tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12020180410021107612024-03-05T21:00:46.144-08:00Bookworm's NookBookwormRonihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00956004227151229217noreply@blogger.comBlogger34125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1202018041002110761.post-83099304261471193702017-12-09T16:05:00.002-08:002017-12-09T16:05:23.746-08:00Love III<span id="docs-internal-guid-4dcb31d3-3daf-6d16-f8e8-5faf6a186934"></span><br />
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<span id="docs-internal-guid-4dcb31d3-3daf-6d16-f8e8-5faf6a186934"><span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 11pt; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Love bade me welcome. Yet my soul drew back</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 11pt; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 11pt; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 11pt; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Guilty of dust and sin.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 11pt; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">But quick-eyed Love, observing me grow slack</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 11pt; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 11pt; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 11pt; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">From my first entrance in,</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 11pt; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Drew nearer to me, sweetly questioning,</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 11pt; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 11pt; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 11pt; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">If I lacked any thing.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 11pt; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">A guest, I answered, worthy to be here:</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 11pt; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 11pt; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 11pt; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Love said, You shall be he.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 11pt; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I the unkind, ungrateful? Ah my dear, </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 11pt; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 11pt; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 11pt; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I cannot look on thee.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 11pt; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Love took my hand, and smiling did reply,</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 11pt; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 11pt; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 11pt; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Who made the eyes but I?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 11pt; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Truth Lord, but I have marred them: let my shame</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 11pt; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 11pt; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 11pt; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Go where it doth deserve.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 11pt; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">And know you not, says Love, who bore the blame?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 11pt; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 11pt; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 11pt; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">My dear, then I will serve.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 11pt; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">You must sit down, says Love, and taste my meat:</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 11pt; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 11pt; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 11pt; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">So I did sit and eat. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 11pt; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> “Love bade me welcome. Yet my soul drew back/ Guilty of dust and sin.” How often do we balk at our own infirmities and unworthiness and draw back from merciful Love in shame. So many saints are quick to assure the Christian faithful that the great and almighty Lord is crazed with passion for even the basest sinner. He runs to rescue the fallen, dejected sheep, the stubborn, headstrong lamb. “But quick-eyed Love, observing me grow slack/ Drew nearer to me.” He never abandons, and rather, always runs toward the wayward and gently approaches the timid, ever “sweetly”, ever attentive and responsive to the inner workings of the heart of the beloved. “Do you lack any thing?” Is there anything I can give to you, can supply for you, to be more at ease with me?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 11pt; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> Oh, but Love, I am not “worthy to be here”; either leave me for someone more worthy or fix me to be a better man. “Oh, but I indeed shall make you worthy,” replies Love with all tenderness and sweetness. I must turn my gaze away, for could I dare to look at pure brilliance with my soiled sight? But still He takes my hand and tells me that He Himself made mine eyes, so why should I not look at Him? </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 11pt; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 11pt; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> Ah, but these eyes are sullied now, no longer so bright and innocent as once they were. “I have marred them.” I’ve accrued a terrible, heavy shame. “Know you not...who bore the blame?” Indeed, I bore the blame for these sins, bore them to purify you anew. “My dear, then I will serve [you]. You must sit down, says Love, and taste my meat.” So now, can we do “sit and eat”, eat freely of Love Himself, drink freely of the wine flowing from His lips, which bestow the kisses of His most lovely mouth into our very beings. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 11pt; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“I am always waiting for [sinners], that I will intently to the beating of their heart… When will it beat for me?” (Faustina's </span><span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 11pt; font-style: italic; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Diary</span><span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 11pt; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">, 1728). </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 11pt; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">.October 27, 2017.</span></div>
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<span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: "arial";"><span style="font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">~It's been a </span><span style="font-size: 14.666666984558105px; white-space: pre-wrap;">little while, but I've been </span></span></span><span style="font-family: "arial";"><span style="font-size: 14.666666984558105px; white-space: pre-wrap;">writing a lot this fall—honing my craft, so to speak—and I want to share some of the beauty I've encountered lately. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial";"><span style="font-size: 14.666666984558105px; white-space: pre-wrap;">Dr. Regis Martin shared this poem in his class on Spirituality this October at the Clearwater School. It's really moved me and I wrote this little reflection on it. I hope it reminds you how very loved you are. </span></span></div>
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BookwormRonihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00956004227151229217noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1202018041002110761.post-2471495554432659842015-11-11T15:26:00.001-08:002015-11-11T15:26:15.632-08:00Antigone: A Poem<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: 'Times New Roman';">
Ismene and Antigone—two sisters</div>
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outside the gates of Thebes,</div>
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Ismene with vacillating determinations,</div>
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Antigone indomitable to the closing.</div>
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Recently returned from a journey lately ceased,</div>
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they hear their brothers both are lately deceased.</div>
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<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Strong Eteocles, defending his country</div>
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<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>slain by his brother Polyneices, traitorous and greedy</div>
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<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>in a tussle for the throne. </div>
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The loss of two brothers once,</div>
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turned enemies at the end,</div>
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sisters too late to save them,</div>
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just in time to hear the decree,</div>
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as they heartbrokenly mourn<br />
they hear: Polyneices never shall be borne</div>
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into the earth, left above ground. </div>
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Their royal uncle Creon, jealous is he</div>
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Jealous of the throne, intent on bending</div>
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the population to his will, </div>
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as he honors Eteocles as Hero</div>
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censures Polyneices as Renegade</div>
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—forbidding his burial—</div>
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vultures for the traitor will fit his bill.</div>
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Dismayed by this revelation, Antigone mourns,</div>
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the sister’s heart inside her bewailing the loss</div>
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she suffers by her brothers’ death, </div>
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furthered by disrespect shown Polyneices.</div>
