmfmU9-o3yZRCdXGSexgKposfOHu-jKp56Q/s320/river+oooo.bmp" /></a>A river <div>Flowing</div><div>On and on</div><div>As the tears fall</div><div>Drop by drop</div><div>And I cry</div><div>Heart to heart</div><div>With myself and my emotions</div><div>As the river goes on</div><div>Continuous</div><div>Line by line</div><div>Made up of more</div><div>Than the eye can see</div><div>Meanings</div><div>One by one</div><div>Connecting</div><div>Piece to piece</div><div>Forming a story</div><div>Of my life</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8685260193656238797.post-80251773211130029602010-09-27T21:07:00.004-04:002010-09-27T21:42:24.722-04:00Blog Survey!<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihyFyPd9uBJU79RZw3XaUNg2N1RQeSPCOn7TVJ4_1E3MKJNNMgGbTFad0rF8HC_xTg6IbDpaLxKGZoK3KPFpsbzJCeQ2qujGRH5VpjblHgpErTLSCe2a9Ob6a4cfImhOuhLUwcEKWFQug/s1600/survey.bmp"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 126px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 84px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5521773731037620562" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihyFyPd9uBJU79RZw3XaUNg2N1RQeSPCOn7TVJ4_1E3MKJNNMgGbTFad0rF8HC_xTg6IbDpaLxKGZoK3KPFpsbzJCeQ2qujGRH5VpjblHgpErTLSCe2a9Ob6a4cfImhOuhLUwcEKWFQug/s320/survey.bmp" /></a><br /><div>Dear Followers, Visitors, and Other Who View My Blog,</div><br /><div>Here is the first blog survey that I have composed to get feedback from my followers, visitors, and anyone who sees my blog. I want to hear your feedback, good or bad, and I will try to listen and fix problems and/or keep the good stuff. Thanks!</div><br /><div>Sincerely From,</div><div>Rose Cunningham</div><br /><div>Link to Survey (1): <a href="https://spreadsheets.google.com/viewform?hl=en&pli=1&formkey=dDFKSlhwU255M1g0UFpyVGRaSVlTbEE6MQ#gid=0">https://spreadsheets.google.com/viewform?hl=en&pli=1&formkey=dDFKSlhwU255M1g0UFpyVGRaSVlTbEE6MQ#gid=0</a></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8685260193656238797.post-19507287402023462722010-09-27T20:16:00.012-04:002010-09-27T21:07:03.468-04:00Poem Experiments<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjM5Ab0MGFNAD68dPcPS3ym7aedvJQL1JJuvKU_NILWUOyBufVKA0IDjN8xyMs5aaAWm-N2N9iX_LS8BkF5IZCEuO79xZJQnenlYShJjepOcfkQhttMI94wZ8K3ZDXOoBsFOfT2hU7hr2Y/s1600/wruiting+experiments.bmp"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 140px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 105px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5521762452630428738" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjM5Ab0MGFNAD68dPcPS3ym7aedvJQL1JJuvKU_NILWUOyBufVKA0IDjN8xyMs5aaAWm-N2N9iX_LS8BkF5IZCEuO79xZJQnenlYShJjepOcfkQhttMI94wZ8K3ZDXOoBsFOfT2hU7hr2Y/s320/wruiting+experiments.bmp" /></a><br /><br />As I was going through some old notebooks I found a few poems I would like to share and some that are inspired from previous occasions, so here goes: <div><div><div><p> </p><p><span style="font-size:130%;">1. Doodling: Turning Boredom to Wonder and Dreams</span></p><br /><div> </div><div><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 304px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 308px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5521761791332228002" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLDdgLrrvddEbencNo9I5IEtE6J3JXZwHH_-G92tE3ZaN8yAkVCDXICbtzwmXs2JAhWckO7draSmXSafwDJWjB2juZJRUf9veowfO1BmN0g6564sHZn8k4n84q5-Fwrn2GkJFMAfeE50Y/s320/doodle.jpg" /><br /></div><br /><div>Why do I doodle?</div><div>Just like so?</div><div>Destroying this notebook</div><div>In the only way I know.</div><br /><div>Writing meekly exists</div><div>While scribbles are alive;</div><div>It is for its wide-ruled lines</div><div>These Drawings will thrive.</div><br /><div><em>I think this is just something fun and light. Entertainment, per say. And btw, I abhor wide-ruled paper with a fiery passion of dislike and negative emotions swirled up in a fizzy drink for 10 hours and let out all at once. Every second of my life. ~College Ruled Rules~</em></div><br /><div><span style="font-size:130%;">2. Of Love, Hatred, and Evil</span></div><div><br /><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 124px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 103px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5521760728555625282" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTiDIRMdWMrqANGjkj_XwssYOb__LQVQgRzAuhMYobW4wj-2e9Azfj283y12dJMpQEJDZd0ZIyrOSDqfpkBFQxrmuNpg49GIP2tlEUfJIs-wBaLDEdwAZ3_6VqCd7nJYDCMw5_4VDZplU/s320/of+love+hatred+and+evil.bmp" /><br /></div><div>Her eyes carried silent tears</div><div>Of diminshed hope</div><div>Of painful sorrow</div><div>Of angry love</div><div>Of broken tomorrow.</div><div> </div><div>Her mouth spoke with no words at all</div><div>Of her journey </div><div>Of her life</div><div>Of her suffering</div><div>Of her knife.</div><div> </div><div>Her hands shook with unknown fear</div><div>Of dreading consequences </div><div>Of hatred so pure</div><div>Of her beauty beyond<br />Of her condescending lure</div><div> </div><div>Her brain whizzed into a flurry of panic</div><div>Of why she had done it</div><div>Of how he had betrayed her</div><div>Of how she couldn't go back</div><div>Of how she had to face it later.