Story behind the 'Stache

It was a beautifully sunny day. The perfect day to go for a stroll across the courtyard and gather mushrooms for a little snack. "Maybe mushrooms and spaghetti for dinner," he thought to himself as he limbered up for his journey. He slipped on his bright red overalls, combed his wild mustache, and got rid of his bed head simply by wearing a cap. "Here I go!"

Upon leaving, our hero noticed a hairy beast hanging in the tree house looming over the castle grounds. "Oh, hey."

"Hey there, you wouldn't happen to have any bananas, would ya? I'm starving," his neighbor complained.

"You're always hungry."

"and you're always stomping on mushrooms, leaving a mess of your yard. Just give me a banana."

"The princess might have some, I'll check when I go back inside," he reasoned.

It wasn't long at all until he heard a familiar shriek. "Hmm," he thought, "I haven't seen that fire-breathing turtle for a while. I bet he's up to his old tricks." So our hero ran as fast as he could back to the castle.

The princess was no where to be found! He checked all the rooms, all the dungeons, all the sewers, through all the paintings and the courtyard. Then he noticed something odd. There was a tall scaffolding along the side of the castle. " but we aren't painting 'til next week," he thought to himself. At the top of the scaffolding was his extremely hairy neighbor and the princess!

"Hey! Whatcha doing?" he shouted up.

"She told me there were bananas up here, the liar! I'm so ornery!" his neighbor hollered, ornery.

"Looks like I gotta go up there," he said to himself. The scaffolding was built with a series of ladders alternating from the left to right side on each level. Some ladders were broken from the great beast. The platforms were bent and uneven, meaning a simple slip would send our hero rolling to the bottom. "Here I go!"

Thank goodness he limbered up this morning. It was a pretty simple task, running across beams and climbing ladders could've been the easiest rescue mission yet. Then he heard a loud crash. His foe was throwing down the conveniently placed barrels from the top platform! This made it a bit more difficult. It was tough, focusing on not falling off the scaffolding and jumping over the barrels as they rolled down.

At last he made it to the platform directly under his foe and the princess. With a super charged upper cut, he knocked out the beast and sent him flying back to where he came from. "I'll be back for our annual go-cart and tennis outings!" he hollered, his deep voice echoing against the castle walls.

The princess was saved! To show her gratitude, she made our hero a large plate of spaghetti.

The End.

I'll Be Home for Christmas - Part I

     "This will be your new family." The words from the social worker echoed through her mind. At sixteen years old, she'd been tossed around in the system for so long. Needless to say, her faith in it was shallow. She'd been disappointed too many times to believe that any good set up would come from it. The first two families she had forgotten; she was too young to remember them. The next, she chose to forget; their bitterness had left her heart cold. The last family was decent enough. They were kind and sincere people. However, she never felt as though she belonged there.

"I wonder what this family will be like...?"

     The question plagued her mind ever since she received the notice that she would be leaving. This time, aside from all the wordy legal notices, official documents, et cetera, they sent her what was, in her opinion, nothing short of a treasure. It was a picture; a picture beautifully composed of five bright faces; a loving smile on each one. As much as she was determined to not get her hopes up, she couldn't look at the picture without a soft smile appearing on her face; a wonder in itself. She wondered if she could still smile like they did. She wondered if she might love them as they so clearly loved each other. "Maybe this family will be the one..." Then, in realization of the danger zone she was heading into, she stopped. Whispering into the stale car air, she said: "No... you're not allowed to hope for the best." Turning her head to the window once again, she watched the world pass by.

In a few short hours, hours that would seem like an eternity, Dominique would get her first taste of life in the Carwyn home.

Ode on a sweater vest . . .

Oh sweater vest

you just scream Christmas

and I mean that literally

scream

Knitted with love

by a great grandma

you were never meant

to be a belly shirt

I suppose that explains

the screaming

Why, James?

Falling Dreams

One of those mornings I couldn't get out of bed.

Whether the reason was broken legs

or an invisible hand pressing on my chest.

I could not convince myself getting up was worth it.

Like a rocket ship I gave myself a count down.

In T minus 5 seconds I'll sit up.

It took until the 3rd lift off.

I wondered if my bed was covered in bubble wrap

as every joint in my body cracked.

Inhale, exhale and off I go.

Falling, not free falling, more horrendous.

Who would dig a bottomless pit by my bed?

How long would it have taken the culprit to dig this?

What happened to my downstairs?

