Rachael+L

This is some of the stuff I had done from classes in my Junior year of high school mainly from creative writing class.

Before even getting into the creative writing part this next thing is mainly what I feel about writing. My forte is more of fictional writing but it works for everything I post on here as well. It just describes what writing means to me and how sane it actually makes me sound. We had to write about a home away from home paper in English class. Saying where you feel most comfortable when you’re not at home.



**Writing Escape ** To some people writing is annoying, or just don’t like doing it. To other people they like to write journals or poems. And there are people like me. Who like to write to get away from it all but write about something that may not be real. A home away from home you might want to say. Writing is an amazing thing to do. Any of my ideas or feelings are able to be pulled into the paper or a word document. Writing is my escape from any problems that I have. Since I don’t like to speak out my problems that much. I’ve learned, in a story if you’re in a bad or agitated mood. My main character or the person I’m writing or typing about becomes upset and can easily snap at someone who says the wrong thing. Or if I am mad at someone my character gets into an argument with someone and mostly wins. Unless it somehow contradicts with the story. I’ve learned that if I don’t write for a few days or not able to I get a little edgy. Since I’m not voicing my opinions to anything. Writing isn’t all about the bad days either. It’s like a day with the family one day is all chaos and the next it the perfect place to be. A lot of people don’t understand why I don’t show a lot of people my writing. Mainly because until I’m done it feels very personal to me. Which gets people very annoyed at me and they keep asking: “Can I read that?” “Come on please?” “Let me read it.” After a bit I learned how to just deal with the questions and ignore them. Only my close friends get to read it if I allow or am ready to share some of it. The things I put into the writings normally include my friends one way or another. Even if I change their hair color or names. But normally their the only ones I include, if I have someone I dislike or all of a sudden hates me for a reason or another I don’t make them the enemy of the story. Writing is my escape from everything. In them I can go wherever meet whomever. And as I write more and more the details of the places I’ve created makes it seem to come alive. I know I’m not the best writer in the world, but I am proud of what I’ve learned in the 3 to 4 years of doing it. It allows me to be me even though it’s a fictional character. It’s a home away from home, an intense dreamland and a paper best friend that you can spill everything you feel out on.

This poem is seeing which of the two can shine brighter then the other. I thought of this just to see the difference in seeing a smile from someone and a frown from someone else. Since in High School, everyone has either one or the other. So it sort of goes by what the kids will think when they see someone smiling or just frowning. Normally no one but friends notice the smile or just that they got into trouble. But there is normally so much more then that in a smile. To just brighten someone’s day or that it means their in a good mood.

**Which is Louder? A Smile or a Frown? **

A smile can be ignored You smile to the new kid They turn away Acting like it was nothing.

A frown can cover many things, You’re upset, anger, sorrow Everyone can see the true meaning Allowing you to say ‘It’s just another day’ Smiling shows people you try, Hoping to see a better day. Wanting the sun to shine a little louder Knowing today, is just a grain of the sand of life Frowning shows you’re not giving your all Only wishing the day to come to a halt Dreading the days until they end Believing that the sun will never shine louder A smile or a frown? A smile can bring hope, A smile can be contagious It can make the sun shine just a little louder.

This poem is just talking about the lovers who just got married. And it is saying how it has always been their dream to find someone like them. That they finally came to a point in their life that they can finally say is perfect. Then there are the other road blocks and different paths to travel in life that they get to take together now.

 Warm sand beneath my feet, Grateful we had the chance to meet. Our love is so true, I never want to live a day without you.
 * Beach Wedding ** 

Waves crashed against the shore, The life we knew is no more, Memories are forever, Remembering them exactly is never.

Wish I could slow down time, Once I realized you were mine. Pictures capturing memories, Every moment together creating stories.

The road is slightly paved, God knew that we prayed. Honeymoons are never forever, Endless happiness is never.

Tears were wept, Promises were kept. We’re together forever, And apart never.

You have always been the love of my life, I am so glad I am becoming your wife. Our love is so true; All I can say is “I Do”.

The Frisch’s poem was just funny to write. Having it started out with a nice calm environment to go to the waiter spilling a drink all over you. And then acting like the French fries were the best thing in this world was sort of funny. The whole poem was to get the picture of a normal day at Frisch’s with your family.



 **Frisch's **

Noises in the back, The clattering of dishes clinking together, The breakfast bar, a bar of endlessness. The waiters come with a smile wide A palm-sized notebook for food of wonders wide.

