I recently bought The Seashell Anthology of Great Poetry, arranged by Christopher Burns, for my Kindle. Included in the collection are poems by Shakespeare, Robert Frost, Carl Sagan, Emily Dickinson, and on and on and on. As my eyes scanned the extensive collection of works that spanned several different centuries, my heart fluttered in excitement. Here, before me, sitting in my hands, was a passport to so many different emotions and experiences and thoughts.
I could barely keep up with the words that were spilling over the pages. I love poetry because a good poem will mirror what you already feel inside yourself. I can relate to a poem about the ocean because I love the ocean. When couplets speak of the power of the ocean's waves, it is ever more powerful to me because I have seen those waves. The poems in the anthology cover so many topics.
Here is a sample of some of the titles, just for fun:
Jabberwocky, by Lewis Carroll
The Highwayman, by Alfred Noyes
Do Not Go Gentle into that Good Night, by Dylan Thomas
Paradoxes and Oxymorons, by John Ashbery
(Hint: These are some of my most favorite poems.)
I'll read a poem from The Seashell Anthology of Great Poetry while I wait for my tea to brew. I'll read some poems when I should be working on chemistry problems. I'll read poetry while I jog on our treadmill. (And if I trip and fall on the rotating treadmill belt, I'll fall for poetry!)
This has been my favorite poem purchase so far. I think I'll go grab a poem right now.....
Thursday, October 20, 2011
Thursday, October 13, 2011
Painting
She studied the canvas, her head tilted and eyes intent. She saw the possibilities- the picture- before any paint had even touched the canvas. Her hands reached for brushes she knew by touch alone. The tubes of paint were like old friends in her hand. Each tube could create anything she wanted. The paint could be coaxed into worlds and images and pictures at her will.
She held the brush over the canvas. With a swipe of paint she began.
The painting developed under her care. She hummed as she worked, happy that progress was being made. But when she struck a problem, nothing could be heard but the clatter of brushes against the wooden table. She stared at the canvas. She moved around it, looked at it from different angles. With a trembling hand she painstakingly added intricate details. A scrap of cloth removed unwanted paint.
The painter smiled. She lifted the canvas from the easel and held it in her hands. So much work had gone into the painting. She was tired, mentally, but inexpressible joy filled her. To be able to capture her emotions, her dreams, and her thoughts on canvas was breathtaking. She sighed and set the painting down again.
Her eyes shifted to the next empty, white canvas. An idea, a painting, was already forming in her mind.
She held the brush over the canvas. With a swipe of paint she began.
The painting developed under her care. She hummed as she worked, happy that progress was being made. But when she struck a problem, nothing could be heard but the clatter of brushes against the wooden table. She stared at the canvas. She moved around it, looked at it from different angles. With a trembling hand she painstakingly added intricate details. A scrap of cloth removed unwanted paint.
The painter smiled. She lifted the canvas from the easel and held it in her hands. So much work had gone into the painting. She was tired, mentally, but inexpressible joy filled her. To be able to capture her emotions, her dreams, and her thoughts on canvas was breathtaking. She sighed and set the painting down again.
Her eyes shifted to the next empty, white canvas. An idea, a painting, was already forming in her mind.
The Impositions of Living With Crutches
The definition of the word irony in Webster's dictionary is a literary device used for conveying meaning by saying the direct opposite of what is really meant. Well, crutches may not be a literary device, but they sure are a fine example of irony.
For example, crutches support you when you cannot support yourself. But when you use crutches to walk, you cannot carry things! What is the point of crossing the room when you cannot carry whatever it is you want to cross the room for because you need your hands to use the crutches?
Crutches are annoying. They are clunky and clanky and all together unfit for dancing or leaping or any fun activity that you wish to do. (Unless that fun activity involves sitting twenty-four hours a day.) (And is clanky even a word?)
You cannot cuddle a kitten while using crutches. You cannot go up and down stairwells with crutches. And do not even get me started on the fact that carrying a steaming cup of fabulously brewed tea to a comfy chair where a book is waiting for you is simply impossible with crutches!
Should I hire a wheel-chair butler? Should I permanently attach my butt to a skateboard? I mean, what other option are there? I guess I am resigned to crutches.
Perhaps crutches and I will become close friends. I sure hope so, as I will need them for the next few months.
For example, crutches support you when you cannot support yourself. But when you use crutches to walk, you cannot carry things! What is the point of crossing the room when you cannot carry whatever it is you want to cross the room for because you need your hands to use the crutches?