</div><br /><div>Her heart shed shards of broken glass</div><div>Of misunderstanding</div><div>Of obstacles whose pain will burn</div><div>Of true love smashed</div><div>Of no return.<br /></div><div>Her heart did not continue shedding hope</div><div>Because it stopped</div><div>Her heart gave out at last</div><div>She lay next to her lover</div><div>And forgot the past.</div><br /><div><em>This one is a bit more intense and emotional. For some reason though, I cannot come to a conclusion of why I wrote this. I am often surprised that these things come out of my brain. How? Why? I concluded when I wrote this that I have an emptiness in regard to events like this, they do not pertain to me and I am not experienced anything of have something concrete to relate to, so I use references from the world around me to conjure a poem to fill the emptiness I have from lack of experience. Rather.</em></div><div><em>Moving along...</em></div><div><em></em><br /> </div><div><span style="font-size:130%;">3. Setting Sun</span><br /><br /></div><div><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></div><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 150px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 113px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5521759403510840642" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrZm0YHxRkQzcTr0cMtxro6upqH3CiUk76AhZX1fLWrBU4ePxHS4vzvrttrb0wJ0-vZz1D1T1F86K9u4RUShLpVutPWA-ipHqiauiqPriMpJlqNjxjsu6xYeqOZfmpDck5JI1fXcvkAKg/s320/setting+sun.bmp" /><br /><div>Setting sun,</div><div>Crimson wings flail like birds in a cage;</div><div>Screaming surrender as the moon takes over.</div><div>A gleam of peace across a streaked sky,</div><div>An angel's kiss, light, airy, full of power and awe,</div><div>Stunning, painted with an artist's paw;</div><div>The beauty, a veil to the coming night.</div><br /><div><em>A more natural tone and many techniques that I experimented with. If you notice, it the same pattern as "<a href="http://letterstowordstostories.blogspot.com/2010/06/night.html">The Night</a>," save the last line. I wrote it after I recalled that poem and, well, a setting sun.</em></div><br /><div><span style="font-size:130%;"></span> </div><div><span style="font-size:130%;">4. Abused</span></div><div><span style="font-size:130%;"></span><br /> </div><div><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 110px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 131px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5521758399640082370" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_Dr6i0d5JJkJh_gBk0kg4b9fjV5ux4jVbgPa8Bad9NoCRihyphenhyphenWFl5Y7ihVSTDiR0Ck8AemCyOU9auHBYxUJMahOzoDeqdyNmaypIu8ncA0DK3X79j7pvotDjKQid8j9g9neEBnrUBTTRM/s320/abused.jpg" /><br /></div><div>She walked without a need,</div><div>Helplessly quiet.</div><div>No one glanced or payed aheed.</div><div>She walked without a need.</div><div>No one cares for her, indeed.</div><div>Her head low, an internal riot,</div><div>She walked without a need,</div><div>Helplessly quiet.</div><br /><div><em></em> </div><div><em>I found this interesting as I came back upon it. It is in the style of a triolet, where the structure is as follows:</em></div><div> </div><div><em>Line 1: important, will be repeated</em></div><div><em>Line 2: important, will be repeated</em></div><div><em>Line 3: rhymes with Line 1</em></div><div><em>Line 4: Line 1, repeated</em></div><div><em>Line 5: rhymes with Line 1</em></div><div><em>Line 6: rhymes with Line 2</em></div><div><em>Line 7: Line 1, repeated</em></div><div><em>Line 8: Line 2, repeated</em></div><div><em></em> </div><div><em>So that was my first triolet I ever wrote, and at the time I thought it was hideous and terrid. Yet now, as I look back, it shows some gleaming potential and gives room for the reader to think. All of these poems, I had abandoned or overlooked (or, in reference to #3 not finished but a few lines), and now I see that they are worth sharing and are great in their own way. So I hope you enjoy them, and feel more than free to comment! It's free! No price at all to share your thoughts. Not even a penny for your thoughts. Ok, pathetic,...But alas, thanks for reading and hope you enjoyed my poetic experiments!</em></div></div></div></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8685260193656238797.post-10613234698974640092010-09-04T15:48:00.023-04:002010-09-06T18:55:53.272-04:00The Tiny Man's Journey<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxyM3dKbsl2W3EAf3X0tmaB8kI8kIpaUQ4YrfoT_hqSyiLq_-TMZPi71BN7il94o2VERoWuA5mzvaO_-YzmcGNiD94axfD1Ki6dewzXCyNrD-uVzqL7ZvD_6yhBbxHRd1LAMXONfCuVTc/s1600/field1.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 162px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5513156868944447010" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxyM3dKbsl2W3EAf3X0tmaB8kI8kIpaUQ4YrfoT_hqSyiLq_-TMZPi71BN7il94o2VERoWuA5mzvaO_-YzmcGNiD94axfD1Ki6dewzXCyNrD-uVzqL7ZvD_6yhBbxHRd1LAMXONfCuVTc/s200/field1.jpg" /></a><br /><div></div><br /><br /><div>Once upon a time, </div><div>A ways in the past,</div><div>A tiny man began his journey-</div><div>His first and his last.