Reading the Last Page

Posted: December 15, 2015 by hannahglide in Miscellany
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One of my favorite authors is James Patterson. Ever since the days when I’d go to the library to pick out books for my summer reading list I have always chosen mysteries. The way James Patterson is able to guide a reader one way and have the ending a completely different twist intrigues me. I love how I can predict one thing and end up having and ending I did not expect. When finished reading, I always look back and see the obvious clues that were not so obvious at the time. For example, I read Invisible over the summer and it had the most surprising ending ever. I do have a habit of reading the last page of a book before I get to it. I almost like knowing what happens before so I can make an effort to understand the character better before they die. I usually read the end in romance novels so I can see throughout the book how their relationship develops. I hold off until the end for mystery novels so I can try to figure them out myself. Most people cannot believe I read the last page, but sometimes it just makes the characters better while reading the book.

Irene

Posted: December 15, 2015 by thatmomogirl in Poetry
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“You’ll never know how much I love you”

my grandmother said to me.

If I could hear that one more time

I know I would be free.
Because even though you’ve been gone,

I feel you everyday.

But that doesn’t take away the words

I wish I could hear you say.
My twelve-year-old heart didn’t understand

the wisdom you gave to them.

And here I stand five years from then

wishing I could hear it again.

Reflections on Christmas

Posted: December 15, 2015 by reaganlyle in Reflections
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Christmas is coming soon, which is really exciting. The only thing keeping me going through school is Christmas break. Christmas music puts me in a really good mood. It makws me happy, and I am not exactly sure why. I enjoy this music, but I am not the kind of person who would listen to it all year round. I find it fun to sing Christmas songs with my friends because it always brings about laughter and happiness. Christmas is overall good, but there is one aspect about it that gets on my nerves. This is consumerism. There is so much of this in the United States; everyone wants to buy everything, and the only thing people care about is the dollar signs. The meaning of Christmas has shifted, and many people no longer care about the true meaning of Christmas. That makes me really sad. I think it is hard for people to see Christ when buying so many things. We need  to work to be more intentional and relational with our friends and family rather than buying in excess.

Ice-Queen

Posted: December 14, 2015 by boppitybeepboop in Poetry
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There’s a winter settled in my heart
My friends insist, they’ve done their part
It will pass, they say
An affliction of youth, say they
But peering into a raging blizzard
Or even perhaps, a gentle drifting hazard
I cannot help but wonder when this winter will pass
I cannot help but remember each frozen past
But my friends insist that it will pass
That the ice will melt and spring comes fast
The winter is nearly over, they say
The snow will not drift onward, say they
But I cannot help but wonder when
This icy feeling will melt from my chest

A Memory Lost, A Memory Found

Posted: October 22, 2015 by boppitybeepboop in Poetry
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Funny how the mind can lose some things,
but find others in the flickers of light
In a dark wood where I wander,
Searching for a glimmer of hope to cling to
Like a buoy lost at sea, bobbing with each
Gentle ebb and flow of memory.
Lyrics of songs, memories of vacations,
Travels to far away lands
Stored like boxes in an attic
Waiting to be found
And I, like a quiet shadow
Watched as they sifted through each memory,
Dusted them off, and held them to the light.

Potential

Posted: October 22, 2015 by lionessoflife in Poetry
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They told her she could be anything and everything she wanted to be

The potential, the gifting was there

It was clear from birth that she was going to do great things

She just had a certain air

Her parents bragged that she was the perfect daughter

Her teachers praised her brains

Her friends loved to say they knew her

They all said, “This one’s going  to change the world someday!”

True to their predictions, she rocketed sky-high

She grabbed ahold of her dreams

And stared them in the eye

She had everything she could ever wish for

But what no one could see on the surface

Was simmering deep inside

One day, it boiled over

It became impossible to hide

Away from the approval of others,

When the truth was stripped down to the bone

Beneath all the success, the beauty, the perfection

She felt strangely alone

She was in a hole of her own making

Slowly, deeper and deeper she dug

Assaulted by the unquenchable aching

Crushed by the weight of expectations

Under the scrutiny of all

She struggled to please

“Am I nothing more than what I do?”

She asked herself with a growing sense of unease

She shed her tears in private

Putting on a bold face for all to see

Never daring to let her weakness show

Trading her dreams for an alternate reality

The constant scrutiny of others

Melted through her core

The glaring eyes bored through

Until she couldn’t take it anymore

“I’m not hindered by anyone’s

Views or opinions of me

I’m my own person

I was unable to see that clearly before

I can make anything and everything

Of myself if I wish; I’ll do it, I swear!

After all, as I’m always told,

The gifting, the potential is there.”

 

Still Singing

Posted: October 22, 2015 by thatmomogirl in Short Stories
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Skipping along the sidewalk and street, I hum the classic tune of “Strawberry Fields Forever.” The plaza is lit up with the Christmas lights and holiday spirit that holds excitement in my eight-year-old heart. I blaze forward in front of my family because I simply cannot wait to eat my favorite artichoke topped pizza at Cheesecake Factory.

As I skip onward in front of the glowing white pedestrian walk sign, I hear the screams behind me. At first I do not notice, or care to notice, because the only thing going through my head is the hypnotic voice of John Lennon singing to my young mind. But I quickly stop and realize in the two seconds of panic that a car is racing forward, its lights rapidly growing closer. The screams behind me are yelling my name. Without hesitation I leap forward toward the promising sidewalk of safety as the drunk driver swerves his racing car behind my feet.

I am only a couple of feet away from the spot where my young mind could have stopped. Where my mindless melody could have halted without a resolution or fading chord. My sisters run across the street  and embrace their sister who was joyfully in her own world until the moment of genuine fear phased her body.

But I am still alive. Breathing. Moving. Still singing my song and still going to get my overpriced slice of pizza. Because of that moment of blissful unawareness, my life might have been over, but I was saved by the screams and not led astray by the haunting voice of the lost Beatle. Sometimes the screams do save us, and sometimes the beautiful voices lead us down the detrimental path. But singing Strawberry Fields would have been the way to go.