What machinery could finish the job in one night so quietly?

Judging by my initial velocity and aerodynamics, how fast am I going?

Oh, if only I had my calculator.

I woke up and pondered.

How was I able to think so clearly,

when I'm hysterically falling to my doom?

I didn't get out of bed.

Today is a Good Day

sunshine radiates through window panes.
my shoulders feel the warmth.

the sun is a good friend of mine.

the room is cheery and bright,
in appearance as well as presence.

i love it when everyone's having a good day.

although we're losing a friend,
she'll be back in awhile.

she's not a marrow.

so today, stories are shared.

today...

well, today is a good day.

happy friday! :)

from Special Guest: Colby Zerbe!!

Darkness, stillness, loneliness,

All alone, I wrestle with myself,

I struggle in vain for unattainable respite from my sorrow.

A beam, a glimmer, a hope,

A smile from a stranger, a word from a friend,

At the end of a tunnel, so far away it seems only a dream.

Dreams, Goals, Images,

If dream can be destination, then I'm in pursuit,

So long it has been since I've had a purpose.

A break, a comfort, a solace,

It's funny how a touch, an embrace,

Can communicate so much more than words.

Love, happiness, sunlight,

Finally the warm sunlight dances across my face,

Finally I have found love.

ATTN: Those Who Dream.

"They will see us waving from such great heights, 

'Come down now', they'll say

But everything looks perfect from far away,

'Come down now', but we'll stay..."

- Such Great Heights by The Postal Service

People may tell you...

"Don't you dare dream too big.

You'll fail.

You'll get hurt.

Don't you dare take the long way out.

Take the easy way.

It's safer; predictable.

Don't you dare think that you can change anything.

The world has made up it's mind.

All your work will be wasted on people who simply don't care.

Here, let me think this through for you.

Let me make this decision for you.

I know what's best.

I know what's safe."

Let me you in on a little secret... Ready? Here it is:

DON'T LISTEN TO THEM!

Dare to dream big.

Yes, you will fail...

But failing will only show you what doesn't work to reach your dream.

Failing equals a new opportunity to find out what works.

Reaching one of those dreams that seems unreachable won't come without stumbling blocks.

Don't take the easy way out.

That is settling for average.

That is settling for safety.

Strive for greatness.

No, you will never change the world.

However, you can change someone's world.

Helping one person, on one day, for one minute...

That's making a life better.

Don't let others think for you.

Be courageous enough to search, find, and grow for yourself.

That's the stuff dreams are made of...

Dare to Imagine. Dare to Create. Dare to Explore. Dare to Dream.

Spit

Palms sweaty, eyes strained.

We're focused, we're determined.

The pressure is on, pressure to be the best.

I have to beat Seth.

Cards are turned over.

My hands like minnows,

moving faster than the eye,

the 1st round is mine.

It's the calm before the storm,

the cool easy water tugging at you,

sucking you in to a fury,

Seth plays me a fool.

Seth's palm crashes down,

a shock wave, ripping through the sand,

crushing my castle of dreams,

Seth wins the 2nd round

I was caught in a whirlpool.

A whirlpool of emotion spawning

from thirst, thirst of winning,

winning against Him, beating Seth.

An eternal battle of good and evil.

Poseidon vs. man made ships.

Of course the gods win in the end.

Of course I thought I was different.

It's a rip tide. I can't fight it.

My determination drowns me.

I sink down to the dark eerie waters.

Seth wins.

What's your weekly?

Hey, you guys!!!!!!

Click here to indicate which piece of writing you wish to submit for this week's eval. I'll give you time now to marvel at the organization.

Ode to a first impression

Why oh why

God why

do I always present myself

in a way in which anyone

meeting me has no other choice

but

to conclude that I am

1. a stark raving lunatic

2. a charismatic healer of some kind

or

3. an idiot

just once---

just one time before I die

could I just appear as I am meant

to appear

appear as I really am

as I truly wish to be perceived

as I should be perceived . . .

just one time

but

maybe if you get to know me better

Ode to not caring about the class

Hey, I do care about the class

I'd bring my best game but

I left it in the back pockets of the jeans I wore to the game Friday

now that was good game

I'd drink long and deep from the fountain of knowledge

but my mom said too much caffeine will

stunt my growth and I'm really hoping to be a supermodel

or at least a paid spokesperson

Gotta get my 15 minutes

and if it means I can't study for the test then

I guess I'll just deal with it later right now

I have to update my facebook page

I'd think about that now but

I think I'm getting a text message and

this one might be important

All that thinking about thinking anyway

What do I need all that for?

