Poems :)

OCEAN (HAIKU)

Ocean is lovely
With wonderful scenery
Not with tsunami

BARKING DOGS (LUNE)

Dogs barking loudly
Announcing
Unknown visitors

 


FLOWER (CINQUAIN)

Flower
Very pleasing
In full bloom
Varied colours and fragrance
Delicate

ANGER (SEPTOLET)
Yelling and screaming
Words hurled
In anger

Tempers flare
Damaged pride
Feelings so
Hurt

SANTA CLAUS (ACROSTIC)

Sack with presents on his back
Always has a big smile on his face
Noble legendary good old soul
Trying to please us all with his treasures
As Christmas approaches

Christmas Eve is his time for splendor
Letting his ‘HO HO HO’ be heard all night
And how the children wait to see him
Unless you've been naughty
Season’s greetings, Santa!

Little Red Riding Hood (Grandma’s P.O.V)

       A while ago, you would never believe what happened to me; I will never forget it because, if it wasn’t for the lumberjack, I would not be alive to tell this story.

      It started of as a regular day for everyone else, but not so good for me. I didn’t feel so well on that day, so I went to the doctor, and they gave me some medicine that would make the pain go away. Unfortunately, I wasn’t feeling any better.  So I called one of my grandchild, Little Red Riding Hood, because I live alone.

      My grandchild came up with the idea of her taking bread and wine up to my house through the woods. Of course I said yes as I was tired of being so lonely, and I didn’t really feel like going out for food so I said, “yes, that would be great”.

      So she was off on her journey. I was really excited because I haven’t seen my granddaughter for some time and I miss her. Anyway, she told me that she was walking along the right path that her mother told her to go along with, until a big bear approached her.

     She was not afraid because she has never seen one before in real life, so she was very calm.  The bear asked her many questions like, “Where are you going?” or “What do you have in the basket?”. She wasn’t aware of the danger, so she answered the questions and told the bear what she had in the basket and told exactly where I lived.

      Little Red Riding Hood did not know that the bear was very sly and sneaky, and was very hungry. Then the bear asked Little Red, “Wouldn’t it be nice to get some flowers, instead of just bread and wine?”, and she said, “Well I suppose it would be nice, she hasn’t seen me in a while”. So the bear tricked her, to follow the other path to get some flowers and then follow Little Red Riding Hood to come to my house.

      A couple of minutes later, I heard a knock on my door, thinking it was my granddaughter I opened the door, but what I saw was far from my granddaughter. All I saw was this big brown bear. The next thing you know it just went pitch black, I think I was just swallowed...

      I was thinking to myself that I would have enough time for my granddaughter to get here before being digested or before anything else happens. At that time, I felt everything the bear did. I felt him put my clothes on and lay in my bed. I even tried to hit and break his stomach but I guess my hits weren’t hard enough.

       As time goes by, I heard little red walked in and she came closer to the bed. I tried to yell and scream for help but I guess they weren’t loud enough. So I just silenced myself to see what I can hear, and all I can hear is the bear pretending to be me in the whole conversation with my granddaughter.
   
       Within few minutes, the bear swallowed  Little Red Riding Hood too. We hugged as we haven’t seen each other in a while, but we also hugged for our safety. We were both scared for our lives and we both thought that we were going to die in a bear’s belly, but we both tried to stay positive and think that somebody was going to hopefully come for us and save us.

   Soon after, we both heard the bear fall asleep. So we tried to break out and yelled out for help. This time since it was both of us, a friendly lumberjack came to our rescue. We were relieved that somebody actually heard our cries and came to save us.

   The lumberjack was very brave. He told us to both to move aside, because he was going to cut the bear right down the middle. After some time, we finally saw daylight. I was really weak and I had no energy when the lumberjack helped me out of the bear, but I was really thankful that we were out of the bear’s belly.

     Without telling her to, Little Red Riding Hood went to get some heavy rocks and filled the bear’s stomach with it, and then stitched the stomach back up. When the bear was awake, he got up and walked two steps and then collapsed. A few moments later he was dead because the rocks were that heavy.

        Later on, the lumberjack, my granddaughter, and I had a celebration at my daughter’s house, for the lumberjack who saved us from being digested in the bear’s belly. In the end, I stayed with my daughter and granddaughter for a couple of months until I could get back on my feet again, to live by myself.

   The moral to the story of is that children must obey their parents and they must never talk to strangers. Even a very friendly stranger is capable of having bad intentions.

THE END :)
   

"Such a character."

He's the strangest man I've ever seen. I don't know his name nor from where he comes from. I see him every time I go to the supermarket near my house. The first time I saw him, my mother told me that he was a little crazy, as it seems he was a drug addict before. I don't know if he's still one, but he doesn't seem to be one. He is tall and slim with dark olive skin and short dark hair but he has a fine and long wisp of braided hair that sprouts behind his head. He has a long scar on his forehead and tattoos all over his body, and even on his face. He has gold teeth and a piercing in his septum. I always see him dressed in black clothes and he always wear glasses and a sport hat. He is not an old man but I think that he is in his early thirties. I can read traces of an old beauty in his thin face. All of time that I've seen him, he always has been of good humor and had a big smile. Moreover, he likes to talk a lot with people whom he meet in places where he pass. My mother said that he was a radio's announcer once and he was very famous, but the fame took him to bad way and he started to consume drugs in parties until he lost everything including his mind. However, I don't see as a "crazy man", because he doesn't behave of that way, although he sometimes says things without sense, but I do too, and I'm not crazy. Moreover, I've seen him working in other places like doing announcement in front of a well known building of motorcycles's sale. I think that he is very hard working and one day his luck will change. All in all, I don't know much about him, but I see him as a hard working person and I hope that he never lose his smile and his humor, because when that will happen, the supermarket will be less fun. It's rare to find such a character :)