Having things from salads to sandwiches, To Eggs in the morning to fish for lunch, to steak for dinner. Fishes swimming to your plate, And always cooked to perfection.

French Fries soar in the air, __ Sizzling hot from the boiling liquid. __ That always runs from morning noon and night. Crashing on to plates, acting __like king of the deep fryer__, Everyone’s favorite side.

Joyful mood, making everyone believe This is a place of no different classes. __ Everyone is treated like royalty. __ People serving you hand and toe, Hoping that you’ll forgive them, Since they spilt the pop all over your shirt.

It sticks to skin, impossible to get out, The stain and memories will stay with your shirt forever. __ Kids bang silverware, showing that they are rock stars, __ Parents try to quiet them and their endless ruckus.

And that’s why we go Frisch’s for our Sunday lunch!

The Cat poem was interesting to write by the fact I didn’t write but one stanza of it. We passed the poems along and used a word like ‘Roar’ or something and based the next stanza on that word. Then we needed to have it have some sort of connection to the whole poem. And so it was neat to see everyone’s different writing styles on the paper within the poem.

**The Cat **


 * <span style="color: #24652b; font-family: Georgia,serif;">Meow, she begged for food **
 * <span style="color: #24652b; font-family: Georgia,serif;">Yellow eyes begging for more. **
 * <span style="color: #24652b; font-family: Georgia,serif;">Always in the mood **
 * <span style="color: #24652b; font-family: Georgia,serif;">To play with the prey to endure **

**<span style="color: #246128; font-family: Georgia,serif;">She’s behind me to stalk ** **<span style="color: #24652b; font-family: Georgia,serif;">Yawn, She follows me to bed, **
 * <span style="color: #24652b; font-family: Georgia,serif;">Roar, I hear her tummy **
 * <span style="color: #24652b; font-family: Georgia,serif;">To the kitchen I walk, **
 * <span style="color: #24652b; font-family: Georgia,serif;">To get her food that’s oh so yummy **
 * <span style="color: #24652b; font-family: Georgia,serif;">We’re tired and ready to rest. **
 * <span style="color: #24652b; font-family: Georgia,serif;">For we have a long day ahead, **
 * <span style="color: #24652b; font-family: Georgia,serif;">Because tomorrow we have to be the best. **


 * <span style="color: #24652b; font-family: Georgia,serif;">Knock, I knock on the wall, **
 * <span style="color: #24652b; font-family: Georgia,serif;">The mouse thought I was a friend. **
 * <span style="color: #24652b; font-family: Georgia,serif;">He stammered into the hall, **
 * <span style="color: #24652b; font-family: Georgia,serif;">Which is where he will meet his end. **

**<span style="color: #24652b; font-family: Georgia,serif;">Murmur, I could hear them talking, ** <span style="color: #24652b; font-family: Georgia,serif;">**As long as the mouse was not his next meal**
 * <span style="color: #24652b; font-family: Georgia,serif;">Pat, pat. The cat creeps behind the mouse, **
 * <span style="color: #24652b; font-family: Georgia,serif;">Awaiting for her yummy treat. **
 * <span style="color: #24652b; font-family: Georgia,serif;">Not a single sound in the house, **
 * <span style="color: #24652b; font-family: Georgia,serif;">Trapping her prey at her feet. **
 * <span style="color: #24652b; font-family: Georgia,serif;">As the cat and the mouse made a deal. **
 * <span style="color: #24652b; font-family: Georgia,serif;">The mouse promised the cat a large can of tuna, **

<span style="color: #1b5b79; display: block; font-family: 'Courier New',Courier,monospace; text-align: center;">This next poem is one of the poems you have to do for each english class. Some sort of work that describes your life. What had led to who you are now. And how you see the future. This of course was our first project. Just create a timeline of our life and put it together. And it didn't even have to be in order. Since we can't remember the exact time and date of what things happen that is why its called around then poems.



**<span style="color: #ff1a1a; font-family: Georgia,serif;">Around then…. **

Around 2005: I learned about the friends who will have my back forever. Around 2009: In adding a sister in law into the family, I learned that I love the dog more. Around 2007: I felt the joy of having a little niece. Around 2010: I want everything to be better. Around 2008: I knew what real disappointment was. Around 2003: I got into the accident that would change my life. Around 1993: I was welcomed into the world. Around 1998: I tried to impress my brother that I could read like him, and read Harry Potter. Around 2005: I believed my voice wasn’t heard. Around 2006: I retreated into my own world of writing. Around 2007: I learned the journal prompt: what do you think about poetry should change. Around 1999: Was the first time I could stay awake to see the ball drop. Around 2008: I decided to not care what people thought of me and said what I wanted to, even for the stupid stuff. Around 2009: I learned my friends would drag me kicking and screaming to something I actually enjoyed. Around 2010: I’m ready for the future

<span style="color: #134258; display: block; font-family: Georgia,serif; text-align: center;">This poem was sorta silly. We went on mms.com and created a MM. Then had to describe the MM we made. Make their personalities shine through the poem a little more.