But I care and why'd you take off those points?

Salesman's Lullaby

I thought it was a rug.

I thought it was a fluffy pillow.

Then I thought it was a fluffy pillow with dripping wet fangs

and a jaw like a bear trap.

It might've been a crocodile, a crocodile with kangaroo legs.

That thought came when it sprung up with the speed of a missile

and those ghastly incisors latched onto my arm.

All to sell 10 bucks worth of clementines.

THURSDAY, NOVEMBER 5, 2009

Greetings Creative Writing students, one and all!

On this, the day I learned that William Shatner, one of my personal heroes, has been immortalized and enshrined in wax at Madame Tussaud’s Wax Museum---as Captain Kirk [photo left from http://www.exploreli.com/topics/Hollywood]---need I say more?----I am officially posting to the blogs [because the wiki refuses to hold up its end of the bargain and actually function as a space] my ideas about class requirements. And here they are:

But first, allow me to add this!

I'm thinking that a good way to fulfill our requirements that I, as your teacher, actually make assignments and grade your work might be to do the following:

Genre Selection: Your call, mostly.

Number of written pieces: 1 per week for a weekly "did I create anything?" score

[necessary for edline update purposes]. These pieces will

be posted to the blog or submitted using googledocs to the wiki or just left

on googledocs for that matter.

Formal graded pieces: 1 every 4 weeks for a "big" grade. You select your best piece. Submit it with a "defense for submission"---what makes this your best piece?

Evaluation of Formal piece: Self, Peer, Teacher

Rubrics: To be created collaboratively by all of us in our next discussion post. [If the wiki ever works.]

The Big Thing: Individual Writing Portfolio, the contents and presentation medium of which we will discuss later.

So----tell me what you think. Use this discussion board [but you can't because the wiki remains recalcitrant---just use comments] to input your ideas on requirements, grading, portfolio format.

A Little Piece in Honor of Halloween.

We were the best of the best.

Our orange glow could rival any in the world.

We stood for something;

for fun, for joy, for life.

And then...

Then they came.

Hordes of them.

Plucking us up out of the ground,

they took us away.

They took us and the carved us up;

shaped us into what they wanted to be.

And all of this pales in comparison to this one fact:

I am so flippin' ugly!

I wasn't even carved into something nice for crying out loud!

Who attempts to carve abstract thought on a pumpkin?

Really? No seriously, really?!

I mean really people, if you're going to shove a knife into my hide,

please make it something worth looking at!

Not to mention make it something that the children will enjoy!

You are a brave soul displaying such a huge fail right on your front porch!

I thought I knew what ridiculous was before this day!

Oh how you've proved me wrong!

I hope my seeds that you so kindly took from me and shoved them in the oven make you sick!

Fool!

Let me rot before I insult you a second time!

***

Happy Halloween!

Ploop Ploop Ploop

Don't tell her, ain't gonna happen.

Don't ask me, cause I'm not your mommy.

Please don't put me in a picture with Glenn Beck,

you're making me uncomfortable.

See what I'm saying, get what I'm saying??

I have a class, its miserable but you can come.

I think you've been pretty good girls

so I won't make your life a living hell.

I'm funny oh I'm funny,

Oh you don't think so but I am hilarious.

Show gun Japanese... Japanese Haiku,

you'd be the cool person.

You should feel weird, you're weird.

James why are you looking up here like that?

I miss Sara when she's at gym.

Aww for crying out loud!

Crippa crap!

for God's sake!

It's a magical sitar!

Blah blah bah mah uhh...

GET OUT!

Im going to get a hamburger.

It's really gross but I'm gonna eat it anyway,

and we'll all go ooohh!

People make me sick.

This has been a compilation of Rut's sayings.

Because they're afraid to . . . I mean, because they can't post here . . .

TheLiz and Ben have asked me to come on here and "taunt you a second time-a." So there. Next--they start lobbing holsteins over the battlements--metaphorically speaking. I mean, if by blog war, you meant sparring by alternately posting fabulous poetry followed by more fabulous poetry, I think you two are conducting yourselves quite nicely. The other warriors, however, are just confused.

Maybe you should invite the aforementioned bloggers to post on your blog.

TheLiz said, "Your mother was a hamster, and your father smelt of elderberries."