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Determined, she declares “I’ll do my best,</div>
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to honor both brothers, disobey,</div>
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and bury Polyneices.</div>
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Will you join me?”</div>
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Ismene refuses to accompany</div>
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Antigone on her wily</div>
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attempt to honor their brother,</div>
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“Why risk more woe?”</div>
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And so Antigone goes alone</div>
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to do what she may to pay respects to the dead.</div>
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Antigone lingers, sprinkling dust on Polyneices’ body</div>
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weeping, mourning the memory of her brother…</div>
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But a wandering countryman finds her handiwork,</div>
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rushing to the palace, to inform Creon,</div>
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“Burial rites performed on Polyneices’—</div>
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but please it was not me!”</div>
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The incensed king orders the witness,</div>
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“Find that person or peril on your existence!”</div>
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Terrified, the man apprehends Antigone, caught her in the act,</div>
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and to the tyrant Creon, brings her back.</div>
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Enraged that a citizen, his own niece</div>
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disregards his will so totally</div>
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he orders her to be imprisoned,</div>
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buried alive and left to die.</div>
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Despair encompasses Ismene</div>
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<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>fearful to live with her sister not</div>
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<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>determined to share Antigone’s lot</div>
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But the condemned testifies to her innocence</div>
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and Creon cares only for the violator, not the sister,</div>
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—Ismene left in tears</div>
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—Antigone sealed without fears.</div>
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Remembering the crimes of her father,</div>
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destiny visiting her today for yesterday’s sin,</div>
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Antigone knows her fate, ready to</div>
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wed personified death, her expiration,</div>
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peaceful, glad, in the face of death.</div>
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Finding a rope, twists it to a knot, </div>
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“O welcome Death! Now you have me, I am yours!”</div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: 'Times New Roman';">
these were her last words.</div>
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Tiresias, blind prophet, approaches,</div>
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warns Creon of his error,</div>
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“Your offsprings’s ruin,</div>
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your son for the murder of your niece,</div>
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punishment for the destruction of budding beauty.”</div>
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The gods against him, they be,</div>
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incensed by your cheek,</div>
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to make yourself into one like them.”</div>
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Creon irritated that his decree</div>
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be overturned by those holding </div>
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greater power than he, </div>
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he vacillates, unwilling.</div>
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“How dare you say</div>
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the gods, clear as day,</div>
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want the girl released?”</div>
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Townspeople cry, “Tiresias never lied to Thebes, </div>
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and all his prophecies ring true,</div>
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your grief shall surely come</div>
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if you leave the girl to die, you’ll rue.”</div>
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Decided, Creon realizes</div>
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the petty risks he takes</div>
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to uphold himself, why try</div>
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if it only brings more misery?</div>
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Creon rushes to the tomb,</div>
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intent now to free Antigone to save his own.</div>
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But alas, too late:</div>
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already Antigone has strung and swung her rope,</div>
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acquiescent to death, she’s welcomed her grave, wide-armed—</div>
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Haëmon is distraught. He came</div>
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to rescue her, that they may live together,</div>
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free from his father’s limits,</div>
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but he found her dead already,</div>
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swinging on her rope.</div>
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Creon has arrived too late, </div>
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to free her now useless,</div>
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as his flesh and blood Haëmon </div>
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turns on him in rage</div>
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brandishing a sharp sword</div>
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but Creon springs away, does not witness</div>
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his son running on the sword in distress.</div>
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Sentry reaches royal palace first, </div>
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announces ruin of Haëmon and Antigone,</div>
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and Eurydice, lady of the house,</div>
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struck by the sudden death </div>
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of son and daughter both, </div>
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whirling emotions, retreating to her chambers with a knife…</div>
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Mourning Creon enters his home,</div>
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“Oh, what have I done?”</div>
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The messenger enters—Haëmon’s suicide—</div>
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the prophecy fulfilled,</div>
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the weak-willed boy too tormented</div>
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to live without the love</div>
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his father has destroyed.</div>
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Creon anguished further,</div>
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turns for consolation,</div>
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reaching for Eurydice, a warm embrace,</div>
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only to receive more woe—</div>
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his wife—a son’s death—despair—and she has pierced herself,</div>
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slain herself like Haemon,</div>
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devastated by a mother’s grief…</div>
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All for a mistake of his proud whims,</div>
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no family or relief for him—</div>
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with wails and moans,</div>
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Creon is left alone.</div>
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—I wrote this last month in place of an essay while I studied Sophocles. I particularly like it, so I wanted to share. I am currently working on a prose reworking of <i>The Aeneid</i>, about which I am also excited. I have really enjoyed choosing creative writing projects rather than the dry essays I typically am tasked (at least, I find them dry. I have not quite struck a balance in essays, though I am finding a groove.) Peace.</div>
BookwormRonihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00956004227151229217noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1202018041002110761.post-90892741555832056192015-01-16T07:24:00.001-08:002015-01-16T07:24:16.387-08:00Shakespeare Using Gloucester and Lear<div style="font-family: 'Times New Roman';">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">Prompt: Compare and contrast Gloucester and Lear, focusing on their choices, their adherence to kingly or noble ideals, their relationships with their children, their level of wisdom and humility (at the beginning and end of the story), and/or other parallels you might find interesting. Be sure to integrate quotes from the text to support your comparisons. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"> Through the differences and similarities between Lear and Gloucester, Shakespeare reaches his audience in a relatable way in <i>King Lear</i>. Though Shakespeare wrote <i>King Lear</i> based on several older stories, he added the sub-plot of Gloucester and his children. Because of the addition of Gloucester to the story, it is clear that Shakespeare meant for the correlations and contrasts between Lear and Gloucester to add to the thematic development in <i>King Lear</i>. For example, Gloucester’s physical blindness can be seen in Lear, when he is blind to the truth of his daughters’ love for him; these two instances of sightlessness makes the theme of blindness in <i>King Lear </i>more poignant. </span></div>
