(I am braindead with a million bazillion assignments and guests, but I figured I was long overdue on a blog update. Here's a poem I recently wrote. It's kind of narrative, but it was a break from my relentless usual style).
With Jesus in Their Eyes
I'm the girl
With eyes so deep and hollow
You could drown in them.
My dark floss cloud a
Remembering ember
Of another life, another
Love.
I'm the boy
With sunshine hidden behind
Pale, gold-tipped glass
My brow like a ship's
Course across storm-laden
Green, furrowed
Like waves. Behind it
The longing, starving words
Who do not know
'Enough'.
I'm the girl
In the forbidding
Denim jumper
With hair like yellow tears
Or pretty leaves on crying willow
With innocent questions
And laughing ferocity.
I'm the boy
Everyone loves with
My teasing grin and two-faced
Eyes that love to
Make them dance
But hold some void
Some abyss and darkness
Of an unusual kind.
I'm the girl
Whose arms cradle
Such sweet cries
That earn me the shunning
The hiss, hush
That mars my existence
I'm the boy
So young, so true
And dead
My hands bleeding
My feet full of darkness
My head shining forth light
Crushed like a
Wilted brown leaf
Before the deepness of the
Night
Criminal
Sinister
You are the one
I died for
The one I bled for
The one I swallowed Darkness
forevermore for
I was crushed for you.
He is the one
With the immense brilliance
He's the one
Who shines through their
Eyes.
I'm the girl
I'm the boy
Who needs your
Love, with
Jesus in my eyes.
Saturday, February 28, 2009
Monday, February 23, 2009
Part V of the Purple Mold Series
A story of life, love, desperation and mold of a rather unusual color by Kylie and I. (click the names below for links to the previous parts of the story)
Part One
Part Two
Part Three
Part Four
The wailing wouldn't stop.
It was Iyanna's wailing and she couldn't control it any more than she could control the destiny that had seized her and her unwilling family. It had been only a day since the violet mold had appeared in the outhouse. A day since disaster had come to be.
"Yan," a voice said softly by her ear. "It's time to wake up." A masculine voice. Hmmm. There was something significant about this voice, wasn't there? If her tired, frozen mind could only melt a little, maybe she could remember...
She swallowed and opened her eyes. A man knelt next to her bed. Two piercing grey eyes shone out of the still of the dawn room. She clamped her mouth shut to keep the scream from escaping.
Who was this man and how had he got into her room? She looked frantically around for Westin, but his bedclothes were rumpled, signaling the fact that he had indeed left.
"Calm down, little sister." The man said, releasing her from the burden of his silvery eye contact. "I promise, I'm here to help you."
"Who are you?" She said, her voice painfully level.
"I'm called Arioch." He extended a hand. She looked at it, unsure of what he meant.
He pulled his hand back again. "Oh, sorry about that. Custom I've grown familiar with. I assume you are Iyanna?"
She narrowed her eyes. How did he know so much about her? "Yes. How do you know that?"
He smiled. A brilliant, silvery smile to be sure. The light of the stars was captured in his shimmering smile. "Do you like to fly?"
Fly? This man, Arioch as he called himself, was a lunatic. "What kind of question is that?" she snapped at him.
"A perfectly valid one." He said, looking down at his long, pale fingers. "Well, do you?"
"Like to fly?"
"Mm-hmm."
"I've never flown before." Lunatic. Stark, raving mad.
"Oh. That's a shame." He smiled again, and she couldn't tell whether he was joking or serious. "Do you want to fly?"
"No." The answer came to her lips without her thinking about it. Her heart started to increase its beats in speed. The crazy man was making her nervous.
"Again, a shame. Do you like sunsets?"
"Yes." she said cautiously.
"Good! Now we're beginning to understand each other!" He slapped a hand onto her shoulder.
Understand each other? Iyanna's mind raced. Understand? Nothing could be further from the truth!
Arioch must have interpreted the look on her face accurately, because he said, "Don't worry, little sister. You will understand much later. Tell me, what do you know about stars?"
She glared at him from under her eyelids.
He just smiled his roguish grin back at her. "That's fine. I just want to get to know you a little more."
"Then maybe you could actually ask me something that mattered!"
"What do you suggest?"
Iyanna stopped. What was important? "You could ask me about the violet mold."
"So, why has the Creator bestowed this violet mold upon you, sweet Iyanna?" Arioch leaned back on his elbows, stretching his long frame.
"I don't know."
"Then why did you tell me to ask that?" Arioch quirked one side of his mouth up.
