That's quite a story. There's a publication about angel siteings that would probably love this one.
Some suggestionss:
“I may be big and dump but, big, dumb and stupid, I am not. After the way Joanne cleaned my clock, I will never ever have the heart to trust another woman again.” This confused me a bit. Big and dump?
Driving up the winding country road, she knew her speed was to fast but, it felt good. Should be "too fast."
When the wind suddenly stopped, the leaves fell away and their stood a man. Should be "there."
I just loved this. I don't remember the Victor Borge routine, but I surely did love trying to figure out the inflated words in this one. I think it was good exerecise for the brain. (It was nice, though, that you provided a translation too.)
Good poem. I don't know if you placed in this contest...long ago now. But you did follow the prompts and wrote a good poem. I particularly liked the ending. Excellent word choice. (Sad...the social issues, but excellent word choice.)
What a wonderful story. It warmed my heart. (In spite of those storms. )
Children really do listen and take seriously what we say. I know that I thought God was bowling when there were storms. That's what one of my uncles told me.
And when my son was about five, I saw him watching me intently as I washed my hair in the kitchen sink. When I asked why he stared, he responded, "Mom, did you lie to me or have you lost the eyes in the back of your head?"
Another reviewr said this sounded like William Shatner gasping his lines. Yikes. I had to read. I didn't read it that way at all. I read all poems aloud to see how they flow, and didn't have much problem with this one.
Interesting that you gave the lawsuit almost human qualities. But understandable.
I would put a period at the end, since everything else has punctuation. And...this has ended, right?
Wow. I read this and felt that I just had to read until the end without interruption. That's not always the case, especially since my fibro causes me to have to shift around or get up and walk. And my fibro fog often makes me wonder what I just read. This kept my interest all the way through.
Perhaps part of that was because I've lived in FL and experienced those storms. Perhaps it was because I've had both Adventist friends and have known preacher's kids (other denominations, though).
The only things I would change are where you've said "kids that didn't", "Mrs. White was also the one that", and "pastor that". I would have used "who" instead of "that" in each case.
I'm glad you're sharing this experience. These kinds of personal stories need to be told. If 25% of US women are abused in some way, they need to be aware of how to get help and how to survive. And we all need reminded that many are only one pay check away from being homeless in this country.
This is a good beginning. I do hope you continue to share.
This is a fantastic guide. I can't wait to really explore. But first I had to tell you how much I enjoyed reading this page. Titles are some of my favorite things to create. I have piles of titles before I ever write a poem or story to go with them. And your titles are great. I'm impressed. I'll explore later.
This is great. You've done quite well in your time here. It does pay to get involved, doesn't it? I loved all the comments you made here about others. (And I did notice that you mentioned Elisa a few times. Hmmm. Partial are we? )
In recognizing the talents of others, we reveal some of our own.
I loved the title and couldn't wait to see how the two were related. I'm not sure that they were, except that you want to vent about both. Then again, you did mention that mysterious substance in both instances.
What a great story. The title didn't give a thing away, and the description merely told that it was a horror story.
I have to admit that I disliked the mister from the start. You must have done a good job of making him a jerk. Still, I could understand his reluctance at having the children go along with the aunt. Knowing how controlling they were almost made one feel sorry for him. Almost.
The twist at the end was perfect. I figured there would be one, but that wasn't the one I expected.
Good story. I wondered at the title, before I read the story. If the two were people you were greeting, I thought, "Why not, Hello Fellows." The story explained the title, although I still might have used something like: Competitive Greetings. I guess it's the use of actual greetings and quotation marks in the title that seemed a bit odd.
But the story and lessons were great. If only everyone got to meet someone like John, perhaps we'd realize that each of us really is special in some way.
Hmmm. I loved your poem. I'm just not sure I would call it an "ode". Some dictionaries still claim that an ode is supposed to be serious and meditative. Your poem wasn't that, was it?
Anyway, I did say I loved the poem, and I did. As a coffee lover myself, I could certainly relate. The rhythm was good and so were the rhymes. The only disappointment was the use of "strife" to rhyme with "life". So many use that...
I loved this. The title made me curious. It's a good title. The description gave me a hint of what was to come. The words described quite a place, a place where many will never visit.
I think we often forget that other lands are just like our own: beautiful and ugly, friendly and scary, many things to many people.
If I were you, I'd leave out that apology at the end. There's nothing wrong with writing a descriptive story. Further, you were able to tell of the lynching without a lot of details, letting us imagine in our minds.
Stories about those horrible times in our histrory need to be told again and again.
Suggestion: His lips was a pale red
Should be: His lips were a pale red
This is quite a book. I tried reading it aloud, but I think that it's too early in the morning. (That and one of my new symptoms of fibromyalgia seems to be having a dyslexic mouth. I'm forever twisting words and phrase now, so this was a challenge. )
The art of reading to children is something every parent should practice. I started reading to my son before he was born, and the nurses teased his dad and me when we were reading to him in the hospital. But he learned to read by the time he was 3 years old.
As I read this, my only thought was that a parent would want to read it first to make sure he/she knew the definitions of all of the words. Kids are curious creatures.
This one made me smile and do just a bit of quiet chuckling. Since you've termed this a comedy poem, I guess you've succeeded in your goal.
You did get a point across about forcing rhymes, I think.