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<b> </b>Though Lear loses his sanity and Gloucester loses his sight, in some way, each also has the other’s problem.<b> </b>In the beginning for the book when Lear is starting to lose his sanity, he begins to lose sight of the truth, a figurative blindness. When he finally learns the truth of Goneril and Regan, Lear laments, “O, Fool, I shall go mad!” In contrast, after first becoming physically blinded, Gloucester slowly begins to lose hints of his sanity. His state of suffering—emotional and physical—and sightlessness was enough to send him a little over the edge. Causing one to think about one's own sightlessness and loss of reality, these contrasts and similarities between the two men’s encounters with the metaphors of sight and insanity add depth to the reading of <i>King Lear.</i></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"> Gloucester and Lear both have opportunities to learn from their decisions and those of their children. When Gloucester discovers that Edmund has been lying to him, Gloucester is beside himself in grief and longs to see Edgar, the son that he has previously written off, saying, “O dear son Edgar…/Might I but live to see thee in my touch.” When Lear learns that his older daughters are deceiving him, Lear becomes angry and upset, but when he finds his youngest daughter Cordelia, his disposition lightens and he turns happier. In these circumstances of their children’s betrayals and reunions with their faithful children, the two fathers have very similar reactions. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"> Gloucester and Lear relate to their children in very different ways. Being wealthy, both Lear and Gloucester have money, property, and titles that their children could inherit. King Lear plans to gift his children with their inheritance; Gloucester’s Edmund devises a plot to use his father’s goodness and steal his brother’s inheritance. Gloucester and Lear approach their children’s love and loyalty for them differently as well. Though both listen to words, not actions, Lear gives each of his daughters a chance to speak for themselves. He goes to all of his daughters, asking whether each loves him. Imploring Cordelia to “mend her speech” when her expression of love is simple, he wants to believe she loves him more greatly than her sisters. Unlike Lear, however, Gloucester only listens to what Edmund has to say; when Edmund goes to his father first, Gloucester does not even attempt to ask Edgar for what he might have to say. Though Lear and Gloucester both take their children at their word, Gloucester is not concerned with talking to both of his sons before reaching a decision about them, as Lear does with his daughters. Lear is desperate for his daughters to love him; Gloucester is ready to believe, without much thought, that Edgar is devising a plot to kill him. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"> In Shakespeare’s play, Gloucester and Lear are similar in many ways. They have similar lessons to learn and they are both affected by their children’s actions. Though in different ways, the themes of insanity, blindness, and family love are all present in both Gloucester and Lear. Not surprisingly, their reactions to and experiences of similar situations have their differences; they are different people. Through the characters of Gloucester and Lear, Shakespeare portrays how two people will respond to similar situations in very different ways. Since people rarely have the exact same circumstances in their life and they rarely respond to them in the same way, it would be hard to relate to a story with characters with identical lives, and this is what makes Shakespeare’s plays universal and beloved by so many.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">--This is, obviously, an essay on Shakespeare's play <i>King Lear</i>. I got a 97 on this paper (though I've already made some of the slight changes my teacher suggested). I want to publish my papers on my blog, but I get so caught up in the actually writing-of-the-papers that I have been forgetting to do that, so, as I think of it when needing a break, I'll try to catch up. </span></div>
BookwormRonihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00956004227151229217noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1202018041002110761.post-81482439514939928662014-11-23T10:05:00.000-08:002014-11-23T10:05:03.558-08:00John Milton<div style="font-family: 'Times New Roman';">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><b>Name</b>: John Milton</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"> <b>Birth: </b>December 9, 1608<b><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Place: </b>London</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><b> Death: </b>November 8, 1674<b><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Place: </b>London</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Best Known Works: <i>Paradise Lost</i>, <i>Lycidas</i>, <i>Comus</i>, “On the Morning of Christ’s Nativity”, “On Shakespeare”.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Brief Biography</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"> As inspiration for his writing, Milton drew largely from his own experiences. After each of the deaths of his second wife, two friends, and his sister’s unborn baby, Milton penned poignant poems of grief. Involved with the politics of his day, Milton wrote many pamphlets by order of the Cromwellian government, for which he worked from 1649 until Oliver Cromwell’s death (Luminarium). He also wrote two treatises on divorce after his first wife left him for several years in the beginning of their marriage. Having had the opportunity to meet Galileo earlier in his life, Milton alluded to the genius from Italy many years later in the composition of <i>Paradise Lost</i> . Living during the Renaissance, Milton was exposed to the increased interest in the Renaissance of classical culture. Accordingly, Milton included references in much of his poetry to mythological figures and stories of both Greek and Roman origin. Milton was also influenced by the Protestant Reformation, and he wrote several religious pamphlets along with his political works. Milton’s legacy lives on as a result of the scope and breadth of his work due to its universal and timeless themes as he experienced them in his own life.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Jokinen, Anniina. "Life of John Milton." <i>Luminarium</i>. 21 June 2006. 30 October 2014. http://www.luminarium.org/sevenlit/milton/miltonbio.htm</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Petri Liukkonen. <i>Pegasos.</i> n.p., 2008. Web. 31 October 2014. http://www.kirjasto.sci.fi/jmilton.htm</span></div>
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 12px; letter-spacing: 0px;">Ruth Rushworth. “Milton’s language”. </span><i style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 12px; letter-spacing: 0px;">darkness visible</i><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 12px; letter-spacing: 0px;">. Christ’s College. n.p., n.d. 30 October, </span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 12px; letter-spacing: 0px;">2014 </span><span style="font-size: x-small;">http://darknessvisible.christs.cam.ac.uk/language.html</span><br />
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><br /></span></div>
-Using a format from the textbook, this is an author profile I wrote for my British Literature course. It's only the second time I've used citations, so I'm still working on that. </div>
BookwormRonihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00956004227151229217noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1202018041002110761.post-48937921045709633362014-02-12T12:39:00.001-08:002014-02-12T12:39:36.139-08:00Brainstorming. With a period.Guess what? Cool Irish Writer (NOT Irish Girl) inspired me to write part of my Emily! I haven't written (like that) in ages, and it feels so good to have 2 hours simply set aside for writing something! And I also realized the hard part was thinking about stuff like logistics, or whatever you want to call it, of particulars in the story/background line. Well no longer! I wrote part of the middle, one of my favorite scenes in the whole thing, like the whole thing, like my absolute favorite scene and it's not good. At all. Not at all what I want. At all. Like it doesn't have enough... Stuff in the middle of key moments, but it's so good to just be able to write, and write what you want without pressure! I don't do enough anymore, but I think I will, because it was pretty cool. <div><br><div>Anyway, to post it, I'd have to write some of the middle. </div><div><br></div><div>What I COULD do is make videos. See Emily started as a bedtime story, so it's been pretty hard to a) recall details and b) articulate stuff that was pretty ambiguous, and just kind of understood. But I could write myself a plot and make videos of myself telling the story, in the voice it's comfortable in, but odd to read, semi passive. ( It's been a pretty hard trying to voice it in an easy to read way.) </div><div><br></div><div>So anyway, I might try that. Or, on the other hand, I might not. </div><div><br></div><div>OR I could make the videos, then get my little helpers and write it all down. That would be good. Actually, really good. So then I could post a raw, originally intended version, along with a cut, edited, readable version.</div><div><br></div><div>So, maybe expect some updates on that. If you see me on a regular basis please hold me accountable to this... and offer to help. Haha. I'm pretty shy in asking for feedback, but I sorely need it. </div><div><br></div><div>Okay then, I think that's it. </div></div><div><br></div><div>Toodles!</div><div><br></div><div>-Bookworm</div>BookwormRonihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00956004227151229217noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1202018041002110761.post-48297082139468928582014-01-14T07:04:00.001-08:002014-01-23T02:01:35.429-08:00Yes, I've been a slacker. A big one.<div style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875); -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); ">Happy 2014! It's crazy because it still feels like <b>2013</b> is new!! I guess not :)</div><div><br></div><div>I've been feeling rather sheepish to post anymore, but I've read a lot of authors' advice, and decided I'm not up to the task of writing a whole book yet. It's one thing to come up with a story and another to sort through it, and I'm a very particular writer, and it's too hard to try to think of anything the way I want to to actually get it done. So the rest of that story is postponed, for now. </div><div><br></div><div>So, if I ever get any writing assignments again, I'll post them, but right now I haven't been getting any. (Hint hint, mom.) Thank you for your patience. Although I don't know, maybe whoever out there hasn't been patient at all. In that case, well too bad. </div><div><br></div><div><br></div><div>Bookworm Roni</div>BookwormRonihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00956004227151229217noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1202018041002110761.post-81820496730849074382013-06-11T14:20:00.004-07:002013-06-11T14:20:54.943-07:00This is where it gets weird: Chapter 2<br />