Writer's Reflection

Certain people are born to be writers or groomed to be one. It all depends on the persistence and passion of the writer. While being a writer has major advantages, it also has its own challenges. Anything without challenges is boring because challenges mould and train us. Some challenges can drain the life out of us, though, which is why it is good to enlist help from others when we experience them. The comprehensive editing processes, have strengthened my writing abilities. We have to be concise, original and clear in writing. I employed the same organizational and writing style for every assignment, but now I consider both audience and writing genre. In high school, the difference between my first and final draft was often negligible. Thanks to our peer review sessions, I edit my work more thoroughly, and I do not hesitate to ask for assistance. Now, my writing is more concise and dynamic. As a writer, my greatest strength is my ability to organize my arguments. In high school, I made extensive outlines for all of my essays. And in this class, I continued to build on this skill, often outlining and rearranging entire paragraphs. This semester I became aware of my continued use of polysyllabic and superfluous words in order to give my papers a more authoritative and erudite tone. I learned, however, that precise and succinct words are always preferable. One weakness of mine as a writer is my tendency to mix up tenses, and use too many words when fewer would suffice. This course made me more cognizant of these bad habits and the same writing style I often fall back on. In the future, I hope to correct my grammatical errors, and to improve the speed with which I articulate my thoughts. I do, however, understand writing is a long process and shouldn’t be rushed. I also intend to try different writing styles, and to learn to write sentences using more efficient words. I believe these goals are accomplished only through practice. And yet, despite these weaknesses, I believe my writing skills have improved because of this class, have enjoyed being a part of it :)

"Writing can be self-deceiving as it can be self-revealing." ~ Luckhurst & Singleton

"Writing can be self-deceiving as it can be self-revealing." is a quote by Mary Luckhurst & John Singleton. This quote actually means that we write things making ourselves believe something that isn't really true, but at the same time we get to reveal or express our innermost thoughts and emotions through writing. We all have methods of coping with what we don’t understand, of dealing with painful situations in our lives. One therapeutic technique that helps us heal in times of confusion, broken hearts, and deepest loss is simple but so very powerful is writing. From my point of view, writing allows us make sense of things. When we don’t know what to do, putting words on paper feels tangible. When we don’t feel like talking, writing lets us speak in a solitary way. The page is a never-ending space for depositing our concerns and fears and hopes. Exploring our emotions via writing keeps all our questions and possible answers accessible. We make concrete progress over time. We review and rework and eventually move beyond whatever we’re working to process. Besides, writing cultivates your authentic self. To be authentic we have to understand who we are, what we want to be, and how we want to fit in the world. When we write for ourselves, it can propel us to explore our inner self, our journey, our struggles, our inspirations, and our purpose. As you let your words flow out of your head and heart, it can take you to those places where you can boldly ask, "Why you are on the path that you are on? Is this what you want? Do you like where you are going?" Through writing it's easier to explore who we are and where we want to take our journey next. It's a way to revisit the past, connect with the present, and draw a map for the future. Writing allows us to consciously put these positive reaffirmations on paper to visualize our destiny. The ability to visualize our dreams creates a mindset that makes our ambitions possible. Understanding exactly what we want is the foundation for our success. Overall, writing expresses who you are as a person. Sometimes nothing feels better than belting out a series of run-on sentences. Do it. Nobody’s judging :)

What am I? ~ A poem

I resemble a poem. I feel no limitations and I can be creative without taking risks. I can be evocative just like poetry; filled with intense emotions such as joy, sorrow, anger, catharsis, love and the like. I am also imaginative and descriptive. My life has a focused purpose, just like a poem. Poetry is created from the soul, it feeds from your emotions and squeezes out every ounce of creativity from your delicate bones. It cannot be summed up or critiqued in a few short words. The only thing that matters is the connection between the reader and how the writer portrays in his/her masterpiece. Poetry is that desire deep down in my heart. It latches on and unravels, planting its seeds into my veins. Throughout these veins, talent begins to flow. It lets my imagination run wild, after all, it is my canvas. Words your paint, you my friend the artist. An artist filled with inspiration, ready to burst. Poetry can be written in any way shape or form. It has no mistakes, wrong answers or rules. It is solely a window to your perception, which I cannot define. My own attempt at getting at the essence of poetry will be more humble; poetry is the creation of meaningful beauty by means of words, which thus both create and express who or what we are. There are no limits as to the subject matter of poetry. Whatever our human hearts and minds can contemplate or brood over or entertain is fair game. Such is the power of poetry. The trick is to stop resisting it. The trick is to recognize, implicitly, that the language of poetry is simply our ordinary language renewed and intensified. It is as if something were being said and thus created and brought into reality for the first time. When it comes to a good poem, each time is the first time. The words become ours. We become the words. So that only after things are what we say they are, can they really be what they are to begin with. So give it a try and see for yourself, only then will we ultimately understand poetry :)