Fears-Revised

I reach the door and my knees wobble.
I enter class knowing that I'll be called on-
and it happens. The professor calls name.
I know that my is face red and
my voice is shaky- uncertain.
My fears come to the forefront of my mind.
Will they laugh at me? Is my answer wrong?
How can I get out of this situation?
Everyone looks at me, waiting for my answer.
I mumble something quietly,
hoping I answered sufficiently-
hoping I answered correctly.
Eventually, another name is called-
and I am set free.

Saturday Morning- Revised

The sun peers in the room through the blinds, greeting us. Even though it is late morning, it is quiet. Everyone is still asleep from the late Friday night antics. The string of lights above my bed calm me. My mind is awake, but I am not ready to get out of bed. The warmth from under my blankets, and the soft sheets against my skin are too comforting for me to leave. My homework sits on my desk, waiting to be done, but dreamland is begging me to stay. The desire to stay in bed for ten more minutes outweighs the oncoming need to read about statistic formulas. I roll over and hesitantly look at the clock, and I'm relieved to see it's earlier than I expected. I roll back over, only to notice my roommate has done the same. Saturday mornings are a time of rest, and not a time of stress.

Matriarch- Revised

Your limbs tremble in the wind.
Extending and reaching out-
like a mother for her child.

Queen Anne's Lace

White flowers tower above me,
and it fills me with peace.
The green grass lies below me,
and I know I am safe.
Nature above me,
and nature below me.
I am surrounded by color.
Just like the pure white flower
under the sunrise.

Easter Poem

Holy Thursday

We sing Latin in the dark,
and the Tabernacle is carried out.
The singing stops, and silence
fills the room.
This solemn service, a reminder
of what was done to save us.
He died so that our sins
can be forgiven
and that we can live
eternally in Heaven.

American Sonnet

Spring Sonnet

The snow falls white, surrounding us in cold.
We all wish the harsh winter will end soon.
The darkness drowns our frigid spirits-
shorter days bring tired attitudes.
This season brings grey skies and grey spirits.
My body shivers as the wind hits me,
and I just wish for spring flowers to bloom.

But winter is not everlasting-
the sun's rays peek out from behind the clouds.
There is hope of seeing green again.
The birds will chirp and fly through the sky,
and nature will start anew again.
Trees will have leaves and flowers grow petals.
With spring, there will be colors again,
and with spring, there will be happiness.

Villanelle: REVISED

The In Between

Is there something between heaven and hell?
Or is it black and white- no middle grey?
A place for believers, but those who fell.

When the Catholic church rings its mighty bell.
Is St. Peter going to make us stay
In the region between heaven and hell?

The intense burden of a soul to sell,
of whether or not I will find my way-
A place for believers, but those who fell.

Purgatory is not an endless cell,
it won't require an eternal stay.
There is something between heaven and hell.

We have not fallen under Satan's spell,
God won't allow us to be in his play.
Believers will go, as will those who fell.

We have to believe that all will be well.
God will call us to be with Him someday.
We will go in between heaven and hell.
We will be believers, and those who fell.

For Bailey:

Your fluffy tail will no longer wag;

no more dog treats buried in blankets.

Our summer walks, and car rides-

ended too soon. 

A dog's love is better than most.

Assignment for 3/2

He returned home, to a silent house
wrapped in darkness, late at night.
He thought everyone had gone
to sleep, dreaming peacefully in their beds.
His wife and niece, safe and sound, home and warm.
So to bed he went, content with the day.
He awoke the next morning, to eerie
silence. A shudder ran through him.
His wife lay still next to him,
dead. Panic sparked through him;
he ran to his niece to see if the same fate
greeted her. He turned his head away from
the gruesome scene before him.
His wife and niece, murdered at home.
The murderer left the bodies as they
were, sleeping in their beds,
which they thought were safe.
His family, slain under his roof.
He was supposed to protect them
from this terror- from this fate.

Assignment for February Break

Building Freedom

Many unknown secrets kept from the people.

How people were traded in our Nation’s Capital.

The National Mall- a tourist destination,

Was once used as a market, for selling,

And trading people- trading and selling slaves.

The Yellow House, burdened as a slave market.

William H. Williams- The owner of the house.

He made so much money, he had two slave ships-

The Tribune and the Uncas, where people began

Their journey towards incarceration and

Complete discrimination. To the Yellow House,

Where they were treated as property, not as humans.

The Yellow House- dark and damp. Bars on windows,

And limbs of slaves chained to furniture.

A female slave, beaten without mercy. Cries heard,

Throughout slave pens. The President himself-

George Washington- A slave owner and a slave breeder.