</div><div> </div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div>Across a deep moat </div><div>Is where he began;</div><div>To overthrow the King</div><div>Was his passionate plan.</div><div> </div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div>He stepped up to the gate,</div><div>Feeling powerful and brave.</div><div>The expression he wore</div><div>As he spoke was quite grave.</div><div> </div><div></div><div></div><div>"Let me see the King,"</div><div>He demanded real loud.</div><div>He took a step forward</div><div>As he formally bowed.</div><div> </div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div>"Of what do you want?"</div><div>An answer came booming.</div><div>The tiny man stood,</div><div>In the air, his reply looming.</div><div> </div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div>"I have come for the King,</div><div>I, the small and the meek.</div><div>To confront his royal majesty </div><div>Is all I will speak."</div><div> </div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div>"Why then," the voice started,</div><div>"Come forth, yes indeed.</div><div>Your request will be honoured,</div><div>You will get what you decreed."</div><div> </div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div>"Why thank you, your highness.</div><div>Let me pay my respects.</div><div>All I ask in return,</div><div>Is a battle of intellects."</div><div> </div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div>The tiny man went in the palace,</div><div>And as he did so,</div><div>The majesty himself</div><div>Decided to show. </div><div> </div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div>"Intellects, huh?"</div><div>He sneered at the man,</div><div>"But first we fight!</div><div>Come at me, let's see if you can."</div><div> </div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div>"Physically?" the man stammered,</div><div>Not ready to fight.</div><div>He couldn't muster another word,</div><div>Try as he might.</div><div> </div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div>"Yes! exclaimed the King,</div><div>With an awfully cruel sneer.</div><div>"Begin!" he cried jovially,</div><div>Coming at the man with a spear.</div><div> </div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div>Scared at the King's</div><div>Nasty reply,</div><div>The tiny man thought fast</div><div>And made a decision so sly.</div><div> </div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div>He took off running,</div><div>Sprinting as fast as he could go,</div><div>While the King sent an army,</div><div>Yet the little man did not know.</div><div> </div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div>Not intellects anymore,</div><div>It was a battle of speed.</div><div>The army tromped off</div><div>After the man who had fleed.</div><div> </div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div>"I will get you tiny man!</div><div>You'll pay your sorry price!"</div><div>But the man, o so clever</div><div>Knew the army's only vice.</div><div> </div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div>As he zoomed through a patch</div><div>Of overgrown grass,</div><div>He wrapped himself in a piece,</div><div>What an apt little lass!</div><div> </div><div></div><div></div><div>The army was bewildered.</div><div>Where had the man crept?</div><div>He was hidden from sight,</div><div>So the army trudged back as they wept. </div><div> </div><div></div><div></div><div>"We're sorry, dear King,"</div><div>They sobbed as one force,</div><div>"We couldn't find him,</div><div>By foot or by horse." </div><div> </div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div>The King was quite maddened,</div><div>But he called off the search.</div><div>"If he ever comes back,</div><div>We'll be ready to lurch."</div><div> </div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div>That was not the case,</div><div>The man was hopelessly lost.</div><div>But he figured for his plan,</div><div>This was the cost.</div><div> </div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div>He was in a field of berries,</div><div>Lush grass, o so green,</div><div>Clear and beautiful skies,</div><div>And branches so lean.</div><div> </div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div>After exploring the land,<br />The marshes, the cave,<br />The man decided it was wondrous,<br />And made a choice so very brave.</div><div> </div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div>He decided to build himself</div><div>A cabin of log</div><div>Nearby some horses</div><div>And overlooking the bog.</div><div> </div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div>From now on, </div><div>The tiny man resides by the pasture,</div><div>What a courageous little man,</div><div>Who's living happily ever after.