<span style="color: #246128; display: block; font-family: 'Courier New',Courier,monospace; text-align: center;">Towering over everyone in pearly white heels, Seeing everything oh so high, believing nothing can stop her.

Eyes straight-ahead, starving for attention, May seem like she has a lot of pals, but really is alone.

The green skin is envy from everyone, Not knowing that green is from growth.

Wearing white gloves to match white heels, Believing the innocence will shield her from past scars.

She stands so tall, multicolor hair whipping in the air, That keep telling everyone that it’s what expresses her.

Purple eye shadow, purple and blue hair, Proving not to mess with her she’s princess high.

Smirking and sighing, seeing the same show, It’s boring, pointless but it was school

She just walks, head in the sky searching for an escape <span style="color: #24652b; font-family: 'Lucida Console',Monaco,monospace;">Showing everyone that she just doesn’t care.

<span style="color: #1b5b79; display: block; font-family: 'Courier New',Courier,monospace; text-align: center;">The next piece is a fiction story we had to do. We had to write a children's story with a social issue in it. And sort of hide it in the story. Like mine is about bullying and social acceptance. But we had to make it be a children's story.



<span style="display: block; font-family: Impact,Charcoal,sans-serif; font-size: 120%; text-align: center;">**<span style="color: #ff1a1a; font-family: Georgia,serif;">Eva and the Bully **

<span style="color: #e46cbd; display: block; font-family: Georgia,serif; text-align: center;">Eva walks down to her new classroom. She is now in 3rd grade. She wears a smile on her face, but clenches her school supplies o her chest. Now she realizes she’s in the 5th grader hall. They loom over her like trees, and is staring at Eva with eagle eyes. The smile disappears as Eva looks around confused and a little scared.. Not paying attention to Eva runs into something. She looks up to see a mean looking girl. Her arms crossed. Eva has heard of this girl before. Her name is Betsy. Everyone holds their breath. “What is a shrimp like you doing here?” Betsy asks. “I-I’m lost,” Eva stutters. “Aw poor baby,” Betsy mocks. Roughly she turns Eva around and pushes her in the direction she just came from. “It’s that way.” Eva doesn’t look back and runs to her class. Hoping that is her last meeting with Betsy, and kept it a secret. The next day at lunch, the 5th grade tables and 3rd grade tables were close enough to throw food at Eva. Betsy and her friends just laugh. Even the teachers just watch and do nothing. It lasts for 3 solid weeks! Eva doesn’t even want to come to school. Since everyone else is afraid to talk to her and doesn’t want to be picked on by Betsy either. Eva walks in her classroom to see a new teacher. And on the marker board behind the teacher’s desk was her name: Mrs. Owens. The teacher’s brown hair is up in a pony tail, and she is smiling at every child that walks in to the room. The kids put their things away and sit at their desks, waiting for instructions. “Hello class,” Mrs. Owens greets the class. “Mr. Brown is having surgery and will be out for a few months. So I will be taking his place until he returns. Now for today’s schedule~” The teacher continues to talk, as she notices Eva in the back of the classroom. Being quiet and not really paying attention to the kids around her. Even at recess there is no one around Eva. Mrs. Owens walks over to the little girl. Who is just sitting on a swing. “Why don’t you play with your classmates?” Mrs. Owens asks. “’Cause they don’t want to play with me,” Eva shrugs. Getting used to the now every day occurrence. “Now why wouldn’t they?” Mrs. Owen says smiling. “I don’t know,” Eva says, keeping her eyes on the ground. “Just don’t want to, I guess.” “So you just sit here every day, alone?” the teacher asks. Eva nods. “Well you have to be the one who changes that. Go ask those girls to play 4 square or something.” “Those are the 5th graders, no one //__ever__// asks them anything,” Eva explains. “And Betsy’s over there.” “Who’s Betsy?” Mrs. Owens asks. Eva points to the girl in the middle. Betsy and her friends look to Eva before whispering something and laughing. “Do they pick on you?” “A little,” Eva nods. Mrs. Owens gets up and goes to the school. By lunch, Betsy is already making Eva’s life horrible. She pushes her and steals her lunch, but Eva just doesn’t react. “What’s wrong over here Eva?” Mrs. Owens walks to the older girls, hands on hips. Betsy glares at Eva, thinking Eva squealed on her. “Give Eva her lunch back.” “I was making sure it didn’t fall, Eva’s clumsy like that,” Betsy threw the purple Hannah Montana lunch box back to the 3rd grader. And that’s how the rest of the week went for Eva. Betsy would start to pick on her and then Mrs. Owens would be right there to save the day. She swears she’s a super hero or something. “All right everyone get into pairs, we are going to so a group activity, and only pairs,” Mrs. Owens smiles, it is the 3rd week she was at the school. Eva is looking outside, knowing someone wouldn’t pick her, even if Betsy has backed off on the teasing. Then she hears a desk slide across the floor next to her. “Hey Eva,” Katelyn smiles to Eva. They were never really close friends before, but used to hang out on the playground. “Want to be partners?” “Sure,” Eva smiles unsure. Then school was normal for Eva. Her new friends were the kids who never were Eva’s friend were now all her best friends. And everything back to normal for Eva.

