The Innocent Criminal

I’m buried chest high

My arms are tied so I can’t stop the stones that fly

Or hug my children that stand near by

Teary-eyed they watch me die

Tears stream down my face

Every towns member survey me in disgrace

I lower my head but not in shame

Because I’m not the one to blame

I persistently denied the crime

Not even equivalent to a man, my testimony’s cheap

There is no he said she said

Only he said

This crime of passion

A blood lust old as the Koran

From Allah’s book it all began

From Allah book it will all conclude

Like the life we lead

I’m buried chest high

My hands are tied so I can’t stop the stones the fly

The final stone is thrown by own my flesh and blood

The pain didn’t kill me

But the hatred forcibly engraved in his heart

By religious sheep did

I close my eyes and drift away

No more suffering

No more pain

Flames of Protest

So for a change, I’m going to start a fire

A fire that burns deep within my soul

People will come for miles to watch me burn

The sadness of living is more painful than death

But sometimes in order to change the world you must set yourself on

  fire

The Beauty Hidden Behind the Veil of Africa

 

 Africa is a continent composed of many mesmerizing countries

A treat not only for the eyes but for the mind and soul

They fail to display enough to satisfy curiosities
 They just show the rising death toll

 Africa is more than just HIV, AIDs and poverty
It’s the crisp snow covered Mountain Kilimanjaro grazing the sky
 They don’t display the abundance of natures prosperity
 Such as the sun setting over the bonsai
 
 Africa is a beautiful continent, elegant in beauty
Elegant, like the gazelle that effortlessly leaves the pursuing lion in the dust
 The beauty of Africa is constant from Egypt to Djibouti
 The way Africa is displayed is simply unjust

 Africa, My Africa even though we are miles apart
Your hidden beauty will always remain in my mind, soul and heart.

A Short Story is a Photograph

For the short story unit, each student in my class was assigned to select a short story ad present it to each other. The short story I chose was written by Lawrence Block and title A Bad Night for Burglars. The character that stood out as memorable was Mr.Trebizond. Mr.Trebizond was the character in the short story that was being burglarized. He stood out to me for multiple reasons. Firstly, Mr. Trebizond announces to the burglar that he may kill him with his shot gun for the thrill of it. He also states that he would like to experience what it feels like to take away life again. As a reader, I questioned Mr. Trebizond character, is he sane? Has he committed acts of murder previously in his life? If so under what circumstances has Mr.Trebizond committed murder? As a reader the writer did provide me with answers to all my questions, however he did give a faint implication that Mr.Trebizond may have been in the army.

Throughout this short story unit I discovered that writing a short story is considerably challenging. In a lot of situations I know how I would like my short story to begin, but I have difficulties determine what events take place throughout the story and how to end my story. I also experienced several difficulties describing certain events and characters because we were provided with a limit we could not exceed.

I’ve read an abundance of short stories in my life and I discovered that I greatly enjoy short stories that end rather dramatically. I enjoy, cliffhangers, a what-the heck just happened? I read short stories ranging from a variety of plot structures. However I enjoy short stories that have characters that is mysterious. Characters as such keep readers interested because you want to discover more about them and what there capable of. The setting is not of great importance to me as long as the reader describes it well enough for me to envision it in my head.

I struggled a lot writing my short story. However when I finished I was slightly impressed with myself because the beginning of my story and the end if my story made sense. I believe I could improve on my story if I was able to provide readers with the past events that lead to the beginning of my short story. I also believe I could improve my short story by revealing the character of the protagonist more. I still have that issue where I tend to tell my readers rather than show. I need to make effort to resolve that issue.

Autumn’s fire

Warm days are gone

Will you still stand

While the dying flames dance around you

What will you do all alone

What will you do without fire

The wind chills to bone

A bleak cold world without warmth

A world without life

Strangers at a Bar

He gazed at her in astonishment and quickly closed his mouth, glancing around hoping no one noticed. The audience roared to life as she belted out that last word of a song he didn’t recognize. Many of the individuals praised her with applause, whistles and hoots. She flashed the audience a sly smile, flipped her shoulder length crow colored curly hair over her should and strutted off the stage.

His steely cold sky colored eyes followed her as she took a seat at the bar. She reached into her silver studded clutch and pulled out a compact mirror. She looking into it, and noticed in the reflection of the mirror someone was watching her. She didn’t react; she simply reached into her clutch and pulled out a raspberry colored lipstick. She slowly applied the lipstick while studying the appearance of the individual who was watching her. She found him quiet attractive…but too young to be in an environment as such. The young man was still watching her, and he knew. He knew that she was watching him.

She closed her compact mirror, and returned it into her clutch and turned around to face the young man. She stared him, hoping he would look away. He continued to stare at her, completely aware he was lacking subtleness. She got off her chair and approached him.

“Did you enjoy the show?” she asked. He didn’t respond right away. He stared at for several seconds then said “You sang beautifully”. She didn’t thank him for the compliment. She had become accustomed to individuals telling her that.