The door slammed shut behind her. Emily whirled around, yet could see nothing in the blackness, and feeling around awarded no cracks or handles or any clue that the door had been there in the first place. Emily became suddenly afraid. "You were foolish and acted quite rashly", she chastised herself, much in the same way as <i>Alice from Wonderland</i>. Emily became filled with regret as she stood in the dark.<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span><br />
But not for long. For out of the black came a person. Humanoid, but very distinctly not so. It began speaking very rapidly.<br />
<br />
"<b>Bed bea geb, deb bea geb, deb bea geb cade beag</b>?"<br />
<br />
"Excuse me sir, I don't know what you are saying," Emily rather timidly and quizzically replied, wondering if she had been right to call it a sir.<br />
<br />
The <b>FedFaded</b>, for that is what it was, made no reply, looking stunned out of speech.<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Emily took this time to asses the situation: she was in her piano, 1-1/2 inches tall with a being that look like a dwarf (or was it a gnome?) spewing gibberish at length. Was it safe for her to speak to this creature?<br />
Emily giggled at the thought. The creature hardly seemes dangerous, with an odd piece of wood looking quite like an instrument strapped to his back.<br />
<br />
She began, "My name is Emily Baden. I was playing my piano when-"<br />
<br />
"Your piano? YOUR piano?!" the creature exclaimed. "Don't you mean the <b>Piano of FedFad</b>?"<br />
<br />
"FedFad?" Emily repeated. Then she remembered: THOSE were the notes she had played. Her piano's manufacturer was <b>FedFad </b>too...<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Emily was in her dreams again. She recalled the first time she had noticed that no one else's piano said <b>FedFad</b>. Everyone else's said Yamaha or Young Chang. Emily asked her parents about it one night.<br />
"Well Emily, that piano has been in your mama's family a long time; nowadays people are buying Yamahas and the like.<b> FedFad</b> just isn't well known anymore," her father has said. Her mother had made no comment.<br />
<br />
But Emily hadn't believed that. She searched the Internet for "Fed Fad". It was a fruitless search. Emily had soon forgotten about the whole thing, yet still felt an odd tingling whenever she saw the piano, like she knew she had forgotten something.<br />
<br />
But now it was rapidly returning to her, and the question still loomed: What is <b>FedFad</b>? And now there was the question: How had she forgotten?<br />
<br />
"How do you know about <b>FedFad</b>?" was the only question Emily asked aloud, and warily at that.<br />
<br />
"How do <i>I</i> know about <b>FedFad</b>?" the man scoffed. "This IS <b>FedFad</b>!" The creature looked quite offended. He began muttering to himself and wringing his hands.<br />
<br />
Emily wasn't even paying attention anymore. She exclaimed to herself, "So this is FedFad!"<br />
<br />
The creature stopped dead and nearly shouted, "<b>Egad</b> this is <b>FedFad</b>; what else would it be, <b>ababd</b>?!" slipping unconciously into the language of <b>Gab</b>.<br />
<br />
"<b>Ababd</b>?" Emily repeated.<br />
<br />
The creature stared at her. He had waited so long, waiting, watching, giving up everything life could offer, for this?<br />
<br />
"Girl human", the creature offhandedly replied, "which is what you are of course." Bede fell deep into thought.<br />
<br />
Was this it? Was this is abdgab they had been waiting for? Bede found it hard to believe; they had been waiting for so long, and look what happened to that other one. He needed to get the <b>ababd</b> to Madame Butterfly. "<b>Dabe Fab</b>," he ordered.<br />
<br />
Emily, quizzically, gave up on trying to ask what he was saying and decided she should follow him as he started away. At any rate, she was eager to get away form the spookiness of the doorway, or what used to be the doorway.<br />
<br />
Bede hurried along a passage that seemed to come out of nowhere to their left. Emily followed, trotting to keep up with the short Bede.<br />
<br />
"What are you, if you don't nind my asking?" Emily queried, hoping to learn something before they got to wherever they were going.<br />
<br />
"That, <b>ababd</b>, I cannot say." Bede replied. " 'If a potential <b>abdgab</b> appears, no information may be revealed until he/she has met Madame Butterfly,' " he quoted.<br />
<br />
Emily abruptly stopped. "Do not keep me in the dark any longer," she ordered.<br />
<br />
Bede became confused. He did not understand the nuances of English phrases, and even after 20 years of study, he still found trouble with it.<br />
<br />
"I'm sorry, <b>ababd</b>, but there are no lights on hand, and even it there were, no light is allowed in this chamber."<br />
<br />
Emily was adamant. "No, not light, I want information. Who are you? What are you? What is this place? Where are we going?"<br />
<br />
Bede sighed. He could tell this was a hard one. "Forgive me; I am Bede. And as I told you already, this is <b>FedFad</b> and we are going to see Madame Butterfly."<br />
<br />
Emily rolled her eyes. She could tell this was a hard one.<br />
BookwormRonihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00956004227151229217noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1202018041002110761.post-27330009005410843602013-06-07T13:14:00.000-07:002013-06-07T13:14:35.753-07:00Here goes... Chapter 1<br />
She was at the piano. It was 3 o'clock. Pounding the keys in frustration, Emily had to remind herself why she was there in the first place.<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>It was two weeks until Sarah's birthday. Sarah was Emily's 8 year old little sister, about to turn 9. Sarah was a simple, sweet, mousy-brown haired girl, and loved the piano and its music. Emily was composing a piece called "Madame Butterfly", named after Sarah's favorite opera. But composing was not coming as easily to Emily as it used to.<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Emily played through her already finished bars, something she found herself doing more and more often lately, as she was making hardly any progress. She had had smooth sailing when she started; the notes flowing from her fingers, but then, one day she finished a phrase and it ended. Not the piece, the music. The music wouldn't come to her, but it was obvious it wasn't the end of the piece. Emily was dreadfully stuck.<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>She pounded the keys again, holding the notes. She started. Something had happened, some sort of click.<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Emily quickly glanced at her fingers to confirm what she already knew, something she had learned to do writing music: she had played F E and D in her left hand, F A and D in her right. She shook her head to clear it. Just a trick of her overworked brain, she told herself.<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Emily felt something tugging at her memory: her mother, speaking to her. But what was she saying? Then the memory faded away. She had been feeling oddly around the piano ever since... she couldn't remember when. That was the problem, she kept forgetting things.<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Emily quickly shifted her attention back to the clicking noise, still uneasy about the memory. She tried banging the piano again; nothing. She tried to recall what she had played, but in vain. The notes had faded with the memory, which by now she couldn't even remember remembering.<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Another click reached Emily's ears, this time more a creak than anything else. She saw an odd rectangle of wood above the keys closing into the piano. Emily started again, then snapped to her senses and stuck her finger into the timy hole and cried out in pain. Her finger was wedged in a door. After carefully extracting the aforementioned digit, she wondered how she had gotten there all of a sudden. Then her brain caught up.<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>She was standing in front of the odd rectangle of wood, now fully open again. How was she standing? Then her brain caught up again. The door had grown larger. Or, she had shrunk. Emily realized the latter was far more likely as she cautiously turned around, and saw her house looming high around her. The piano bench seemed 12 feet away, not a mere 12 inches.<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Emily started to tremble. How had this happened? Emily saw no other course of action but to walk through the already re-closing door, though every nerve in her now tiny body was telling her not to.<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Emily was confused, and had no idea what to do. She didn't want to leave the safety of her home, but then again her house seemed sinister and deadly to someone her size, and the piano was in her house, wasn't it? But what would she find in the piano? Would she become bigger while in the piano and become trapped? Emily was torn, and the invisible string that seemed to be pulling hew towards the door wasn't helping.<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Finally, a fraction of a second before the door closed for the last time, Emily made her decision.<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>She jumped through the door.BookwormRonihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00956004227151229217noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1202018041002110761.post-12962255915512799342013-06-03T11:01:00.002-07:002013-06-03T11:01:51.266-07:00My world(Courtesy of Irish Girl)<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; color: #222222; font-family: Calibri, 'Segoe UI', Meiryo, 'Microsoft YaHei UI', 'Microsoft JhengHei UI', 'Malgun Gothic', 'Khmer UI', 'Nirmala UI', Tunga, 'Lao UI', Ebrima, sans-serif; font-size: 16px;">My world is oh so pretty that it would be such a pity if the birds couldn’t fly in the sky so blue if the apples couldn’t grow on the trees fresh and new if the worms couldn’t wriggle it would not be a giggle if the fish couldn’t swim in the foamy waves and if bears could not live in their cozy caves my I am glad there are none of these dismays.