Many other Presidents followed in owning slaves.

Slaves in the Nation’s Capital, building the city

That is the cause of their imprisonment. They build

White walls that will bring freedom to white people,

Building freedom that they will never know.

Valentine's Day

Love,
not between two lovers,
but between two friends.
Watching movies,
and baking cookies.
Chocolate comforts
our single hearts,
and romantic comedies
remind us of what we don't have.
Forever alone we say,
hoping it isn't true.

Assignment for Feb. 3

Twinkle Lights

Lights bright and flickering,
surrounding our room in dim light.
Eerie to some, but comforting to us.
We sit and talk about everything,
under the mysterious glow.


Popcorn

We watch movies,
and during intense scenes,
we crunch on it.
The dramatic cinema,
captivating us to eat more.
The butter taste of popcorn,
habitual, and almost addicting.


Skyrim

Colorful buttons, being pressed.
A joystick, grasped in fury.
A curse word or two in frustration.
Enemies approach and the music changes.
I lean forwards toward the screen.
Sword thrashing, and spells casting.
Intense battling over land.
The victor stands, the enemy fallen.
I save the game, securing my win.

Crayons

My hand flutters over the box,
all the colors waiting to be chosen,
But I'm searching for a specific one.
A purple, the color of violets.
All of them want to be chosen,
hoping for my fingers to pluck them out.
The sparkly ones, the neon ones, and the metallic ones.
Finally, I see the perfect shade.
I grab it, and press it to paper.
The picture begins to come to life.

Writing Plan:

William Stafford offers some good advise in A Way of Writing. One piece of advice I liked was to find a time where no one can interrupt you, specifically early in the morning. I like this because my favorite time to write is Saturday morning after breakfast. There is something about writing in the morning that allows me to think clearly and have a calmer day than I would without writing.

I also liked how he said "I must be willing to fail." When I write, I just write. If it turns out to be bad, then it is bad, but at least I wrote down my honest thoughts using words that came to me in the moment. If we try to hard to make the writing sound professional, then we might be over thinking our writing. We can't be afraid to fail, we must be honest in our writing.

Stafford also says, "I will accept anything that occurs to me." When I write, I write whatever comes in my head at that moment and roll with it. Whether it be my brothers, what is going on outside my window, or my roommate, I write about it. Then I ramble and connect the main topic to other smaller topics. These branching topics can make the writing work, or not. Again, we must not be afraid to fail.

As for finding time to write, I just write when I can. Sometimes I write after chapel, sometimes I write after breakfast, sometimes before dinner. It just depends on my schedule that day. Honestly, sometimes I don't have time to write. I know I have to make time, but I can't always do that.

Assignment for 27 January 2016

College Life

Empty, lonely, space. Above my head,

there lies your empty bed.

And I sit here, missing you.

Clean and messy both at once;

different, but yet the same.

Roommates, but also friends.

Wrinkles of fabric sitting there,

Dirty clothes, bundled in the corner.

They sit in the basket-waiting.

Introverted, quiet, and shy.

People sit and wonder why.

They need to know, I'm not afraid.

Family

Laughter and smiles a distant memory.

When can I go back to you?

I am not happy here anymore.

The clock counts down,

the fans watch, in excited tension.

You shoot, and you score.

Loud arguing all around,

the sound of hate? Or love?

It's the sound of family.

Fluffy, and soft wagging tail.

Cute, black little nose.

A dog's love is better than most.

Nature

Sun pouring down behind clouds.

Grey skies and chilly winds.

The white snow melts in my hands.

Silent, dark, and eerie night.

Stars shine in the darkness.

Night is welcoming and peaceful.

Still snow, but not all grass

My favorite weather is here.

In between winter and spring.

Music

Music filled the room
as the baton lifted
in the conductor's hands.
Melodies and harmonies
blended together.
A beautiful sound
flowed around the room.
A diminuendo created
to let the trumpeter solo.
The last chord of Mozart
echoed on listening ears.
The performers stared
in amazement at each other.
The pure emotion and passion
brought together a group
of dynamic people.
As only music can do.

The Poster 

A poster hung above her wall
of New York City
illuminated by the lights,
and stars filled the sky.
It glowed;
purple and blue.
The city called to her,
she wanted exploration-
wanted to find excitement.
She loved the noisy
and busy streets.
All she knew was
her small town.
Quiet and peaceful.
She loved both-
her town
and the city.
She didn't want to choose
something new
over something
she knew.
Eventually, she will have to choose,
but not now-
not yet.