Crutches are annoying. They are clunky and clanky and all together unfit for dancing or leaping or any fun activity that you wish to do. (Unless that fun activity involves sitting twenty-four hours a day.) (And is clanky even a word?)
You cannot cuddle a kitten while using crutches. You cannot go up and down stairwells with crutches. And do not even get me started on the fact that carrying a steaming cup of fabulously brewed tea to a comfy chair where a book is waiting for you is simply impossible with crutches!
Should I hire a wheel-chair butler? Should I permanently attach my butt to a skateboard? I mean, what other option are there? I guess I am resigned to crutches.
Perhaps crutches and I will become close friends. I sure hope so, as I will need them for the next few months.
Tuesday, October 11, 2011
Em, Em-Em, Emmy, Emily
My sister Emily, or Em, Em-Em, Emmy, is my best fried. (Okay, I meant to type best friend, not best fried, but I left it there because it made me chuckle.)
Emily is one of the greatest gifts I have ever received. She understands me in a way that few people do. We can have a whole conversation with our eyes and I'll know exactly what she's "talking" about.
My adventurous sibling loves horse-back riding. She enjoys both the adrenaline-surged gallop and slow, graceful trot. When I see a picture of a horse, I think of Em's love for them.
Mi hermana es muy bonita. (Translation from Spanish to English: My sister is very beautiful.) She looks so different from me. I have dark hair, she has blonde hair. My eyes are light brown (I like saying hazel.) and Em's are an ocean blue. (Cool fact: Emily's eyes will turn green when she is immersed in either pool or ocean water... but not shower water.)
The minute a NASCAR race comes on TV, Emily is on her feet, cheering, charged up to see Dale Jr. win. Emily is brave: she fights Lyme disease, and funny: she can memorize lines from any movie after one watch and repeat them, voice altered to match the actor's.
She is crazy, cool, stubborn, lovely, weird, sometimes annoying, brilliant, and most especially my sister. I wouldn't trade her for all of the books in the world. (Even if those books, ALL OF THOSE BOOKS, were to be thrown into a fire and erased from every single computer/software database in the world.)
I love Emmy.
Emily is one of the greatest gifts I have ever received. She understands me in a way that few people do. We can have a whole conversation with our eyes and I'll know exactly what she's "talking" about.
My adventurous sibling loves horse-back riding. She enjoys both the adrenaline-surged gallop and slow, graceful trot. When I see a picture of a horse, I think of Em's love for them.
Mi hermana es muy bonita. (Translation from Spanish to English: My sister is very beautiful.) She looks so different from me. I have dark hair, she has blonde hair. My eyes are light brown (I like saying hazel.) and Em's are an ocean blue. (Cool fact: Emily's eyes will turn green when she is immersed in either pool or ocean water... but not shower water.)
The minute a NASCAR race comes on TV, Emily is on her feet, cheering, charged up to see Dale Jr. win. Emily is brave: she fights Lyme disease, and funny: she can memorize lines from any movie after one watch and repeat them, voice altered to match the actor's.
She is crazy, cool, stubborn, lovely, weird, sometimes annoying, brilliant, and most especially my sister. I wouldn't trade her for all of the books in the world. (Even if those books, ALL OF THOSE BOOKS, were to be thrown into a fire and erased from every single computer/software database in the world.)
I love Emmy.
Wednesday, October 5, 2011
So I Eavesdropped on a Conversation at our Lunch Table
"Look how many napkins I took from home," Bekah announced.
"Awesome," Abigail replied.
"Bekah, I need to talk to you."
"Hold on Katie. I'm helping Maddy."
"What?" Katie asked.
"Yeah, I'm more important," Maddy said sarcastically.
"We're all important."
"Well then."
"Bekah, help me with this problem."
"It's lunch."
"It is. Now help. I just don't understand."
"It's x + 9, and the other one is x - 4," Bekah explained.
"Yeah, but is it x - 9 or -9 - x."
Kayla said, "Bekah, you just sounded really nerdy."
"Hey!"
"Well now I feel like an idiot. Still can't figure it out," Maddy sighed.
"You're not an idiot."
"BEKAH!"
"Katie...WHAT?! I told you three times that I was helping Maddy."
"Sorry."
"Hey Katie, I liked your class devotions," Abigail stated.
"Thanks. It was short, sweet, and..."
"...to the point," she finished.
"Blow on the apple and then rub it on your shirt. It makes it shiny, see?" Kamry said to Raven.
"Yeah, Kamry, I do!"
"Anyone have a napkin?" Kayla asked.
"I do!" Bekah hollered.
"Awesome," Abigail replied.