"Maybe you have... answers." Iyanna's tongue was running away with her mind. What was she thinking?
"Hmm." Arioch sat back up. "Answers. I have no answers. Never. But the Creator holds knowledge in the palm of his hand. Inquire of him. Who knows? He may choose to speak through his humble servant."
It took Iyanna a moment to realize he was referring to himself. "No." She chewed her lower lip, bitter. "If the Creator would deprive me of my life, my safety, my brother, he's not worth it all, is he?"
Arioch looked serious. "Your brother? What about your brother?"
"The mold was his, wasn't it?"
"You seem to think I know things that I don't know. But if this is really something that disturbs you, then I need you to do something ridiculous."
Everything you've said so far has been ridiculous.
"Hold very tightly to my hand, and don't let go." He said, extending his hand in her direction. "Promise me, whatever happens, you won't let go."
Iyanna slipped her hand into his, her concern for Westin outweighing all reason. "I won't... let go."
Nothing.
Nothing.
Nothing.
Arioch was gone. She was gone. Nothing.
Nothing.
The light had faded into nothing. Nothing.
She tried to move, but found that her clenched hand still bound her to where she was.
The darkness glimmered into hazy brilliance. What a strange dream. The world was back. She must have hit her head on the low ceiling or something. A bird was singing.
"Yan?"
Iyanna would know that voice anywhere. "Westin!" She leaped from the ground, which she now recognized as moss, and ran toward him. His face was pale, but he looked happy. Happier than he had been in a long time.
She couldn't reach him. Her hand bound her in place.
Whatever happens, don't let go. Arioch's words echoed across the familiarity of it all. Promise me, whatever happens, don't let go.
Iyanna let go. The nightmarish darkness, nothingness was here.
She had forgotten, in the lovely morning and her brother's warm face, the terror of this. She screamed, but the scream was torn from her throat in a desperate force.
"Sweetie, wake up." The voice sounded like it was coming through a tunnel of wind.
"Katia! Bring her around!"
"She's having a seizure, sir! I can't do... anything." The voices were fading and growing, hitting grandiose notes of crescendo and decrescendo.
Then the roar overwhelmed them, and Iyanna was alone, away from Arioch, whose hand had fallen from hers.
And far, far away from sweet Westin.
So... did you see that coming? Check back on Kylie's site in the near future for Part VI.
Part One
Part Two
Part Three
Part Four
The wailing wouldn't stop.
It was Iyanna's wailing and she couldn't control it any more than she could control the destiny that had seized her and her unwilling family. It had been only a day since the violet mold had appeared in the outhouse. A day since disaster had come to be.
"Yan," a voice said softly by her ear. "It's time to wake up." A masculine voice. Hmmm. There was something significant about this voice, wasn't there? If her tired, frozen mind could only melt a little, maybe she could remember...
She swallowed and opened her eyes. A man knelt next to her bed. Two piercing grey eyes shone out of the still of the dawn room. She clamped her mouth shut to keep the scream from escaping.
Who was this man and how had he got into her room? She looked frantically around for Westin, but his bedclothes were rumpled, signaling the fact that he had indeed left.
"Calm down, little sister." The man said, releasing her from the burden of his silvery eye contact. "I promise, I'm here to help you."
"Who are you?" She said, her voice painfully level.
"I'm called Arioch." He extended a hand. She looked at it, unsure of what he meant.
He pulled his hand back again. "Oh, sorry about that. Custom I've grown familiar with. I assume you are Iyanna?"
She narrowed her eyes. How did he know so much about her? "Yes. How do you know that?"
He smiled. A brilliant, silvery smile to be sure. The light of the stars was captured in his shimmering smile. "Do you like to fly?"
Fly? This man, Arioch as he called himself, was a lunatic. "What kind of question is that?" she snapped at him.
"A perfectly valid one." He said, looking down at his long, pale fingers. "Well, do you?"
"Like to fly?"
"Mm-hmm."
"I've never flown before." Lunatic. Stark, raving mad.
"Oh. That's a shame." He smiled again, and she couldn't tell whether he was joking or serious. "Do you want to fly?"
"No." The answer came to her lips without her thinking about it. Her heart started to increase its beats in speed. The crazy man was making her nervous.
"Again, a shame. Do you like sunsets?"
"Yes." she said cautiously.
"Good! Now we're beginning to understand each other!" He slapped a hand onto her shoulder.
Understand each other? Iyanna's mind raced. Understand? Nothing could be further from the truth!