</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8685260193656238797.post-1881919048000057872010-09-03T21:02:00.004-04:002010-09-04T15:45:38.710-04:00Quotes of Rose Cunningham 4<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjH92kcoGkczWBNA1AEMdAwy4SCgtMGL1MqGJOWMuogwrg7yinovklo5FnRnalFGLr2X6iwq8y4r1EqZ0tZ2OwkPpFZRlapWd9a5C29dzjmTqzSO2OJHBg5QBf2g2nlfU9yfExWOv-r4p4/s1600/quote+marks.png"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 142px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5512862974680772514" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjH92kcoGkczWBNA1AEMdAwy4SCgtMGL1MqGJOWMuogwrg7yinovklo5FnRnalFGLr2X6iwq8y4r1EqZ0tZ2OwkPpFZRlapWd9a5C29dzjmTqzSO2OJHBg5QBf2g2nlfU9yfExWOv-r4p4/s200/quote+marks.png" /></a> Finally! It has been 8 months since my last post on quotes. I'm am so deeply sorry I took a break from writing quotes, but I assure you, I have restarted. At least one almost every night! Hope you enjoy these:<br /><div></div><div>"Inspiration doesn't come when you call it, or just act upon your every heart's desire. It is something that needs to be longed for from within, and found with a passion."</div><br /><div></div><div>"As I write this, I think of all the people who could potentially read it, and I am in awe."</div><br /><div></div><div>(extension: I feel so blessed to know I am noticed.")<br /><br />"Awe is a state of such joy and meaning all welled into a big clump of 'whoa', that it is called an emotion purely because of the amazingly miraculous feeling your body is paralyzed by."</div><br /><div></div><div>" 'We' want the satisfaction more than being right."</div><br /><div></div><div>"We do not live to die, we die because we have lived."</div><br /><div></div><div>"The secret to joy is that we celebrate in others' happiness and realize that everyone can be great."</div><br /><div>"Imagination is essential."</div><br /><div>"Boredom is a mere word for the freedom to let your mind wander endlessly about."</div><br /><div>"One must balance respect for one's self as well as respect for those around you."</div><br /><div>"Reach out a hand to the past; you and that of which you have reconnected with will be eternally grateful."</div><br /><div></div><div>"When you are tired, sleep."</div><br /><div></div><div>"I have found that when you respect authority, life runs very smoothly and in your favor."</div><br /><div></div><div>"Passion is a quality of motivation."</div><br /><div></div><div>"The best advice I can give is to not be afraid to define your own future."</div><br /><div></div><div>"You are the author of your story: you decide all the fine details."</div><br /><div></div><div>"O! The morn is gorgeous, a beauty in my eyes."</div><br /><div></div><div>"But what for the coincidences in life? What purpose does the meeting of people and the daily comparisons hold? For they are an entertaining addition amidst the realm of life."</div><div> </div><div></div><div>"The fresh crisp leaves, the scent of morning's air, the fresh look of awakened plants, the beauty of the morning earth; it all helps my day to become something so joyous I must give thanks."</div><div></div><div> </div><div>"I am defining my future, and by doing that, I have high expectations for myself."</div><div>(extension: Thus, I will succeed by achieving my goals and grasping my dreams.")</div><div></div><div> </div><div>"When I bath in the glorious life, I want to get down on my knees and thank God forever."</div><div> </div><div>"Sometimes you have to forget yourself to take care of those you love."</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8685260193656238797.post-70968715854757930912010-09-02T18:15:00.002-04:002010-09-02T18:19:04.451-04:00Birthday Celebration Giveaways, from KirthiMy best friend, Kirthi, has a birthday coming up! In honour of her 14th year, she is hosting a set of giveaways. <a href="http://the1bookblog.blogspot.com/2010/09/birthday-celebration-giveaway-post.html">Here</a> is the link to enter. You must be a follower of her blog <a href="http://www.blogger.com/the1bookblog.blogspot.com">Pages</a> to enter. And..happy birthday Kirthi!Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8685260193656238797.post-23897040833149374792010-08-31T20:58:00.008-04:002010-08-31T21:13:46.270-04:00Teaser Tuesday (2)<a href="http://fezig.netgates.co.uk/kimnet/kimimage/dot.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 174px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 222px; CURSOR: hand" border="0" alt="" src="http://fezig.netgates.co.uk/kimnet/kimimage/dot.jpg" /></a><br /><div>Thanks to <a href="http://shouldbereading.wordpress.com/">MizB from Should be Reading</a> for hosting this great meme. Right now I am reading the Complete Poems of Dorothy Parker. Here is an excerpt (or rather, a poem):</div><br /><div></div><div>"Star that gives a gracious dole,</div><div>What am I to choose?</div><div>Oh, will it be a shriven soul,</div><div>Or little buckled shoes?</div><br /><div></div><div>Shall I wish a wedding-ring,</div><div>Bright and thins and round,</div><div>Or plead you send me covering-</div><div>A newly spaded mound?</div><br /><div>Gentle beam shall I implore</div><div>Gold, or sailing-ships,</div><div>Or beg I hate forevermre</div><div>A pair of lying lips?</div><br /><div></div><div>Swing you low or high away</div><div>Burn you hot or dim;</div><div>My only wish I dare not say-</div><div>Lest you should grant me him."</div><div></div><br /><div>It is entitled Star Light, Star Bright-.</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8685260193656238797.post-14419572239786200922010-08-23T20:01:00.008-04:002010-09-01T19:18:33.875-04:00Birthday Shout-Out! (from Captain Jack Sparrow...)