<span style="color: #1b5b79; display: block; font-family: 'Courier New',Courier,monospace; text-align: center;">Alright. After we did our Fiction unit we began to do non fiction pieces. The first one we did is to think of a memory that we remember but have to say it in someone or something's elses perspective of what happened and how they felt and what they saw, heard, thought.



**<span style="color: #ff1a1a; font-family: 'Times New Roman',Times,serif;">A Man Sitting on my Mound **

<span style="color: #800000; display: block; font-family: 'Palatino Linotype','Book Antiqua',Palatino,serif; text-align: center;">**// It’s a hot summer day in Florida, but I’ve adapted. And the tree that we live next to keeps us cool. Until a new shadow covers the mound. // // The other soldiers start clicking. It’s an outsider. One of those tall animals that walks on two legs. We see the skin lightly covered with fur. Making the two legged thing vulnerable to our pinch. It doesn’t move. // // One of the soldiers closest to the opening peeks outside before leaving the mound. The rest of us follow. Since we have to protect the mound and our Queen. // // It still doesn’t move as 10 soldiers start walking up the long legs. A hand swipes down towards where we all are. It misses all of us. Once the majority of us are attached to it, we attack. // // We dig our pinchers into the soft skin. The thing jumps up. A few of us fall off, but the rest hold tight. The thing is as tall as a big tree. // // It jumps side to side, hands swatting at its legs, trying to get us off. But we just hold onto the skin with our pinchers. It moves away from the tree and our mound. We hear weird sounds from the others like it. And we drop to the ground. Scurrying back to the safety of our mound. // //On the far wall a bunch of lines on it. To count how many times we win against those strange, tall creatures. It’s 270 to 10. They’re not so tough now are they?// **

<span style="color: #1b5b79; display: block; font-family: 'Courier New',Courier,monospace; text-align: center;">The next non fictional piece we wrote is about a famous event or a historical landmark/place. We had to describe what someone would see hear feel by going there.



**Roman Coliseum** <span style="color: #f0a10f; display: block; font-family: 'Arial Black',Gadget,sans-serif; text-align: center;"> The coliseum rises above me. The darkening sky makes the ruin seem alive again. Besides the pieces that’s destroyed. It’s the last tour of the day, I got lucky. The lights inside made it glow in gold. Letting imaginations get the best of me. Seeing shadows from the other tourists and tour guides, but acting like someone walking through the pillars. I can hear the yelling and screaming, cheering for one of the gladiators. Fighting to the death. The arena is even greater still. Looking around I see seats for 50,000 spectators watching the fight. Romans entertainment. The phantom smell of sweat and blood comes up. The wall stretches to the sky, making the night that much closer. There’s a flash from one of the many cameras. Taking in the ruin in the arena. This looked more like a way to fight, if it was still used. The gladiators would have more ways to hide from their opponents. Hiding in the shadows of broken wall or pillar. Giving them the element of surprise. Then it would be more of a fight. We walk around the building. Letting us seeing more point of views. I see a stray shadow running around. I know it’s an animal but it’ funnier to think it was a kid back in 90 A.D trying to get the best view of what is happening down below. As we leave the ruins of the great Coliseum wind rushes past us. Carrying the sounds of roars and cheering from the ghostly spectators.