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; color: #222222; font-family: Calibri, 'Segoe UI', Meiryo, 'Microsoft YaHei UI', 'Microsoft JhengHei UI', 'Malgun Gothic', 'Khmer UI', 'Nirmala UI', Tunga, 'Lao UI', Ebrima, sans-serif; font-size: 16px;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #222222; font-family: Calibri, 'Segoe UI', Meiryo, 'Microsoft YaHei UI', 'Microsoft JhengHei UI', 'Malgun Gothic', 'Khmer UI', 'Nirmala UI', Tunga, 'Lao UI', Ebrima, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse;">-Irish Girl was at my house and wrote this cool poem. I've been wanting to post it for months. So here it is!</span></span>BookwormRonihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00956004227151229217noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1202018041002110761.post-3320372977915475732013-06-03T10:52:00.003-07:002013-06-07T12:30:43.480-07:00My summer project!!!One night, Silly Sally asked me to tell her a bedtime story. I didn't really feel like finishing it because I was really tired, so I said I would finish it the next night. Well, after about 2 weeks of saying that, I finally finished the story. I thought it was cool, and thought "Maybe I should write it down." Of course, I never really did anything about it for about a year. But lately I've been thinking about it a lot more, and I've decided: this summer I shall write a book. Because really, the "bedtime story" is more like a novel.<br />
.<br />
I started on Wednesday. I'm currently in the middle of chapter 2. I have no idea how long it will be. Writing it will add a lot more "filler" that you just say they did in a story or something like that. I am also developing a language for them to speak in my world. It is called Gab, and uses only the letters A-G. Crazy, I know.<br />
.<br />
As I type and finish editing chapters I will post them here, and I will try to make them regular. I am also writing some history and stuff like that about the setting of the story for my own reference, and to keep you busy when I'm in a tough spot with the story. Well, not really not really the story, as I have an advantage that I already know where the story goes and that sort of thing, but writing it with the words and conversations and everything that have faded from my mind in the past year will get me stuck sometimes. Also, recalling episodes will prove hard, as Silly Sally and I are already have debates about how things went, and it's my story!<br />
.<br />
So anyway, I'm super excited and will be posting the first chapter shortly.BookwormRonihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00956004227151229217noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1202018041002110761.post-21382238440605909372013-04-17T16:40:00.002-07:002013-04-17T16:40:25.307-07:00Pie, again<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
Once I ate a pie</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
filled with blackberries and why,</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
why was it filled with berries</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
of that blue-black kind,</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
is what i wondered; </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Most likely beacuse, Edgar</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
the cook made it that way,</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
that way with berries and sugar,</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
that fine day in mid-December.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
-Wrote this Monday with the other. Again, don't ask. I just felt the need for posting. I feel a little crazy right now.</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1202018041002110761.post-22965081240414057432013-04-16T08:57:00.003-07:002013-04-16T08:57:54.363-07:00Pie<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
Once I ate a pie</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
A great big pie it was,</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
a pie with apples and cinnamon,</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
and a buttery crust because,</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
the baker cook made it that way,</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
that way with flour and eggs,</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
after eating a breakfast of toast,</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
of toast and coffee with dregs.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
- Don't ask.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1202018041002110761.post-34738110567388242732013-03-15T13:31:00.002-07:002013-06-03T17:46:48.641-07:00Eucharist Poetry: New stanzas<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Then the priest</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Will say "Body of Christ"</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Lifting You up high,</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Towards my tongue,</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
I shall receive,</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
You, Oh Lord ,</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
In this Perfect Sacrament</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Sacrament of the Altar.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
I am munching,</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
gnawing on, You now,</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Blood and Body,</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Soul and Divinity,</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
The Perfect Host that's You.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br />
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
You institute this great great Sacrament,</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
On the day of Passover,</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Your flesh, the new lamb</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
of the new covenant</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
replaces that of mortal goats,</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Your blood, that of wine,</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
In the sacred rituals,</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
changed into something new,</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
A newer, sacred-er ritual,</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Instituted by Christ,</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Done in memory of You.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
-. About the munching, gnawing part: I am not bloody. Seriously. It was not intended as such; the original Hebrew (or is it Greek?) word Jesus used in John 6 when He tells the people about the Eucharist literally means to gnaw, or to munch. </div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1202018041002110761.post-53562267913672298432013-03-14T14:21:00.000-07:002013-03-14T14:21:01.525-07:00A Quick Note: My Writing Style<br />
<div style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; border-collapse: collapse; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; text-align: left;">
I realized that my writing style has emerged. Mommy said 2 years ago, that in starting this blog, if I wrote every day or every other day just a little, while experimenting, my writing style would emerge. That made no sense at the time. But I am noticing a pattern. At first, when I wrote poetry, each time it was different. But as I have picked it up this year again, unfailingly, if you go back to each poem, it is free verse, no set meter, rhyming scheme; it is really just as it comes. Oh, and short lines. Those are predominant. </div>
<div style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; border-collapse: collapse; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; border-collapse: collapse; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; text-align: left;">
So my writing style is free verse poetry with short-ish lines. It is weird thinking back to <a href="http://nookofthebookworm.blogspot.com/2013/02/the-house.html" target="_blank">"The House"</a> and seeing how very different that is. I would never have thought that I would be a poet. Whenever I was asked what I wanted to be when I grew up, it was an author/writer. Of what? people would ask. Anything, the answer would come. </div>
<div style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; border-collapse: collapse; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; border-collapse: collapse; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; text-align: left;">
But now it is seeming to be more poetry than anything else. It just comes naturally to me. I have a way with words, Mommy says. I guess that is poetically.</div>
<div style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; border-collapse: collapse; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; border-collapse: collapse; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; text-align: left;">
Enjoy!</div>
<div style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; border-collapse: collapse; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; border-collapse: collapse; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; text-align: left;">
Also, it occurred to me to write a poem about the pope, maybe the papacy, the Vatican, some history... I think that will be like the <a href="http://nookofthebookworm.blogspot.com/2013/03/eucharist-poetry.html" target="_blank">Eucharist Poetry</a>: a pamphlet-like piece of work, different styles, etc. </div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1202018041002110761.post-71697821182113773722013-03-14T14:16:00.002-07:002013-03-14T14:23:36.210-07:00Eucharist Poetry<div style="text-align: center;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; border-collapse: collapse; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"></span></div>
<div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
O Lord, enter my heart,</div>
</div>
<div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Enter my heart so gently,</div>
</div>
<div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Enter with the aid of Sacraments,</div>
</div>
<div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
the Sacrament of Eucharist.</div>
</div>
<div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
</div>
