ninein-theafternoon

I live life coloring inside the lines, But I use every crayon in the 120 pack box. I wander the world, admiring what I can find Through the terrain, over the rivers and rocks. I wander the world with a box of memories and a jar of dreams With my head on a platter, and my heart on my sleeve. I ponder my life with my head in the clouds and my feet planted firmly on a mountain top It's really surreal, this surreal reality. I drive for miles on a newly paved Kansas highway Seeing for miles, the meadowlark song in my ear. Breathing the air, soaking the sun of the day; Living each day on this sweet fragile blue sphere. I wander the wor

A familiar stretch of road: A length of county highway That runs along side the interstate. Over rolling hills, Corn fields, Pastures of prairie grass, and colorful native flowers. A fifteen foot wide stretch of asphault with weathered stripes and worn signs, That runs along side the interstate. It was built around the land, not through. Its travelers examine the land, stop to look appriciate think. Instead of flying by on the interstate, ignoring the land beneath the road.

By hiking alone at dusk In the Tyrol region of Austria, I was probably breaking some rules, They thought I was using the phone. But the mountain was too tempting. I started up the trail, didn't get very far. I brushed my hand against a certain alpine bush. Which caused my thumb to look like a red Christmas bulb, And sting. So I headed back to the inn Where my tour guide was having cheesecake. She told me it was common, And that licking your thumb helps. Because spit stops the sting. But the experience still called. So I left the inn with my thumb in my mouth. I decided not to take the trail, as it was getting dark, But took

A journey's a journey No matter how long No matter what happens As you go along A jorney's a journey No matter your goal Whether your ship is homebound Or to the North Pole, A journey's a journey And it will provide An adventure to make Your smile grow wide.

In a verbless world Everything ________. It ____ inconvenient and weird to ______ without verbs. Time ____ still Without verbs. The world _______ Motionless Without verbs. In a motionless world, Everything _____.

Love sometimes feels Like a strange puppeteer. With sick, yet well meaning intentions. The strings attached to my bones Guiding me Down paths I'd of never considered taking. Sometimes the puppeteer leads me down rocky roads Into caves And endless oceans I stumble on the rocks feel through the darkness And fight ocean currents But the puppeteer always leads me out again Mends my broken bones gives any broken strings a tie And lets me heal Until I'm courageous enough And prepared enough To learn from what I experience on Whatever path he sends me down.

 The experience of thinking a new situation has occurred before defines déjà vu. This sense of familiarity in writing, also referred to as "text to self" connections, transforms the text into a comfortable connection between author and reader. The writing style and point of view of short stories can bring a sense of déjà vu to their reader. Beware of the Dog by Roald Dahl, written in a third person point of view, deviates from Dahl's usual imaginative and upbeat writings.  This short story composes feelings of grief, avoidance, acceptance, and experience in its readers by examining a World War Two war hospital through t

 The term "baroque" originates from the Portuguese "barroco," meaning irregularly shaped pearl. This definition, when applied to the term "baroque," correlates with the departure from the symmetry and harmony of the Renaissance, to the drama and complexity of baroque compositions. Baroque-era compositions have influenced hundreds of years of European culture. These compositions reflect the major events, daily life, and citizen's beliefs during the seventeenth and early-to-mid eighteenth centuries. The principal stylistic characteristic that distinguishes baroque music from former eras remains the polarization of voices, the shift from the