<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmzrT3qrxAGK7MQL5D0Y0FmDOiM3vp5TP8aClkX0PKYMHLfDejXag_TBLTn1dQ6L_rIXS-Yo9lswAC5lvdpxpmfgrZsEEhQpBNEpMfbzOzPvCjFKyorc1cxQwsSAlwiMiPCdVyaurzBTc/s1600/johnny+depp+captain+jack+sparrow.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 124px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 124px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5508762009625013810" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmzrT3qrxAGK7MQL5D0Y0FmDOiM3vp5TP8aClkX0PKYMHLfDejXag_TBLTn1dQ6L_rIXS-Yo9lswAC5lvdpxpmfgrZsEEhQpBNEpMfbzOzPvCjFKyorc1cxQwsSAlwiMiPCdVyaurzBTc/s200/johnny+depp+captain+jack+sparrow.jpg" /></a><br /><br /><div>A very happy birthday to Kirthi Rao!!! (of <a href="http://the1bookblog.blogspot.com/">Pages</a> and <a href="http://flyawaywriting.blogspot.com/">Dreaming in the Rain</a>, future author/environmentalist/viola player/future alumni of Hogwarts/blogger/book-reviewer and reader/Johnny Depp and Enya fan/magnificent friend extraordinare) =)</div><br /><br /><div>May all your wishes come true and hope you enjoy your special day and embark on your 14th year! Many stupendous surprises are in store...</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8685260193656238797.post-21963666148651842982010-08-23T19:50:00.005-04:002010-08-23T20:01:42.204-04:00Hebdomadal Anecdote (5)<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMMQNSQ95NNvvDe7ikiXXlQU2pv_UPNAZjiUk27amExXPZVUx22p1k0cp_ZmAnKH9PX9kSqmzjD4LXWNWsA-eDQBUXrcymS-l9ONnznrJVc5YVK48HNudoSDcBTUVaWUegWLGSCKSHVXA/s1600/h.anecdote.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 129px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 75px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5508759525734493170" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMMQNSQ95NNvvDe7ikiXXlQU2pv_UPNAZjiUk27amExXPZVUx22p1k0cp_ZmAnKH9PX9kSqmzjD4LXWNWsA-eDQBUXrcymS-l9ONnznrJVc5YVK48HNudoSDcBTUVaWUegWLGSCKSHVXA/s200/h.anecdote.jpg" /></a><br /><div>Hello Blogosphere! Guess what? (what?) Today my iPod came! I have been saving up for a while now and I finally got it! It is a yellow nano 5th generation. I am so happy! I have downloaded loads of music, though not 16 gigabytes worth.....it holds so much! It's unbelievable to think of how people make things of that nature. In social studies, we are learning of native americans and the early inhabitants of GA. To think that we have come from that to now really is amazing! For example, I think it would be nice to live with nature and relying on resources to survive and be the first people to do anything (which now that I think about it, we are the first people to do whatever we are to do...), however, living now has many advantageous qualities. The quality of life is supposedly better and we have better healthcare and life expectancy. Technology has become extremely advanced, and communication superbly more comprehendable. I guess each time period has ups and downs. Yet an interesting point my teacher made was that we are slowly regressing. Take communication for example: the early inhabitants used symbols and pictures to communicate. We, via text message, also use symbols and abbreviations for communication. I don't exactly know what this means at the moment, but it does give you something to think about, that much I know. We are supposedly supposed to move forward.....ANYWAYS, that has nothing to do with writing, but this is a side, very random anecdote. And, yep. That is all. Have a wonderful day!</div><div> </div><div> </div><div>P.S. Btw, in case you were wondering, I took a momentary break from writing quotes and now I have continued. The estimated date of when I will post them is approximately.....the middle of September.</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8685260193656238797.post-51769039841658298972010-08-21T10:43:00.007-04:002010-08-21T10:48:49.476-04:00Erasure Limerick<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDCMXYOp5sPqNfNcJYkpEuNldpiehS3-WSW4j2Vr0Uxffyfq8_APSnWsYdu5TCYZIIN9EK1PEwjcUPX-s3U-W0T8bBeBvxBiqZLwAqNXPZNQksCkUBeLroEu9EW64eHmef-WRCKJifym0/s1600/erasure.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 180px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 200px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5507875061017658146" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDCMXYOp5sPqNfNcJYkpEuNldpiehS3-WSW4j2Vr0Uxffyfq8_APSnWsYdu5TCYZIIN9EK1PEwjcUPX-s3U-W0T8bBeBvxBiqZLwAqNXPZNQksCkUBeLroEu9EW64eHmef-WRCKJifym0/s200/erasure.jpg" /></a><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqIZT8AqyX9VvfKipS3qX7rKx2KLwnwUMjP9YQNpXE4n0JRSdjA1hSdVK6KvGgAEjdh-2lxlJfGSkZYeNvySZjoMuN0s8yoCPIAWk8dPME7Mr3t9FunDf7E4kSl_BUz1rZZ2X7uvuxvmM/s1600/erasure.jpg"></a><br /><br /><div>Where do all the erasures go, that we sweep away?</div><br /><div>Where do those hidden words go, to creep back out and play?</div><br /><div>The things we write stay on the page,</div><br /><div>Yet the erasures disassemble and disengage,</div><br /><div>So where do all the useless words go, that we don't bother to say?