<div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
The Sacrament of Eucharist,</div>
</div>
<div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Communion with Christ,</div>
</div>
<div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Never ending, never stopping,</div>
</div>
<div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Perfect join to You.</div>
</div>
<div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
</div>
<div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
O Lord how I love,</div>
</div>
<div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
When the priest will lift You up,</div>
</div>
<div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
In silence I adore,</div>
</div>
<div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
the Perfect Host of You.</div>
</div>
<div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
</div>
<div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
</div>
<div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
</div>
<div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
You love me Lord,</div>
</div>
<div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
That I know,</div>
</div>
<div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
When I kneel in adoration,</div>
</div>
<div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
adoring You in monstrance,</div>
</div>
<div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
gold and silver, lifting You</div>
</div>
<div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
up to Heaven,</div>
</div>
<div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Sweet smelling incense,</div>
</div>
<div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
filling up my nostrils,</div>
</div>
<div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
oh how I love You.</div>
</div>
<div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
</div>
<div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
</div>
<div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
</div>
<div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
</div>
<div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Prayers and prayers,</div>
</div>
<div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
on my tongue,</div>
</div>
<div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
begging to be released,</div>
</div>
<div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
yet my mind unable to form words,</div>
</div>
<div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
sits in awe, trying</div>
</div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; border-collapse: collapse; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"></span><br />
<div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; border-collapse: collapse; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">trying to comprehend </span></div>
</div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; border-collapse: collapse; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"></span><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; border-collapse: collapse; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">this Love,</span></div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; border-collapse: collapse; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">
</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; border-collapse: collapse; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"></span>
<div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; border-collapse: collapse; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">this great great Love,</span></div>
</div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; border-collapse: collapse; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">
<div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
that would come down</div>
</div>
<div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
for me, for me</div>
</div>
<div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
in this Precious Form,</div>
</div>
<div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
my heart knowing,</div>
</div>
<div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
my mind resisting,</div>
</div>
<div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
the knowledge my soul has.</div>
</div>
<div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
</div>
<div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
</div>
<div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
</div>
<div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
</div>
<div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
</div>
<div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Why, oh why,</div>
</div>
<div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Would you come down,</div>
</div>
<div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
descend unto this bread,</div>
</div>
<div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
this humble Form of exsistence,</div>
</div>
<div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Oh Creator of all,</div>
</div>
<div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
when the priest,</div>
</div>
<div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
as You</div>
</div>
<div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
repeats Your words,</div>
</div>
<div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
those holy, holy words</div>
</div>
<div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
"This is My Body and My Blood</div>
</div>
<div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
of the holy Covenant"</div>
</div>
<div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
to be comsumed by me,</div>
</div>
<div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
tainted, torn by sin;</div>
</div>
<div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
the answer is for Love.</div>
</div>
<div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
</div>
<div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
For love would you come thus,</div>
</div>
<div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
To humble bread and wine,</div>
</div>
<div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
to be with us, to live in us,</div>
</div>
<div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
always, oh Lord Divine.</div>
</div>
<div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
I thank You Lord, for this gift,</div>
</div>
<div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
This great gift of Your Soul,</div>
</div>
<div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
To join with mine,</div>
</div>
<div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
to be with mine,</div>
</div>
<div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
forever, ever, Lord.</div>
</div>
<div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
- The odd capitalization was to put more emphasis on God, while detracting form other words. The long spaces between stanzas show a new "poem".</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
It was all written together, in about half an hour, but I could sort of sense slight differences between the way they were written and the subtle differences in style. I realized you have to have the right rhythm when you are reading it, because reading it over made me confused until I corrected my reading. Just experiment a little I guess on that matter.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
This is a pamphlet of poetry for IMPACT for the Sacrament of Eucharist. Mommy told me to do a project by myself, without Architect A. The poems don't have individual names because, even though it is separate, it is sort of meant to be read together. Also, I've realized I'm a bit lazy when it comes to making names for poetry.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
I have never before been able to really express myself in religious poetry before. But this came so naturally and simply to me. I am finding that even in prose, am I writing poetically. Such as then. And I think poetically, not prose-y, so it sort of feels like poetry is taking over my life, but I don't care.</div>
</span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1202018041002110761.post-16649260903456380442013-03-14T14:02:00.000-07:002013-03-14T14:02:34.761-07:00Habemus Papam!We have a pope! God bless Pope Francis from Argentina, formerly Cardinal Jorge Bergoglio of Buenos Aires, first non-European, Argentinian, and Jesuit pope, and the first pope who took the name Francis!<br />
<br />
We love you Papa!Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1202018041002110761.post-34429484888896216472013-03-14T13:58:00.001-07:002013-03-14T13:58:17.457-07:00Sealed in Christ<div style="text-align: center;">
A bishop's hands,</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
coming, stretching,</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
toward my face,</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
dripping with oil,</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
chrism,</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
blessed to confirm,</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
peace and joy,</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
flooding my soul,</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
I am sealed in Christ,</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
the Spirit.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
- I wrote this for an IMPACT project I am doing about Confirmation. Architect A is drawing a picture of a bishop confirming, and I am writing the text for the poster. And, seeing who I am, Architect A set me to also write a poem, which I probably would have done anyway.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
I wrote this at co-op sitting outside on a rock, with nothing else to do. Everyone was in class and I had nowhere to go. I thought, "Oh, I'll write that poem". It came together in about the space of 5 minutes. Afterwards I felt very close to God, and rather joyful while I waited for Silly Sally to get out of class.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
It is probably the shortest poem I have ever written. But it was done.</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1202018041002110761.post-14863113018186106222013-02-04T12:47:00.004-08:002013-02-04T12:47:58.882-08:00The House<br />
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-align: center; text-autospace: none;">
<span lang="EN" style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri;">When once I took a sorry
stroll,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-align: center; text-autospace: none;">
<span lang="EN" style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri;">Saddned by a tale untold,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-align: center; text-autospace: none;">
