Great Poem By Emily Dickinson - Death

Because I could not stop for Death,
He kindly stopped for me;
The carriage held but just ourselves
And Immortality.

We slowly drove, he knew no haste,
And I had put away
My labor, and my leisure too,
For his civility.

We passed the school, where children strove
At recess, in the ring;
We passed the fields of gazing grain,
We passed the setting sun.

Or rather, he passed us;
The dews grew quivering and chill,
For only gossamer my gown,
My tippet only tulle.

We paused before a house that seemed
A swelling of the ground;
The roof was scarcely visible,
The cornice but a mound.

Since then 'tis centuries, and yet each
Feels shorter than the day
I first surmised the horses' heads
Were toward eternity.

Children's Book

I never realized how talented children's book authors are until I had to make one for my creative writing class. Seriously, with a kids book you have to come up with an age appropriate moral and an interesting story all in one. My writing was laughably bad for this assignment; I wrote about a girl who was too tall but felt better after seeing how tall the giraffes were. Plus, we had to illustrate it, and I'm definitely no drawer. For that I turned to my scrapbooking. This is my favorite page from my 10 page book, mainly because of the illustration (I didn't draw the giraffe or the lion, I just printed them from google images).

For the ground, I used a bunch of different colors of brown torn up paper and a little bit of brown paint. The same goes for the pond & the greenery.

Poem- Satriani

That's actually not the title, I'm just supremely lazy and horrible with titles. It is a line from the poem though. This is from an assignment we did titled "Home & Family"

A riff
a string
Satriani
a rattle
a pot
overflowing
a puff
a mattress
Inflating
a click
a key
Opening
A shriek
a hug
my family's home

Poem- Change

Modeled after a soliloquy from Shakespeare's Macbeth.
I think I really like this one because it's more formalized/very stylistic. I don't ordinarily like non free verse poems of mine, but this one is a bit whimsical.

Yesterday, and today, and tomorrow,
Change creeps in on stockinged feet from dawn till dusk
Greeting victims with deceptive smiles;
And all our yesterdays are seemed forgotten
'Till tomorrow appears. Come, come, dear change!
Life's but a still sailboat; a ship without wind,
That rocks and sails the quiet endless sea,
Searching for a port; it is a life
Unwanted by the living, bereft of passion,
Signifying nothing