FIeld Trip Preview

THIS IS A PREVIEW, IF YOU WANT TO READ THE REST CLICK HERE.

 Their color was green. Not light green or dark green, but shrubs and bushes green. With a helmet, maybe too big for their head they would walk silently through the forest. Five of them, without a sound merged with the trees as they leaned on them or turned to liquid as they passed the stream of water. There was though, one of them, the new one, he was unsure. He moved awkwardly between the wind and the rocks. Not part of the trees or shrubs or the river or the wind. There was a small moment in which the contrast of  his face could be seen. Not really making an expression, just two scared blue eyes surrounded by green. He might have been invisible because of the darkness but the night was not his friend.

Aww

this blog is dead, if you like my stuff I just made a new one. these are for school purpose more or less. Also I love all of you who keep on looking at this. :)

edit: New blog already has some post, wouldn't mind if you read them :) link works and evreything... you are all really nice people

Free Verse: The Angel

The Angel   I dreamt a dream! What can it mean? And that I was a maiden Queen Guarded by an Angel mild: Witless woe was ne'er beguiled! And I wept both night and day, And he wiped my tears away; And I wept both day and night, And hid from him my heart's delight. So he took his wings, and fled; Then the morn blushed rosy red. I dried my tears, and armed my fears With ten-thousand shields and spears. Soon my Angel came again; I was armed, he came in vain; For the time of youth was fled, And grey hairs were on my head.   -William Blake-

Thundercloud Grey-Benjamin Moore-2124-50

Thundercloud Grey-Benjamin Moore-2124-50

A thundercloud cracked

Hovered above her head

Her blonde hair ran in all directions,

Dripping droplets down as she ran

She had to reach it

For her, for her daughter

The lemon-eyed woman picked up speed

She jumped through the clouds

Raced through the town hall

Her yare feet movement wasn’t enough

Her sweet sounding voice 

Now drowning with tears

She wasn’t going to make it

 In time

By miracle, as if someone above the clouds

Knew of her troubles, she reached her destination

Just as the lightning broke the mantle of grey

Inside it was dry and cold

Everyone was working

Everyone had come in time

Yet everyone lived close to work

But the bus did not understand

“YOU’RE FIRED!”

She exited through the door

Her hopes had come to die

How would she tell her?

With the rain still pouring over her shoulders

She performed a walk of shame

Her blonde hair now fell sloppily down

The spark of her lemon eyes had died

Her gray shirt now damped in rain and tears

Shame and sadness lingered around her

Her shame and sadness could be smelled miles away

The time had come

For the stars to show

The woman wondered

How to tell her?

How to explain it to her?

She’d have to get a new job

As her walk of disgrace came close to an end

She tripped over a rock

AHHHHH

She fell on the cold concrete

The rain still pouring,

Now on her face

The single mother decided to stay there;

 Let the rain fall and wash her tears

Let them cover her body

Clean her of her shame

The thundercloud hovered above her head

Some lighting stroked here and there

*prop, prop, prop*

Went the rain as it damped her whole

The ground rumbled

As the grey let go a thunder

Tiny footsteps walked her way

Right in front of the mother was her

The blonde mother did not want

Anyone to lay her eyes at her current

Especially her own daughter

“Mommy, stand back up.”

Said the small girl as she extended her hand

The lemon eyed woman kindly accepted,

There was nothing she could do now

Together they walked slowly,

Letting the rain fall and

Trickle down the smile on their faces

Laughing, smiling, forgetting the sadness

Somehow the daughter knew what had happened

And the mother knew she knew

Together they entered the bakery

Asked for the one thing they could afford.

As the muffins came they sat together

Ran through the jobs listed on the newspaper

for more colour collectives go to Middle Minds

Where I am From

I am from pencil shavings,
from papermate mongol and erasers
I am from the gigantic lego creations
scattered about the rooms

I am from the marañon trees,
whose seeds hang upside down
I am from music and creativity,
from Abuela Maggie and Abuelo Numan
and Vasquez- Perez

I am from the organized chaos,
the jokes and puns
From there is nothing to fear and be careful
I am from prays at night
Padre Nuestro, Santa Maria Madre de Dios
and Angel de Mi Guarda

I am from San Fernando
from Panama City Panama
I am from golden coins and
ancient relics.
From brownies and banana cakes

I am from the Creepy doll collection Tia Blanca Elena
never wanted, nor will, throw out
I am from the one who is missing both eyes,
her pitch black holes, ever staring, into mine.
And from the leap of faith Andrea took when she was six
hoping she could do like I did
*thud* she went from the dollhouse's roof

I am from the albums on top of my head,
from the first trip we took when we were born,
From Ecuador to New York
From Grandma's baby sepia pictures and my dad
sitting in the bus with hair on his head

I am from falling for fictional character
Eadric, Luka, and Tony as well
I am from Abuela Charo's Halloween costumes:
The Mime, Charlie Chaplin (3rd), and BettleJuice [Betelgeuse] (2nd)

I am from Pegasi, Unicorns, and Ponies alike
Buttons, Surprise, Sparkler, and Posey
I am from Pinky and Lila Tutifruti
forever in my heart

I am from nine months ago, the 25th of December
at the beach as night falls
I am from roses, delicate yet full of thorns.