Arioch must have interpreted the look on her face accurately, because he said, "Don't worry, little sister. You will understand much later. Tell me, what do you know about stars?"
She glared at him from under her eyelids.
He just smiled his roguish grin back at her. "That's fine. I just want to get to know you a little more."
"Then maybe you could actually ask me something that mattered!"
"What do you suggest?"
Iyanna stopped. What was important? "You could ask me about the violet mold."
"So, why has the Creator bestowed this violet mold upon you, sweet Iyanna?" Arioch leaned back on his elbows, stretching his long frame.
"I don't know."
"Then why did you tell me to ask that?" Arioch quirked one side of his mouth up.
"Maybe you have... answers." Iyanna's tongue was running away with her mind. What was she thinking?
"Hmm." Arioch sat back up. "Answers. I have no answers. Never. But the Creator holds knowledge in the palm of his hand. Inquire of him. Who knows? He may choose to speak through his humble servant."
It took Iyanna a moment to realize he was referring to himself. "No." She chewed her lower lip, bitter. "If the Creator would deprive me of my life, my safety, my brother, he's not worth it all, is he?"
Arioch looked serious. "Your brother? What about your brother?"
"The mold was his, wasn't it?"
"You seem to think I know things that I don't know. But if this is really something that disturbs you, then I need you to do something ridiculous."
Everything you've said so far has been ridiculous.
"Hold very tightly to my hand, and don't let go." He said, extending his hand in her direction. "Promise me, whatever happens, you won't let go."
Iyanna slipped her hand into his, her concern for Westin outweighing all reason. "I won't... let go."
Nothing.
Nothing.
Nothing.
Arioch was gone. She was gone. Nothing.
Nothing.
The light had faded into nothing. Nothing.
She tried to move, but found that her clenched hand still bound her to where she was.
The darkness glimmered into hazy brilliance. What a strange dream. The world was back. She must have hit her head on the low ceiling or something. A bird was singing.
"Yan?"
Iyanna would know that voice anywhere. "Westin!" She leaped from the ground, which she now recognized as moss, and ran toward him. His face was pale, but he looked happy. Happier than he had been in a long time.
She couldn't reach him. Her hand bound her in place.
Whatever happens, don't let go. Arioch's words echoed across the familiarity of it all. Promise me, whatever happens, don't let go.
Iyanna let go. The nightmarish darkness, nothingness was here.
She had forgotten, in the lovely morning and her brother's warm face, the terror of this. She screamed, but the scream was torn from her throat in a desperate force.
"Sweetie, wake up." The voice sounded like it was coming through a tunnel of wind.
"Katia! Bring her around!"
"She's having a seizure, sir! I can't do... anything." The voices were fading and growing, hitting grandiose notes of crescendo and decrescendo.
Then the roar overwhelmed them, and Iyanna was alone, away from Arioch, whose hand had fallen from hers.
And far, far away from sweet Westin.
So... did you see that coming? Check back on Kylie's site in the near future for Part VI.
Thursday, February 19, 2009
"Homeschool Chemistry Class Found Dead on Kitchen Floor"
(Imagine finding that headline in your local newspaper!)
Today was Co-op. It was really fun. I performed my Apologetics speech (good score - yay) and then went on to do Chemistry, where I was poisoned by my well-meaning teacher and nearly died.
Let me explain.
We're studying the Chemistry of Solutions. One of our experiments involved us dissolving a compound into water to demonstrate exothermic reactions (the kind that give off heat when performed).
We read the entire experiment carefully before beginning. We even wore the safety goggles like they recommend (they recommend we wear safety goggles when we're dealing with salt, so we usually look at their goggles suggestion somewhat critically).
But this time we even did that!
Conclusion of Chemistry experiment: Drano+water= bad news.
We were supposed to mix lye (like Drano) and water to observe the difference in temperature. Well, they didn't mention that when you mix lye and water, it produces a toxic fume.
We're a small homeschool Chemistry class. We have five students (only four were here today), so we usually do our experiments at the kitchen sink (which is where it's recommended!)
My mom also teaches a history class for kids approximately 4-11 years old. They're a pretty small class too, so they meet in the living room.
Our only guy Chemistry student noticed the problem with the gases first. As soon as we started the experiment, he started to itch, so he dashed outside. Within a minute, I started to feel like I couldn't breath. I started coughing, but I couldn't get a decent breath. I tried pulling up my shirt over my mouth, but it didn't work. I ran outside.