When I first started writing poems as a young child (8 years old), I thought all poems had to rhyme. With my limited vocabulary, they were pretty strange. Then in high school, I discovered they didn't have to rhyme at all. How freeing.
Good opinion piece, and it's great to hear from someone who followed the rules to become a citizen.
While your comment that immigration shouldn't be biased according to one's race or origin makes some sense, I believe there have been some laws to that affect for some time. It's my understanding that there have been "quotas" so that no country could try just dumping their citizens upon us.
Perhaps that's why in Mexico the government prints brochures for their citizens about how to sneak into our country safely. It's probably also why so many do arrive and stay illegally. If they had to wait for their turn, it might never happen, especially if they had to pay. (Although many do pay high sums to be smuggled. That money could be saved to spend on proper and legal immigration.)
Allowing "too many" of one type of individual can make happen what already has. Certain immigrants would no longer be minorities, but majorities, and our laws could end up being changed to reflect that.
As one who has lived in both FL and TX, I've seen what can happen. I met quite a few kids in TX with Hispanic names who were forced to take classes where mostly Spanish was spoken, even though their families had been here for generations and only English was spoken in their homes. One girl almost failed her middle school years because the "rules" said her Hispanic origin meant she had to be taught with mostly Spanish.
Conversely, I had a friend in Houston who had arrived from Nicaragua in the 60's. There were 8 kids in the family and only the 2 oldest had learned any English.
Noel was about 8 at the time and was placed in 2nd grade. He was supposed to either sink or swim. The teacher didn't know any Spanish at all. By the end of the school year, he could speak English. And by the time I met him when he was 30, he didn't have one bit of a Spanish accent when he spoke English. His parents were in their 80's then, and although they were not bilingual, they did know enough English to get my.
Anyway, this is well written. And it is a hot topic about which we need to form our own opinions.
You've done a good job of explaining how one with a mental illness feels about being shunned. People think nothing of someone taking drugs for a physical ailment. But when the physical ailment has something to do with the wiring of the brain, it's a whole different story.
Sept. 11-17 is invisible chronic illness awareness week. I like some of the t-shirts available this year. They say: My illness is invisible, but my hope shines through. And: Hope. It's a choice.
I think those should be the words anyone with a chronic and invisible illness carries with him/her.
Interesting dream/story. Rather than putting all of this in one paragraph, I would probably separate it into two or three. Also, since you're talking about one angel, these sentences should be changed:
They put their hand out and motioned me to grab it. Instead, it should be his hand or her hand, depending on the angel's gender.
As soon as my hand hit theirs, we were off like a bat out of hell. Again, since it's only one angel, it should be his or hers, not theirs.
Quite a story. I think you've created a story that many have considered and wondered about the outcome of such a reunion. You did a great job of having the "right" kind of ending, too.
A few suggestions:
You do have a few rather long sentences. This one ends in "from" - a preposition. I'd probably change that.
Jenna in high school had been popular, not only because of her radiant, cheerleader energy and kind smile, but because of her genuineness; she was real and she treated everyone genuinely, no matter what clique or group or part of the city they had come from.
Here, you don't need a semi-colon. A comma will do.
In high school, he was tall and gangly; handsome but not overtly so.
It's always interesting to discover what faiths are represented here. Perhaps having this appear in the spiritual newsletter will help get more responses. Just 126 answers in 9 months just doesn't tell the tale.
I loved this. Personally, I hate storms and have never thought of them being anything like music, which is pleasant. You've given me something to ponder, and that's a good thing.
Wow. I guess this one hit home to me because my dad died last year at this time. He didn't have cancer, but his lungs were't real good (asbestosis, years of smoking, many episodes of pneumonia, including the one that took him). There were just some things he had to tell my sisters before he left this world, even though it was hard to talk. The way you wrote the gasping words reminded me of that. And that I didn't make it to the hospital before he died.
It's a good story. The emotion is there. Normally one wouldn't use so many ellipses, but it does make sense in helping the reader feel/hear the gasping words.
A few suggestions:
The man that lay in the bed beside where he sat, was now, only a fragile shell of the man he once was. No longer strong enough to stop a locomotive, like Superman. No longer faster than the Flash, on his best day. No longer able to play catch or go to a neighborhood game. And now, unable to carry on a lively debate, just for fun.
The man who lay in the bed beside him was only a fragile shell of a man. He could no longer stop a locomotive, like Superman. He wasn't faster than the Flash on his best day. He no longer played catch or even watched the neighborhood games. Now, he was even unable to carry on a lively debate, just for fun.
This man beside him was nearing his end and he knew it. (i}This confused me a bit. Him, his and he? I wasn't sure which person you were writing about, the father or son.
Your not a girl, are you?” You're not a gir...
Tears started to run from the corners of Oscars eyes, he did not notice. Either a period or semi-colon after eyes.
James looked up at the changed light, he knew he had been given fatherly instructions before he left his Dads room.
Either a period or semi-colon between "light" and "he", plus an apostrophe here: Dad's
He knew now, that, he to, had the right to be wrong. ...he too...
Thanks for sharing.
Blessings,
Kenzie
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But you did follow the prompts and wrote a good poem. I particularly liked the ending. Excellent word choice. (Sad...the social issues, but excellent word choice.)