I am from Abuelo Rudy's gazillion of farms
and the pawn shop from before that
I am from the first
"Who is that Pokemon?"
up to
"It's Tepig, Oshawott, and Snivy!"

I am from the sketches of my mom
and the anatomy of my dad
I am from Wednesday
August 26, 1998

I am from the drawers right besides me,
the notebooks on the first then the erasers.
I am from the biology slide kits which contain
Frog Ovaries, cricket skin, and butterfly wings

I am from "you are weird" and
"but, in the good way"
I am from the microscope underneath my feet
from the portable one in my third drawer
I am from doubts and procrastination
from pouts and "the people of my nation"

I am from games
La Lata and Sardinita
La Gallinita Siega and
Un, Dos, Tres Pan y Queso

I am from questions, pondering,
mixed feelings
From individuality, secrets, and
Control-Z,
 AND CAPS LOCK PRESSED ACCIDENTALLY
I am from "Quick! act normal!"
and "S41T! I'm screwed!"
I am from "sorry" and
"I don't care."

I am from the green van
that is one year less old than I am
I am from the Rexton and the Frappes
we ate in there
both, to be sold
For them I both cared

I am from my strenghts, my weaknesses
and everything in between
and my obsessions alike.
But I mostly am from those who have formed me
My Family, my non-blood-related family
my teachers, my Friends
Yet I am from the places I've been,
the people I've seen, met, and believed

I am from my Family
all the way to the top of the tree,
from my drawings, my pets,
my weird fantasies

I am from my dreams,
the mini heart attacks
(startles) I have everyday,
from my freaky "artistic sense"
and from all the stuff you all put up with

I am from peace and war
the light and the dark
to love and tolerate
I am from evreything above,
from August and beyond :)

-Ximena Vasquez-

Poetry Notebook

Eyes

Selected by: Ximena Vasquez

Description: Eyes are the vent of life, of the soul itself.  They are the bridge that opens worlds and the doors to sealed and unwanted emotions.  For eyes are the most beautiful part of a homosapien sapien´s body and shall remain as hearts windows until the ends of time.

Synopsis: This blog entry is about poetry that captures the essence of eyes. The ones we owe our sight to and the ones that capture our emotions. These are a collection of poems about eyes and the emotions that they have evoked.

Poetry:

Deep Brown Eyes by: Still.so.young.xoxo

Through others' eyes by: Jessica Dawn Hamon

Deep Eyes, Deep Love by: Commi

When Eye Cry by: Zab

In My Mind's Eye by:Cannaballester

When I Look Deep into Your Eyes by: Katie LT

Eyes of Darkness by: Deep Dark Soul

Deep Green Eyes by: Ayten Ali

Also I would like to give a shout out to my friends Prashansa, Eun-Bin, and Alejandra." This is the model I was talking to you about, Jaco Van Den Hoven.

For more poetry notebooks go to MiddleMindz



Historic Letter

Dear Claire,

            I know I’m a sinner for this thought but it’s eating my mind. My guile towards Momma was something I wished to put in action. I couldn’t, but I still hoped. She’s probably wishing the same. We all wish you here, with us. Yet we know God will keep your soul safe. Don’t worry you are in a better place. I bet Momma even wishes I died instead of you that day, in the ship. She loved your sunny disposition, she abores my happiness.

            So how is it up there, in heaven? Down here, it’s horrible. Everything is “for the general good of the colony”, ugh.  Let me tell you how it is, so let’s say you want to play hide & seek, well guess what you can’t! Why? Unless everyone wants to play you can’t. Joseph’s dad needed some meds. For Rosemary, his mom, but they couldn’t. These selfish beings wouldn’t let him go back to England because it would take days and preparation and a bunch of lame excuses. In the end, we were all present when she died.

Days later I tried to take a stroll with Joseph, to my favorite spot, Marie’s Pastry Shop. We never made it; a spontaneous winter came upon us. We’ve had to stay inside for days. So many that we’ve lost count. I did record something else, something of far greater importance.

Deaths.

Millions, Zillions. All dead!

            Oh, Claire we’ve dropped to less than half the colony. Now I have to do the washings, dishes, and hear Momma complain about how slow I am with work and the weather. It would be much better if you were still alive. You could help me end mom’s imperative announcements on how everything, including me, would be better if you were alive. In the end we probably will end up dead, like you.

            There is nothing fun in the house. We can’t even look for fresh flowers for your shrine, the snow is too dense. I’d wish I knew how to send this letter but all I can do is pray for God to lower the snow or to tell you how much I miss you. That and to be honest for him to excuse my soul. In the end everything here is so bad. Ok, it IS terrible, the food stock has been decreasing and Momma is unbearable but BEFORE the snow the new world wasn’t all that bad. Then again if the snow will ever decrease maybe the journey might be worth it.

Your beloved sister,

Rosen Ducayne