Within two minutes, the history class started coughing. My mom thought it was kind of weird how they all started coughing at the same time (they couldn't smell it) but when she started coughing too, she realized our grievous error.
I have never cleared a house before today!
So, my whole class is kind of off right now. Three of the four of us have headaches, all of us are slightly dizzy and everyone, including our teacher, is exhausted.
I'm still coughing.
A list (because I'm visual):
Today is the first time I've ever:
1. been poisoned.
2. poisoned a class full of kids, including my own sister.
3. been mad at my Chemistry curriculum
4. made a toxic gas by accident
5. cleared a house because of said toxic gas
Well, that's all for now. I've misspelled SO many words because my brain is totally shot. I'll finish Part V of Purple Mold and post that sometime in the near future, unless of course I die of Drano inhalation, in which case, Kylie can write something creative about purple mold in my obituary.
Today was Co-op. It was really fun. I performed my Apologetics speech (good score - yay) and then went on to do Chemistry, where I was poisoned by my well-meaning teacher and nearly died.
Let me explain.
We're studying the Chemistry of Solutions. One of our experiments involved us dissolving a compound into water to demonstrate exothermic reactions (the kind that give off heat when performed).
We read the entire experiment carefully before beginning. We even wore the safety goggles like they recommend (they recommend we wear safety goggles when we're dealing with salt, so we usually look at their goggles suggestion somewhat critically).
But this time we even did that!
Conclusion of Chemistry experiment: Drano+water= bad news.
We were supposed to mix lye (like Drano) and water to observe the difference in temperature. Well, they didn't mention that when you mix lye and water, it produces a toxic fume.
We're a small homeschool Chemistry class. We have five students (only four were here today), so we usually do our experiments at the kitchen sink (which is where it's recommended!)
My mom also teaches a history class for kids approximately 4-11 years old. They're a pretty small class too, so they meet in the living room.
Our only guy Chemistry student noticed the problem with the gases first. As soon as we started the experiment, he started to itch, so he dashed outside. Within a minute, I started to feel like I couldn't breath. I started coughing, but I couldn't get a decent breath. I tried pulling up my shirt over my mouth, but it didn't work. I ran outside.
Within two minutes, the history class started coughing. My mom thought it was kind of weird how they all started coughing at the same time (they couldn't smell it) but when she started coughing too, she realized our grievous error.
I have never cleared a house before today!
So, my whole class is kind of off right now. Three of the four of us have headaches, all of us are slightly dizzy and everyone, including our teacher, is exhausted.
I'm still coughing.
A list (because I'm visual):
Today is the first time I've ever:
1. been poisoned.
2. poisoned a class full of kids, including my own sister.
3. been mad at my Chemistry curriculum
4. made a toxic gas by accident
5. cleared a house because of said toxic gas
Well, that's all for now. I've misspelled SO many words because my brain is totally shot. I'll finish Part V of Purple Mold and post that sometime in the near future, unless of course I die of Drano inhalation, in which case, Kylie can write something creative about purple mold in my obituary.
Monday, February 16, 2009
Check it out...
I'm up on the Patrick Henry College site with my winning story today! If you'd like to read it, visit: http://patrickhenrycollege.com/acalltopens.php
Just click my name.
I also would like to continue on my wonderful Aunty's site and write a haiku (or maybe two or three... I tend to get carried away. Haiku is my second favorite poem, second to the depressing freestyles I write...)
White splash in sunlight
Darkness fleeing sunshine bright
Brilliance of morning.
Tree dances in wind
Mischievious giggles of breeze
Lovely soul of spring.
Just click my name.
I also would like to continue on my wonderful Aunty's site and write a haiku (or maybe two or three... I tend to get carried away. Haiku is my second favorite poem, second to the depressing freestyles I write...)
White splash in sunlight
Darkness fleeing sunshine bright
Brilliance of morning.
Tree dances in wind
Mischievious giggles of breeze
Lovely soul of spring.
Friday, February 13, 2009
The Best End to the Worst Week
Okay, maybe the worst week is a little bit of an exaggeration, but it was a really bad week. I have been up sooo late (almost as late as the October-writing-contest-spree... but not quite) this week doing stupid stuff, like my million speech and writing assignments and Chemistry and listening to my stressed sister practice her speech over and over.
And then, someone has got mad at me every day for the past six days (no, I'm not counting. Why do you ask?).
My writing wasn't paying off anywhere. The up-til-two-ever-night-October-writing-contest-spree contests all came back negative. None of my recent queries have been accepted.