</div></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8685260193656238797.post-29654842869350146982010-08-17T21:40:00.002-04:002010-08-17T21:42:53.718-04:00Escape<img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 133px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 89px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5506559316997249314" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiu8z-kUBkCRXNUaLLme6hXeoeEdQp7STK19zc34M2YPCVwC1IxSgqTqEsnBR6E3oljMq6KMdXS0sJGXH5WWEDjP9TOSIzrr3dSpe2sVMYEXldy_Fjk9j4mkOZPEj3OpVs8xetDdmWVEGg/s320/hiking.bmp" /><br /><div>If I could<br />I'd pack a bag</div><div>With pens and pencils</div><div>paper and book</div><div>and all else I'd need to</div><div>survive </div><div>and I 'd go venturing</div><div>in comfy clothes </div><div>And stay for a while</div><div>I'd leave a note</div><div>to let behind</div><div>a clue of where I'm going</div><div>And then I'd be gone</div><div>Off to a place</div><div>Of serenity</div><div>and self-discovery</div><div>And peace</div><div>A quiet silence of the mind</div><div>Amidst the natural beauty of the world</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8685260193656238797.post-73128552417632055942010-08-17T21:34:00.005-04:002010-08-17T21:39:45.937-04:00A Natural Wish<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6j8BkJStPjWfem-D8sJG6vEFq4hYQkrFkAIx6bYzHG7XaEV6OoR9xI9C_Wscv93-JN0Zf8Ou8AfcX_uBZ53BFq1EQFBJJUk3aTdWJlGkNqmmExx49Qpp44_s5HrE7nBQ-XXphcBKsh_o/s1600/sky.bmp"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 150px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 112px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5506558494404653730" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6j8BkJStPjWfem-D8sJG6vEFq4hYQkrFkAIx6bYzHG7XaEV6OoR9xI9C_Wscv93-JN0Zf8Ou8AfcX_uBZ53BFq1EQFBJJUk3aTdWJlGkNqmmExx49Qpp44_s5HrE7nBQ-XXphcBKsh_o/s320/sky.bmp" /></a><br /><div>I wish I could capture</div><div>The essence of </div><div>the crape myrtle </div><div>and </div><div>the berry bush</div><div>In the sun</div><div>To frame exactly</div><div>the picture I see now</div><div>and to </div><div>find a vase to </div><div>capture the sunlight </div><div>hitting the plants,</div><div>shining their beauty to</div><div>the world </div><div>and to seize</div><div>the sky in the background </div><div>forever embed it in </div><div>my mind</div><div>to find a way</div><div>to fill the vase</div><div>if the vase is my eyes </div><div>and I behold beauty</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8685260193656238797.post-1152907844886980842010-08-17T21:25:00.005-04:002010-08-17T21:34:46.379-04:00Anger<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgI1Mnt2FEaGVVQN6FHkg1mZe2hiHH98b2zrmuM1M6gtzZadWsSN-NLXU05VdC_yNoy4IF04LKcHhMJ4PS0f7Np_y9QbgEtzh-qP0M3OsWTiuFGXCGR-3Y1oZZh6CgmtQ8zWCrKX_-zBT4/s1600/shatter.bmp"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 150px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 113px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5506556923759593666" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgI1Mnt2FEaGVVQN6FHkg1mZe2hiHH98b2zrmuM1M6gtzZadWsSN-NLXU05VdC_yNoy4IF04LKcHhMJ4PS0f7Np_y9QbgEtzh-qP0M3OsWTiuFGXCGR-3Y1oZZh6CgmtQ8zWCrKX_-zBT4/s320/shatter.bmp" /></a><br /><div>Sometimes I want<br />to scream so loud<br />to shatter the ground<br />to crumble the mountains to destroy the peace</div><div>to let loose all emotion</div><div>And full-out scream</div><div>I want to let the world know </div><div>the unknown anger</div><div>Burried inside my veins</div><div>To let it escape</div><div>And for one second be calm</div><div>Relaxed</div><div>Serene</div><div>To have a chance at being free of </div><div>Stress, preoblems, carelessness</div><div>To be insouciant inside</div><div>And live without something </div><div>to tie me down</div><div>Without the welded metal</div><div>Clinging to my insides</div><div>I want to volcanicly erupt</div><div>Out of the frozen shell anger</div><div>Molds me into</div><div>I want to feel all the heat rush out </div><div>Of me and</div><div>be replaced by the </div><div>sweet cold.</div><div>Yet I cannot be that selfish</div><div>I cannot do this for reasons </div><div>Of higher importance </div><div>Than me</div><div>But can you imagine</div><div>Holding all that </div><div>in?</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8685260193656238797.post-20547557884652819242010-08-17T21:11:00.010-04:002010-08-17T21:25:03.138-04:00Glittering, Glistening, Sparkling, Shine<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdmU_B-_mIJdLzBf2ZQRE628Te_QZe-qS_0z8QZnri0IPW3AeCidyJsvexfw3CxFlksGEAbS1BqwiHeamvM-wTWw3-_uFloa3pxFDcQmWK30QiS7rLKwJiW9KWZjsBPRjGqHhgaA3mwr8/s1600/glistening.bmp"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 143px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 107px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5506554302298971970" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdmU_B-_mIJdLzBf2ZQRE628Te_QZe-qS_0z8QZnri0IPW3AeCidyJsvexfw3CxFlksGEAbS1BqwiHeamvM-wTWw3-_uFloa3pxFDcQmWK30QiS7rLKwJiW9KWZjsBPRjGqHhgaA3mwr8/s320/glistening.bmp" /></a><br /><br />A patch of light, cuaght up in the sun <div>Waiting, waiting, just for someone to spot it, to admire it, and to notice it<br />Basking in its brilliance the sparkle of light shines its radiance</div><div>Glittering, glistening, sparkling, shine.