“Do you sing?” she asked curiously

He chuckled and said “No. Not like you. You come here often?”

She raised an eyebrow suspiciously and said “Every Monday, Wednesday and Friday. How about you?”

“Just scoping the place out, heard there were beautiful singers here” he said flashing her devious smile.

She smiled slightly and asked “Anyone in particular?”

“I met one, just a few minutes ago” he replied.

She took a step closer to him and “Really?”

“Yeah, you’re the 2^nd best singer I’ve seen tonight” he said.

She took a step back, insulted “Whose the first?!” she asked with hint of jealously in her voice.

“You didn’t see her?  She came on before you went on stage” he said tauntingly.

A smile spread across her face and she said knowingly

“I was first”. She waited hoping he would react after being caught in a lie. He didn’t even bat an eye.

“They must have a damn good radio” he said smiling.

“If you like the radio, I’m sure you’ll enjoy the show live” she replied.

“I already did, but I’ll like to see it again”. She smiled at him

“Come back on Monday and you will” she said reassuringly.

“I heard you hold the best midnight shows” she said smiling alluringly

“Come Monday night and you’ll see” she replied. She gave him a quick wink and sashayed out of the club.

Harmless Wolves

 

She glanced behind her quickly, the distrustful tattooed youth she collided with several blocks before were still following her like a pack of wolves. She turned the corner and realized in a quick second she was trapped. She turned around to face her captors.

“Miss, you dropped your wallet"

 

A Castle Made Of Shattered Glass

 

As I read the concluding page of The Glass Castle, multiple concepts and emotions circulated my mind. I was saddened and angered at all the humiliation and obstacles Jeanette and her siblings had to overcome. However I was quite jovial that Jeanette, Lori and Brian escaped the underdeveloped city of Welch to surmount to greater achievements in New York City. When I finished the memoir, Jeanette Walls gave me the impression that the overall message of The Glass Castle is that you can't make the decision of what family you are born into, you just have to accept your family for who and what they are and overlook their faults and mistakes. Throughout the unfolding of the memoir I observed that loyalty is displayed among Jeanette, Lori and Brian, which I believe is part the authors overall message.Despite the fact their parents neglected them. they still remained loyal to them.

I didn't acquire an abundance of information from this unit with the exception of difference between autobiographies biographies and memoirs  However I did learn something about life from Jeanette Walls memoir. I learned that any individual can triumph over hardships and misfortune if they implement and dedicate themselves to achieving success. When writing my memoir I did encounter several difficulties because a memior cannot incorporate every conceivable occurrence. In certain sections of my memoir, I found myself providing the reader with unnecessary detail. What I most enjoyed about writing about my memoir was reminiscing. A one certain point I found myself laughing at my lack of attentiveness to stay awake in church for an hour and half. 

My writing hasn't  changed drastically. However I observed that I tend to tell rather than show in my writing. So in the future when I find myself writing, whether it be a memoir or not I will make a prodigious effort to show my readers what is happening rather than tell.

he love of family and the admiration of friends is much more important than wealth and privilege.
Read more at http://www.brainyquote.com/quotes/topics/topic_family.html#frDZPCjVu4uijC1

 Reflection of glass memoir

The Entrance into the Realm of the Unknown

Ever since I was a child I loved writing. I remember when I was little my friends would be outdoors in the hot summer sun playing games that involved running and chasing while I would be lounging on my bed, feet in the air writing my stories in my notebook .I had a peculiar  notebook that contained all my stories which I kept hidden in secret location .Whenever I was writing I hated to be disturbed, I felt as though if someone interpreted me, the brilliance would disappear.

Whenever I had paper or a writing utensil in my hands my imagination ran wild. I would write stories about princess and princes, dragons, fairies, mystical animals and more more. However as I got older I noticed that my stories took a more serious toll. Princess,princes, fairies and dragons ceased to exist in my stories. My characters began experiencing real life situations, such as death and heartbreak. I still enjoy writing immensely but not about mystical things. I enjoy writing about things that real life individuals such as myself can relate to. A lot of my ideas are derived from books, articles, magazines I read. If you were to glance upon my library you would observe that are genres ranging from horror, to romance to biographies. I'm a very open minded when it comes to literature.

As a writer I don't presume I can determine my strengths or weakness, I leave the decision up to the reader. As I writer I am expressing my thoughts and emotions in a fictional or non-fictional manner to entertain the reader in a positive or negative way. The only mistake I can make as a writer is failing to satisfy or entertain the reader. I  took this class because individuals who aren't familiar with me,will receive the opportunity to provide me with their honest opinion on my written pieces. As an individual I don't want my writing wander anywhere but my notebook. My aspirations are not become a published author. If I  happened to be graced with that wonderful opportunity, I will cease it. For me writing is a way I express my emotions and thoughts. An escape from the struggles and sadness we often seen depicted day to day. Not only in our lives but in the lives of others.