I was incredibly discouraged about everything. Was this really my thing? Was I really any good at this?
Obviously, no one thought so.
But all of that changed this morning!!!!!
So, using the approved venue of communication (a.k.a. the heater vent) I wake up to a familiar sound "CATEY!!!!!"
Thinking that my instance of someone being angry at me was coming a little early this morning, I ran upstairs. My mom is screaming into the phone and saying, "You are an honorable mention in the PHC writing contest!!!!!"
Story:
This was not part of the October-writing-contest-spree. This was part of the November "Why Can't I Have a Normal Life???" contest (yes, the one with exactly 1499 words and the creepy PakMail clerk... check it out here and here) I have thought for a while that this was also a negative response. Today was the contest deadline to hear back from the judges, and the contact was supposed to come through email by today. My inbox sits empty.
So, apparently, they broke their own rules. I was called yesterday evening (my sister didn't pick up the phone because she didn't recognize the number and didn't want to deal with a solicitor) but my mom didn't check the message til this morning!!!
So, the story is titled "Outside the Glass Box" and it's exactly 1499 words long. It will be posted on Patrick Henry College's website sometime today (I've been checking back often. Maybe a little too often). If you'd like to read it, I'll provide a link to the homepage of PHC's website (since they, ahem, have not posted anything yet) here: http://patrickhenrycollege.com/
Sparks of illumination,
C.
P.S. Coming up next.... Part V of the Purple Mold Series...
And then, someone has got mad at me every day for the past six days (no, I'm not counting. Why do you ask?).
My writing wasn't paying off anywhere. The up-til-two-ever-night-October-writing-contest-spree contests all came back negative. None of my recent queries have been accepted.
I was incredibly discouraged about everything. Was this really my thing? Was I really any good at this?
Obviously, no one thought so.
But all of that changed this morning!!!!!
So, using the approved venue of communication (a.k.a. the heater vent) I wake up to a familiar sound "CATEY!!!!!"
Thinking that my instance of someone being angry at me was coming a little early this morning, I ran upstairs. My mom is screaming into the phone and saying, "You are an honorable mention in the PHC writing contest!!!!!"
Story:
This was not part of the October-writing-contest-spree. This was part of the November "Why Can't I Have a Normal Life???" contest (yes, the one with exactly 1499 words and the creepy PakMail clerk... check it out here and here) I have thought for a while that this was also a negative response. Today was the contest deadline to hear back from the judges, and the contact was supposed to come through email by today. My inbox sits empty.
So, apparently, they broke their own rules. I was called yesterday evening (my sister didn't pick up the phone because she didn't recognize the number and didn't want to deal with a solicitor) but my mom didn't check the message til this morning!!!
So, the story is titled "Outside the Glass Box" and it's exactly 1499 words long. It will be posted on Patrick Henry College's website sometime today (I've been checking back often. Maybe a little too often). If you'd like to read it, I'll provide a link to the homepage of PHC's website (since they, ahem, have not posted anything yet) here: http://patrickhenrycollege.com/
Sparks of illumination,
C.
P.S. Coming up next.... Part V of the Purple Mold Series...
Thursday, February 5, 2009
For Your Perusal...
In the world's broad field of battle,
In the bivouac of life,
Be not like dumb, driven cattle,
Be a hero in the strife!
Trust no future, howe'er pleasant.
Let the dead Past bury its dead!
Act - act, in the living Present,
Heart within and God o'erhead!
Lives of great men all remind us
We can make our lives sublime,
And departing, leave behind us,
Footprints, in the sands of time.
Footprints that perhaps another,
Sailing along life's troubled main,
A forlorn and shipwrecked brother,
Seeing, may take heart again.
Let us then be up and doing,
With a heart for any fate,
Still achieving, still pursuing,
Learn to labor and to wait.
An excerpt from Henry Wadsworth Longellow's A Psalm of Life
In the bivouac of life,
Be not like dumb, driven cattle,
Be a hero in the strife!
Trust no future, howe'er pleasant.
Let the dead Past bury its dead!
Act - act, in the living Present,
Heart within and God o'erhead!
Lives of great men all remind us
We can make our lives sublime,
And departing, leave behind us,
Footprints, in the sands of time.
Footprints that perhaps another,
Sailing along life's troubled main,
A forlorn and shipwrecked brother,
Seeing, may take heart again.
Let us then be up and doing,
With a heart for any fate,
Still achieving, still pursuing,
Learn to labor and to wait.
An excerpt from Henry Wadsworth Longellow's A Psalm of Life
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)