<span lang="EN" style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri;">that dreary night in
mid-November,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-align: center; text-autospace: none;">
<span lang="EN" style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri;">(Why I was there I can't
remember),<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-align: center; text-autospace: none;">
<span lang="EN" style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri;">While I stood there
watching, waiting,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-align: center; text-autospace: none;">
<span lang="EN" style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri;">Waiting, watching, while debating,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-align: center; text-autospace: none;">
<span lang="EN" style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri;">Debating whether I should or
not,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-align: center; text-autospace: none;">
<span lang="EN" style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri;">go home for a bun all nice
and hot.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-align: center; text-autospace: none;">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-align: center; text-autospace: none;">
<span lang="EN" style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri;">I decided no and proceeded
on,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-align: center; text-autospace: none;">
<span lang="EN" style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri;">proceeding to a place now
gone;<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-align: center; text-autospace: none;">
<span lang="EN" style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri;">to find the house still
there intact,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-align: center; text-autospace: none;">
<span lang="EN" style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri;">was quite a shock for me,
alack!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-align: center; text-autospace: none;">
<span lang="EN" style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri;">I had hoped and pleaded with
all my soul,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-align: center; text-autospace: none;">
<span lang="EN" style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri;">Pleading it be still not
there my goal,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-align: center; text-autospace: none;">
<span lang="EN" style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri;">To see it there was
troubling to my mind,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-align: center; text-autospace: none;">
<span lang="EN" style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri;">a mind that needed saneness,
and things kind.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-align: center; text-autospace: none;">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-align: center; text-autospace: none;">
<span lang="EN" style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri;">'Shall I proceed?' I asked
myself,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-align: center; text-autospace: none;">
<span lang="EN" style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri;">'Should I proceed into this
place of stealth,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-align: center; text-autospace: none;">
<span lang="EN" style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri;">Or turn back and attempt to
forget?'<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-align: center; text-autospace: none;">
<span lang="EN" style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri;">But before my mind was set,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-align: center; text-autospace: none;">
<span lang="EN" style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri;">I heard a hoot from an owl.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-align: center; text-autospace: none;">
<span lang="EN" style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri;">Looking up I saw the
feathered fowl and scowled,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-align: center; text-autospace: none;">
<span lang="EN" style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri;">scowled at that annoying
bird.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-align: center; text-autospace: none;">
<span lang="EN" style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri;">And there am I still,
breathing not a word.</span><span lang="EN" style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-align: center; text-autospace: none;">
<span lang="EN" style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri;">.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: left;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Calibri;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 19px; line-height: 21px;">- I wrote this poem exactly 2 years ago. Well, I meant to post it Saturday, but I wasn't home all day. I like it so much that I felt that I should post it on my blog, and I was going to do so about a month ago, but realized I could pretend to have a reason by saying it was the 2 year anniversay/birthday whatever of when I wrote it. I've blown that obviously, but whatever.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: left;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Calibri;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 19px; line-height: 21px;">.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: left;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Calibri;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 19px; line-height: 21px;">Mommy decided that since it was Edgar Allen Poe's 203 birthday the day before class, her assignment for my creative writing class at SMA would be to write a 3 stanza poem with some of the same elements (e.g., onomatopoeias, alliteration, assonance, repetition, etc.) as "The Raven", by Mr. Poe. It was also supposed to have a creepy, somewhat scary feeling to it, like "The Raven".</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: left;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 19px; line-height: 21px;">This is what I came up with.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 19px; line-height: 21px;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 19px; line-height: 21px;">I cannot tell you why, but I am very proud of this poem. I just am. I have been proud of it for 2 years. Sometimes with my writing I think, "Oh, I should have done _______". But not with this.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: left;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Calibri;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 19px; line-height: 21px;"><br /></span></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Calibri;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 19px; line-height: 21px;">If you haven't read "The Raven" yet, it is one of the best poems and probably my favorite (though I haven't thought about it much, but if you gave me 2 seconds to come up with my favorite, I'd say this). So here is a link to it: <a href="http://www.eapoe.org/works/poems/ravena.htm" target="_blank">"The Raven" by Edgar Allen Poe</a>.</span></span></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1202018041002110761.post-30829913636415579172013-01-31T11:48:00.000-08:002013-01-31T16:38:51.210-08:00Friendship<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
What is friendship?</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Something confusing,</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
complicated </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
at first sight,</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
but upon</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
further inspection</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
you find</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Friendship is simple, yet much more.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
What is friendship?</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Playing together,</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
crying </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
over bruises together,</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
But as you grow older</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
it becomes</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
more than that,</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
sweet, kind, </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
loving,</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Cherishing the other.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
What is friendship?</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
That lovely thing that enables two,</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Two to be</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
in harmony</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
like siblings knowing</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
the other</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Helping herself </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
to the other's</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
snacks,</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
possessions, rooms,</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
things, accomplishments,</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
as if it were hers</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
What is friendship?</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
That thing when two<br />
will laugh</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
and chat<br />
for hours</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
about nothing</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
never caring,</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
For they are friends.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
What is friendship?</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
It is love.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
-Perfect example of what I said the other day about all my poems being different.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
My friend told me to write a poem about friendship because she was appalled by my lack of posting. So here it is. Well, you've already read, I'm presuming.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
This is probably my quickest poem ever. I started it less than an hour ago, at 1:55 (posting time wrong). Then at about 2:10 I was startled by having most of it finished. Since then I've just added a few words and the 4th stanza. And separated a few lines. It's amazing the world of difference it makes when you just separate those lines and change/delete some words. As soon as I did the last thing to make it to how you see it now, I though,"Yes! It's done!" I didn't know why, but it was. You can just tell. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