Ben said, "Your mother was an astronaut." I'm not sure he quite understands the concept of taunting.

Much love.

Oh, wait. Their final message: "If 'it's on like donkey kong,' you're gonna have to bring it."

You go Jamess!!!!

I'm trying not to state the obvious here, but our little Jamess has become quite the prolific poet lately. I'm still obsessing over my first attempts . . . My congrats to you Jimmy James!

Still Crazy After All These Years

He worked in a wood shop

she went to school.

She passed him one day

and smiled. 

She is a bowler,

a nurse, a cook.

Ask him about engines

he wrote the book.

They've been across America

for a glimpse, for a show.

They met at a square dance

"and she never let me go."

Now he hides his limp

his bruised thumb, his sweet tooth.

She pretends not to catch it,

and smiles.

Through all their moments,

all the laughter, all the tears,

Paul Simon said it best,

"Still crazy after all these years."

At the Bottom of Everything by Bright Eyes

I think the story and song are trying to say that death 

is a part of life and we might as well accept it joyfully.  

We spend too much time worrying while we should be 

living life to the fullest. And the part where it says, "while 

my mother waters plants, my father loads his gun" thats 

talking about Mother Earth supporting us and God, our 

Father, has the power to give and take away our life at 

any moment.

What do you guys think?

video courtesy of www.youtube.com

My Apology

"I'm sorry for what I do."

pale faces, vulgar lights

cold steel, wet leather,

soaked with tears, sweat, brine

engine pumping, warming up

a condemned man,

2450 volts.

Hydroplanes

Spitting across the Ninevah Galaxy,

the Silver Bullet, cutting through venomous rain,

Copilot cries, "Red Alert!  Heifers at 12 o'clock!"

We're ready.  It's cake.

The first wave wasn't cake.

Loosing my grip, loosing control,

but we recover.

The next wave struck us starboard,

A raging wall, a maddening roar

but we recover.

They come again, dive bombing.

THUD THUD THUD

Tearing through our ship

THUD THUD THUD

this could be the end.

A sudden light, sudden salvation,

Back on track, back to school,

How boring.

A Rat is a Pig is a Dog is She.

A rat is a pig is a dog is a boy.
That's what the woman told me.
She looked in my eyes,
and then to the skies and said:
"This is what I believe."

I looked at the sky and then to the ground,
thoughts running to and fro.
I refused to believe what She had perceived.
To her back I simply said, "No."

A young girl I love is afraid of rats.
Is she now afraid of me?

And a pig east garbage and is slaughtered for food.
Will I meet the same fate as he?

A dog may be faithful but he's reigned by a master.
Will man set limits for me?

Surely it seemed that this couldn't be.
To her silhouette I simply said, "No."

As I sat there oh so quietly,
I wondered how sad her life must be,
for life must be dreary for her to believe,
that a rat is a pig is a dog is She.

In A Moment

She was only an ordinary woman waiting to catch a taxi.

Then, in a moment, everything changed.


There was a light breeze, which entangled itself in her long locks of brown curls. The sun shone through the clouds lighting up her crystal blue eyes. Clutching her wool coat with one hand, nails painted red, the other was raised in the air in such a seemingly delicate manner, that it appeared as though she were royalty. Her face seemed to be perfectly cut in the cold air, and her skin shone perfectly in the light.


Had I had a piece of paper and a pen with me, I would have asked for her autograph.


But the breeze died down, the clouds covered the sun, and her moment of fame was gone. However, it will always be engrained in my memory.

Even ordinary people are extraordinary... even if it's only for a moment.

This Very Day.

Young minds sit behind the white screens of machinery,
fingers relentlessly working away.
"What are we supposed to write about?" they say.
Deep down they know.
Yes, they know.

Across the way,
an irritated women posts a blog.
Mainly for the fact that the children,
the older children,
on whom she relied on to post,
hadn't posted at all.

And so,
this poem,
this creative poem,
on a creative writing blog,
on this very day,
is in honor of the young minds,
and the irritated woman,
of the honors english class.

May you always care about the class.

Well, where is it????

Let's get to creating! For crying out loud. Do I have to do everything myself?

Ode to Rut

A hubristic eagle, graceful and majestic, spirals in a deathly dance, descending merciless on its prey.  Another day in Ms. Rutkowski's.  :)

Hi, Geniuses

I like this picture soooo much that I'm leaving it up here even though we have completely changed our mission and my initial ennui is all but gone.

Looking forward what ensues,

KR