"Bekah, I need to talk to you."
"Hold on Katie. I'm helping Maddy."
"What?" Katie asked.
"Yeah, I'm more important," Maddy said sarcastically.
"We're all important."
"Well then."
"Bekah, help me with this problem."
"It's lunch."
"It is. Now help. I just don't understand."
"It's x + 9, and the other one is x - 4," Bekah explained.
"Yeah, but is it x - 9 or -9 - x."
Kayla said, "Bekah, you just sounded really nerdy."
"Hey!"
"Well now I feel like an idiot. Still can't figure it out," Maddy sighed.
"You're not an idiot."
"BEKAH!"
"Katie...WHAT?! I told you three times that I was helping Maddy."
"Sorry."
"Hey Katie, I liked your class devotions," Abigail stated.
"Thanks. It was short, sweet, and..."
"...to the point," she finished.
"Blow on the apple and then rub it on your shirt. It makes it shiny, see?" Kamry said to Raven.
"Yeah, Kamry, I do!"
"Anyone have a napkin?" Kayla asked.
"I do!" Bekah hollered.
My Favorite Time of Year
My favorite time of year has just begun! I love fall, or autumn as some would say, which officially began on September 23rd.
I love the colors. Bold, vibrant oranges. Deep reds. Golden yellow. Here and there green leaves cling to the trees, left over from summertime. The weather changes. I switch out my summer wardrobe for chunky knit sweaters, warm fuzzy socks, and long pants.
I love stepping outside in the morning to breath in the cool air before school. It refreshes me, alluding to the crisp snow that winter will soon bring. I adjust my scarf and hat that protect me from the cold.
My dad starts stockpiling wood in our basement, ready to use in the woodstove when we need it. Momma offers to make homemade hot chocolate with milk when I get home from school.
In the fall, excitement is in the air. Thanksgiving and Christmas are on the way, offering time to meet relatives and to relax and take well-needed breaks from school. I thank God for autumn. I think the changing of the leaves, the warmth of the glow from carved Jack-o-Lanterns, and yummy pumpkin pies are fabulous!
And something else that makes me smile?
Lord willing, I will be able to enjoy autumn next year, too.
I love the colors. Bold, vibrant oranges. Deep reds. Golden yellow. Here and there green leaves cling to the trees, left over from summertime. The weather changes. I switch out my summer wardrobe for chunky knit sweaters, warm fuzzy socks, and long pants.
I love stepping outside in the morning to breath in the cool air before school. It refreshes me, alluding to the crisp snow that winter will soon bring. I adjust my scarf and hat that protect me from the cold.
My dad starts stockpiling wood in our basement, ready to use in the woodstove when we need it. Momma offers to make homemade hot chocolate with milk when I get home from school.
In the fall, excitement is in the air. Thanksgiving and Christmas are on the way, offering time to meet relatives and to relax and take well-needed breaks from school. I thank God for autumn. I think the changing of the leaves, the warmth of the glow from carved Jack-o-Lanterns, and yummy pumpkin pies are fabulous!
And something else that makes me smile?
Lord willing, I will be able to enjoy autumn next year, too.
Sitting in Study Hall
Study halls are very beneficial. I can devote fifty minutes of my school day to studying, reading, working on homework, or occasionally writing notes to friends. In a good study hall, everyone around me is working silently, with heads bent over books and fingers moving swiftly over calculator buttons. In a rambunctious study hall, I tune out the people chatting around me and concentrate on the words and formulas before me. Sometimes, on days when I am very tired, study hall allows me to "zone out" for a few minutes to rest my tired eyes and mind.
The sounds in study hall always tell me about the people around me.
Closing my eyes, the sound of quick pencil scratches across paper alludes to either A) a diligent student who loves writing or B) an impatient one who is hurrying to de done. Papers shuffle across desks, turned quickly by the hands of an anxious student who did not study for a test.
Small whispers are heard here and there. The accidental drop of a book off a desk sounds like a clap of thunder in the quiet room. Before you know it, the loud bellowing of the bell signals the end of class. Goodbye study hall!
The sounds in study hall always tell me about the people around me.
Closing my eyes, the sound of quick pencil scratches across paper alludes to either A) a diligent student who loves writing or B) an impatient one who is hurrying to de done. Papers shuffle across desks, turned quickly by the hands of an anxious student who did not study for a test.
Small whispers are heard here and there. The accidental drop of a book off a desk sounds like a clap of thunder in the quiet room. Before you know it, the loud bellowing of the bell signals the end of class. Goodbye study hall!
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