</div><br /><div></div><div>A lone star, visible to us as one</div><div>Twinkling aloft many others</div><div>Guiding our drowsiness into soft songs of sleep</div><div>Sweet dreams in the magic night air<br />Glittering, glistening, sparkling, shine.</div><br /><div></div><div>A man gazes into a girl's eyes</div><div>Love swirls around the jubilant couple</div><div>Entranced, enlocked in each others' hearts,</div><div>Emotions pour through the glimmer in her gorgeous eyes that are<br />Glittering, glistening, sparkling, shine.<br /></div><div>A shaft of light, simmering in the comfortable atmosphere</div><div>Comes through the window</div><div>Beckoning a wandering eye, to catch up to it, poses a challenge to </div><div>Catch its radiance amidst the struggles of the day, and you see it </div><div>Glittering, glistening, sparkling, shine.</div><br /><div>A new idea, rambling on and on</div><div>Genius, wandering, flows through specks of pure creativity</div><div>Mind tinkering, forming, and evolving</div><div>Wonders are introduced to the world</div><div>Glittering, glistening, sparkling, shine.</div><br /><div>All these come and I appreciate</div><div>Bathing in the glory of the small miracles of life</div><div>I am created and defined by what and how I live and I choose </div><div>To merit the minute wonders of my world, therefore I am</div><div>Glittering, glistening, sparkling, shine.s</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8685260193656238797.post-18242824806296113412010-08-17T20:56:00.011-04:002010-08-31T20:58:48.206-04:00Teaser Tuesday (1)<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgd2U-iyhjlvb5Wi8swlHz9geBunr-L3uXeFPiJgPex68wkJQutQihGX_xW8M3Vui0Q3soQz30fEWmZvt1-x8FBSWfZ1GloBWtn-wE6e7dY_C99mvfB-xBeAOqUl5hbbmFTtmcoyC1CjuE/s1600/the+sky+is+everywhere.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 211px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5506551252447550946" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgd2U-iyhjlvb5Wi8swlHz9geBunr-L3uXeFPiJgPex68wkJQutQihGX_xW8M3Vui0Q3soQz30fEWmZvt1-x8FBSWfZ1GloBWtn-wE6e7dY_C99mvfB-xBeAOqUl5hbbmFTtmcoyC1CjuE/s320/the+sky+is+everywhere.jpg" /></a><br /><div>Ok, so this is a writing blog, yet I get much of my insight from reading, so why not give credit to books?!? Thanks to<a href="http://shouldbereading.wordpress.com/"> MizB from Should Be Reading </a>for hosting this wonderful meme.<br />So here goes. My first official meme that I did not create. I am a follower! =)<br /><br />Now I am reading <u>The Sky is Everywhere</u> by <em>Jandy Nelson. </em>It is an <strong>amazing</strong> book! To find out more, and to see the convincing post by my best friend that led me to read it, click <a href="http://the1bookblog.blogspot.com/2010/08/review-sky-is-everywhere.html">here</a>.<br />And now, the teaser:<br /></div><div></div><div>"I start to think about all the things I haven't said since Bailey died, all the words stowed deep in my heart, in our orange bedroom, all the words in the whole world that aren't said after someone dies because they are too sad, too enraged, too devastated, too guilty, to come out-all of them begin to course inside me like a lunatic river. "<br /><br />That is one of the more saddened parts of the book. There are many happy parts and also very sad parts. All of it is deep and emotional and intense. Definitely on my top list of "to-read" books.</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8685260193656238797.post-20399646961758700672010-08-02T14:27:00.025-04:002010-08-05T19:27:54.107-04:00The Last Doll<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8mLPIlGeV0w87JcWloDFG7xgp6FvfHkDpGEKXUzC409Bxgr8tbQAbjgRqw1_gkhHAsa84coum5YENltKQqE1hxU3kExTeUsnutGzOfOSwzRiaWVcHknTcb06bf-IXaLFdDEsCixW1C44/s1600/the+last+doll-+competition.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 213px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5500895323357259842" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8mLPIlGeV0w87JcWloDFG7xgp6FvfHkDpGEKXUzC409Bxgr8tbQAbjgRqw1_gkhHAsa84coum5YENltKQqE1hxU3kExTeUsnutGzOfOSwzRiaWVcHknTcb06bf-IXaLFdDEsCixW1C44/s320/the+last+doll-+competition.jpg" /></a><br /><br /><br /><div><em>Inspired by Frances Hodgson Burnett's novel, <u>A Little Princess, </u>in which at one point Sara Crewe receives "the last doll" and mentions writing a poem about it.</em></div><br /><br /><div>Childhood memories<br />Stored away,</div><div>In the toy box,</div><div>In the attic,</div><div>Covered in cobwebs;</div><div>Lost is the spirited imagination.</div><br /><div>In the eve<br />A grown lady, </div><div>Lying in bed,</div><div>Thinks of the past,<br />Igniting the carefree soul</div><div>Of the child.</div><br /><div>Tinkering up the stairs,</div><div>Into the chest,</div><div>The toys relive memories</div><div>And set out to play.</div><br /><div>In the bottom,</div><div>Lies lonely,</div><div>A single toy</div><div>That once lived.</div><div>Yet her life was cut short,</div><div>For the child</div><div>Was snatched from her childhood;</div><div>Gone were the days of insouciant playfulness.