This is good.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
I just made myself a goal. 2 poems/week, how that will work out, I'm not sure. And then the random writing assignments.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Thank you, Architect A!</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1202018041002110761.post-29602307053986982522013-01-29T11:21:00.000-08:002013-01-31T11:11:31.174-08:00Nativity Poem<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
Nativity, Nativity, such a sweet word,</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Bringing to mind the great joy of Christmas that comes to all the world.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
In the weeks leading up to that joyfilled morn,</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
My family watches candles slowly burn</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
down, and violet, anticipating,</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
anticipating that day, </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
that day when Christ comes down to us,</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
in a form as ours.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
I remind myself as I wake,</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
That God sent His only Son to me</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Because of His great unending love for me</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
In the freezing cold,</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Where the wise men gave him gold,</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
(So I have been told,)</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
And I He shall never forsake.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
On that Christmas morn I find myself desiring one gift solely,</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
That gift of God's Son to me,</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
In all my sin and loneliness,</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Only to have </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
him die on a tree</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
for me, for me!</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
-Mommy got an email about a Joy to the World! Prayer Contest*- well, contest. The challenge was to create a piece of artwork, essay (not really an essay, but a short paragraph; it was only allowed to be 50-100 words), or poem portraying family traditions, how you felt about Christmas, how you remind yourself of Christmas everyday, etc. I, obviously, wrote a poem. The entries have to be submitted by Friday via mail, so I wrote this yesterday, with some editing/additions earlier today.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
At first I was so lost as to what to do. I started wondering,"How on earth did I write "The House" [coming soon] 2 years ago?" Well, I'll tell you how. Sitting in front of the computer for half an hour trying to come up with something. And then the words just start coming to you. Slowly, but they come. Sometimes they're just ideas that get translated to words in several seconds.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Now, I know what you're thinking, I know there isn't really a set meter, line length, or even really regular rhyming. But sometimes, and you can really only understand this if you are a poet (I'm not claiming to be up there with Edgar Allen Poe or something, just someone who writes poetry occasionally), something feels right about whatever it is, like I felt like I should add another 'old' rhyming in the 3rd stanza. It just felt right. And I had an incredible urge to do something about it until I wrote that 6th line. And it's hard to explain, and it might not make sense if you don't write poetry. I realized that while Silly Sally was looking at it and said something about "Change this to this. It'd sound better", and I was offended and she didn't seem to understand that that was the way it was supposed to be. I just realized it's like what Michelangelo said once,"In every block of marble I see a statue as plain as though it stood before me...I only have to hew away the rough walls that imprison it." The poem is already there, and even though I don't "see it", necessarily, when I start, changing something that's supposed to be there is like lopping off the nose of a statue, if that makes any sense.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
I guess my point is, all poetry is different. I can see that looking at all the crazily different poems I've written.</div>
<h1 style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></span></h1>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
*name of contest</div>
<h4>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;">P.S. And no, it doesn't have a name. Yet.</span></h4>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1202018041002110761.post-45452038053961874922012-11-26T12:53:00.002-08:002013-01-29T11:21:22.659-08:00There Was a Child Went ForthThere was a child went forth every day,<br />
And the first object he look'd upon, that object he<br />
became,<br />
And that object became part of him for that day or a<br />
certain part of the day,<br />
Or for many years or stretching cycles of years.<br />
.<br />
His blue covered schoolbooks<br />
became a part<br />
of him<br />
As greatly as his faded yellow<br />
number two pencil<br />
Became a part of him,<br />
And his quirky, strange, yet interesting friends<br />
became a part of him,<br />
and his heart.<br />
.<br />
And at home,<br />
his place at table,<br />
white painted and wooden-backed,<br />
with its cushion for sitting,<br />
Became a part of him,<br />
And his brown wood bedstead,<br />
simple and quaint,<br />
with its red and black-checked partchwork quilt<br />
cozy and warm,<br />
Waiting for him to come<br />
and slumber peacefully,<br />
Became a part of him.<br />
.<br />
-Another assignment. This time it is inspired by Walt Whitman's poem, "There Was a Child Went Forth", hence the name. The assignment was to write two stanzas of a poem with things the boy could've seen and become. The beginning stanza is not mine, it is Walt Whitman, who by the way, is dead. He lived from 1819-1892. The point was to use the opening stanza to create your own free verse poem on the same topic.<br />
.<br />
I have an assignment that is sadly lost. I was trying to post it a few months ago, but I cannot locate it. Perhaps I'll just try re-writing it. Oh well.<br />
.<br />
.<br />
.<br />
.<br />
.<br />
.<br />
.<a href="http://www.bartleby.com/142/103.html" target="_blank">"There Was a Child Went Forth" link</a>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1202018041002110761.post-83822514537139007442012-04-16T09:00:00.000-07:002012-04-16T09:00:50.713-07:00Divine Mercy SundayYesterday was the Feast of Divine Mercy.<div>.</div><div>Pop Quiz: Who started the widespread devotion of Divine Mercy?</div><div>.</div><div>St. Maria Faustina Kowalska. She was a Polish mystic nun during WW II. Poppop bought me her diary translated into English last year when we were on vacation. It is very long. 500 pages, I think. Pope John Paul II, sorry, <i>Blessed</i> JP II, beautified and canonized her on 2 Divine Mercy Sundays (and it wasn't any coincidence that that was the date <i>he </i>was beautified last year). The devotion was most popular in Poland first, before JP II continued Faustina's work.</div><div>.</div><div>Anyway, Jesus appeared to Faustina many times over her time in convent, and one time commanded her to have an image painted of the vision she saw before her, with the inscription 'Jezu ufam Tobie', Polish for 'Jesus, I trust in You'.</div><div><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipz7j6I8ma5HEv4Ba43D9h2P0hkOw__kR5hHtqC3bQAtPIG_FiQMKhz_uuaIjDY_ZseqiAcJGo4ND0OtGEntWKJF-WmP7GKZO6LBGYQ0VbFLsOqK4-cgqAnenaMkJiK4abHV67ZJGZtqzq/s1600/divine+mercy.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipz7j6I8ma5HEv4Ba43D9h2P0hkOw__kR5hHtqC3bQAtPIG_FiQMKhz_uuaIjDY_ZseqiAcJGo4ND0OtGEntWKJF-WmP7GKZO6LBGYQ0VbFLsOqK4-cgqAnenaMkJiK4abHV67ZJGZtqzq/s1600/divine+mercy.jpeg" /></a></div><div>.</div><div>Yesterday we went on the JP II hiking club's annual Easter walk at the park. It was 4.4 miles, I think. And it was very long. We were exhausted. But the Easter Walk is on Divine Mercy Sunday because..... you got it! Since John Paul II popularized Divine Mercy, it makes sense that a hiking club names after him would have their Easter hike on the day he made universal (or catholic).</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1202018041002110761.post-1985390934990351612012-04-16T08:39:00.001-07:002012-04-20T17:32:03.782-07:00My Holy Week went like this...I have been very busy. <i>Very </i>busy.<br />
.<br />
For the record, remind me not to serve at all of the Triduum Masses without proper sleep. It was <i>tiring. </i>Yup, I served at Holy Thursday, Good Friday, and the Easter Vigil. Holy Thursday and Good Friday are both about 2 hours each, and the Vigil was 3 hours, not counting the hour of practice in the morning on all 3 days. There were 3 servers who served all 3 Masses: me and 2 sisters. The only switch on the schedule was that my friend served on Holy Thursday and Good Friday, but not the Easter Vigil. Our pastor told us that someone from Long Island, N.Y., approached him after the Good Friday service and told him,"Father, I was here last night and today, and it was very prayerful, but what made it for me were the servers. They were just so attentive to detail and reverent and prayerful." That was the nicest compliment I think I've ever gotten for my serving (and I've gotten quite a few.)Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1202018041002110761.post-16411084179307530852012-04-16T08:26:00.000-07:002012-04-16T08:26:49.949-07:00Link updatedSorry, here is a proper link to Storybird. Click <a href="http://storybird.com/">here</a> for the website.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1202018041002110761.post-62717556258137896012012-02-06T12:21:00.000-08:002012-02-06T12:21:52.162-08:00My new books!I have a new account on storybird.com, which enables you to use inspired artwork to create story books! My username is bookwormRoni, which is how you can find my books, and I'll also keep you posted on when I create a new storybird: it's also a good way to write more for this blog, which I still haven't gotten back into the groove yet.<br />
.<br />
Check out Storybird! <span style="color: #009933;"><strong>storybird</strong>.com</span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0