</div><div>She had matured,</div><div>Aged in an instant.</div><br /><div>But tonight is special,<br />She lives on in imagination.</div><br /><div>The last doll.</div><div>Hidden, buried at the bottom,</div><div>Rises up and comes to play;</div><div>Today she is free.</div><br /><div>Silk ribbons curl round her hair,</div><div>Lace borders her sleevse,</div><div>A golden locket circles her neck,</div><div>A mauve frock outlines her features.</div><div>Pale blue eyes woven with glass,</div><div>That once were sullen and empty,</div><div>Sparkle in the sunlight of the child tonight.</div><div>Rosy cheeks become jolly;</div><div>Her lips form a smile,<br />She dances and frolicks,<br />The last doll lives.</div><br /><div>She marked a point </div><div>When the child grew.</div><div>No longer able to play,</div><div>The last doll's heart was at rest.</div><br /><div>That twas the night she reigned on,</div><div>Regal and royal;</div><div>Grand things happened,</div><div>But once. </div><div>For the the child ceased,</div><div>And the doll slept once more.</div><div>Waiting to play,</div><div>Always waiting: </div><div>The last doll.</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8685260193656238797.post-29393728186351672042010-07-19T14:13:00.005-04:002010-07-20T11:49:05.223-04:00Pencil<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzd50B0O9QJe7pl32LRpIN0F0ZG5ceSB-nfELMKa0N2GCSzBh7ahWuYRVgLAoLgoSDjhpyVm4NyztSeOZ70f0BxIi23S6K_V8d30OaVGDYLqpjn1tHZbKvTzZU6lcIbUna9GmwuIROqXY/s1600/pencil.bmp"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 124px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 113px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5496015979326888674" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzd50B0O9QJe7pl32LRpIN0F0ZG5ceSB-nfELMKa0N2GCSzBh7ahWuYRVgLAoLgoSDjhpyVm4NyztSeOZ70f0BxIi23S6K_V8d30OaVGDYLqpjn1tHZbKvTzZU6lcIbUna9GmwuIROqXY/s320/pencil.bmp" /></a><br /><div>Dancing on imagination,</div><br /><div>Twirling, spinning,</div><br /><div>Into beautiful formations,</div><br /><div>Creating </div><br /><div>People, places, stories,</div><br /><div>New lifetimes;</div><br /><div></div><br /><div>Emotions,</div><br /><div>Go wild,</div><br /><div>In an amazing,</div><br /><div>Breathingtaking way,</div><br /><div>To produce a sensation</div><br /><div>So magnificent,</div><br /><div>You are,</div><br /><div>Dancing on imagination.</div><br /><div></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8685260193656238797.post-84659037331503144002010-07-19T14:12:00.002-04:002010-07-20T11:45:23.849-04:00Chatuga Where's I'd Rather Be<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZC6I9kohRMJnzqA3c2Ogfx5l31X9zcQsA4NE7pewxxS5pJSKmVhtYBQKspkvdxCDQBmFLv2cQiuaSeEXtA8WNFTu2i45y23sH2KlRgrRT1nKbgeHHPcwa-y9QLDJwqRvvuvFJyi4b4h8/s1600/campchatuga.bmp"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 142px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 36px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5496015017319963346" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZC6I9kohRMJnzqA3c2Ogfx5l31X9zcQsA4NE7pewxxS5pJSKmVhtYBQKspkvdxCDQBmFLv2cQiuaSeEXtA8WNFTu2i45y23sH2KlRgrRT1nKbgeHHPcwa-y9QLDJwqRvvuvFJyi4b4h8/s320/campchatuga.bmp" /></a><br /><div>Sorry I have not posted in a while. I have been at summer camp: <a href="http://www.campchatuga.com/">Camp Chatuga</a>! So now that I am back, I will post some more.</div><br /><div></div><br /><div>P.S. This is a really short post. More posts to come.</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8685260193656238797.post-36263039162589051152010-07-03T21:10:00.011-04:002010-07-03T21:22:18.444-04:00Inspiration for Writing<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTCZPWqj9FhaGqo3laBI5xjUizv9Sn3YhP0Ha1G9jQeqLiCvkTunWCA9A6jDwAylMR_FKSC1r27wd_enz1xOKjy10Ch_DZPjdavfN5iCnuUjTqAHJxpD6_WITSXkkBh9GW9RpDL1IONjc/s1600/camp.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 137px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 103px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5489855255479591362" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTCZPWqj9FhaGqo3laBI5xjUizv9Sn3YhP0Ha1G9jQeqLiCvkTunWCA9A6jDwAylMR_FKSC1r27wd_enz1xOKjy10Ch_DZPjdavfN5iCnuUjTqAHJxpD6_WITSXkkBh9GW9RpDL1IONjc/s320/camp.jpg" /></a><br /><div>When you decide to write, how does it come to you? What inspires you? What is the force that brings you and writing together as one? For me, it is atmosphere. Where I am, and who I am around. The setting, the beauty, the peacefulness. All is taken into account when I decide to write. Normally inspiration strikes, a power not to be reckoned with, only appreciated; yet I am most likely to be in an area that is gorgeous, or has hidden beauty. A story, a deeper meaning, a postcard, picturesque scene. For example, I wrote my poem, <a href="http://letterstowordstostories.blogspot.com/2010/04/rolling-hillsance.html">Rolling Hills</a>, while on a scenic highway on a road trip, while looking at the window at the magnificent rolling hills of the country of Tennessee. All together, I am inspired by my surroundings, the people, places, landscape, and beauty that I see. What inspires you?</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2