Showing posts with label writing. Show all posts
Showing posts with label writing. Show all posts

Wednesday, November 4, 2009

PePoWriMo

So in addition to appointing myself Official NaNoWriMo Cheerleader on the Forum (along with Ella)
and NaNoWriMo Psychiatrist (for those writers who need to rant, sob, complain, vent and kill someone)
I have invented a November activity for moi, called "PePoWriMo". PePoWriMo stands for Personal Poetry Writing Month. It's 'personal' and not 'national', because well... I'm the one doing it. ;)

The goal I've set for myself is to write on poem every day for the month of November, all about different topics, and trying to use a wide variety of poetry styles! I started yesterday, so I've got one poem written. I haven't written today's poem yet.

This event was inspired by Lanta asking me if I wrote a lot of poetry, me answering no, her commenting that that was sad, and me agreeing with her. So by the end of November I shall have at least 28 poems! I'll try and post all or most of them up here for any who are interested to read.

Here is my poem from yesterday.

All Soul's Day

The dead were dead and laying still, in
Cold caskets buried beneath the grim ground.
No record was there of virtue or sin,
They lay forgotten, no mourners around.

'Tis only their bodies that lay there so still
The soul of Life is departed and gone.
Waiting are they with hope, waiting until
Kind prayers should free them from Purg'tories bond.

Yet no prayer is said for all those who wait,
No please is uttered, they are forgotten.
Denied the joys of Heaven that is their fate,
Suffering on their own, no helping friend.

Remember them in prayer, say one today.
Loved ones may forget, forgotten are they.


Saturday, April 18, 2009

5 Quick Takes Saturday - Vol 7

~ 1 ~
Yes! I am finally back on my blog after Lent and a week. My apologize for ignoring y'all, but i haven't been able to think of anything to post about. Well, on here, that is. My blogging energy this past week has been focused on posting more on the Fairy Tale Fellowship blog. But mayhaps this will get me started on here again!

~ 2 ~
So how did your Lent go? I wish i could say that my penance of giving up the Internet was hard... but strangely, it wasn't. I actually kind of enjoyed it! Is that a bad thing? Though i'm inclined to think it isn't, because it has caused me to decided to make a whole heated attempt to cut down on my internet time, since i will readily confess that i spent way to much time on there. It kind of got to the point where i'd sit down at the computer because i couldn't think of anything to do, and then just wander around because i couldn't think of anything to do online either! The gorgeous weather, my new Pride and Prejudice piano music and a story i'm workiong on should help me with that. =)

~ 3 ~
Another new resolution i've made recently is one inspired by my Starburst. (Lanta) I've started talking on the phone with her occaisonally and she pointed out to me that i really don't talk all that much. (I knew that already though... =P ) Now all the people who know me online may be a bit shocked and surprised, but i really don't talk all that much offline. A friend once commented that she learns more about me and what i'm thinking from my blog than she does from talking to me. (Now that's a scary thought.)
But really, it's true. For whatever reason, i talk so much more and more fluently when i type than when i actually am conversing with people. When i type or write, my thoughts just flow so much easier and more coherently, but the minute i try to have an intelligent conversation with someone, it's like my brain goes on crawl mode.
I don't mind that all that much since most of my friends are all talkers and i like to listen to people anyhow (ya learn more that way. ;) ) so up until now i've never tried to improve my talking skills. However, in the past 1/4 of the year, i've begun talking to friends on the phone (for the first time in all my 17 years!) and i've decided that you can't just listen all the time when you talk on the phone because then you aren't talking on the phone, you are listening on the phone. And so Lanta baby, you've inspired me to start talking more to people so i can make better conversation than "Yes," Mhhmmhh" "Right" "yeah" and other variations of yes or now. =P You shall be proud of me!

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Sidebar
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Now, just to clarify, that's not to say I never talk. I do talk a lot around my family, and when (as Lanta put it) someone pushes a button in my brain. Those buttons tend to be either: Civil War, Lord of the Rings or The Fairy Tale Novles/FT forum. Then i can't shut up! I could continue in my explanations and probings but this is supposed to be quick takes so maybe i'll do a blog post sometime.

~ 4 ~
I got an MP3 player!!!! =) I got a bunch of money for my birthday, and having previously decided that if i did any clothes shopping, it would be at thrift stores, i bought myself a 2Gig RCA Pearl MP3 player for only about $30 at Wal-Mart. And it's blue!
Yup, that's what it looks like! I especially like the fact that it as a flip out USB port, so that i don't need a chord to attatch it to the computer. (Yes! One less thing to lose!) Having never had an MP3 player before, it's just amazing to me how such a small little thing can store 600 songs (AND it has a micro chip SD slot for extra music storage), and you can put audio books on it and you can get radio stations! I can't figure out how it possibly picks them up, but it must have a way. Oh, and it has this tiny little microphone on the back for recording voice memo's.

I got an ITunes gift card for my birthday, so i was able to buy a few songs! Naturually though, after you download them, they are the wrong type of music file and won't play on there. So I have to burn the songs to a CD and then copy them back on to the computer via Windows Media Player, thus converting the files from a M4A file to a WMA file. And then put the songs on the MP3 player. Oh well. The quality is great and it works well, so i'm happy!

~ 5 ~
Ok! I need help. Which music playlist should i put on my blog?

This one:

Get a playlist! Standalone player Get Ringtones



This one:

Get a playlist! Standalone player Get Ringtones



This one:

Get a playlist! Standalone player Get Ringtones



Or a combo of all three? Please leave a comment with your opinion, and if you think i should do a combination, than please leave a comment stating which songs you would like to see on there. (And in any case, feel free to suggest songs that i don't have that you like!)



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Now it's your turn! Below is a Mr. Linky List if you'd care to link to your own 5 Quick Takes Saturday post. Just two things though
(1) Make sure the URL you submit is to your post, not the URL of your blog. (2) Include a link back here.
Can't wait to see what you post!

Wednesday, July 30, 2008

Have Ye Heard Tell O' The Time Jack Was Marooned...

"My dear friends, let us not forget our dear friends, the cuttlefish!"
Love that line. Today mates, I shall share with you all a fanfiction I wrote based on an idea that my dear aunt Q on the forum had. In her luv'ly story, bonny Jack found himself in the position of havin' ta take his niece, Eliza on his ship... against his will and inclinations. My story picks up right after Jack relents and takes Eliza on board. Enjoy mates!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“So Miss Eliza, what thinks ye of the Black Pearl?” Gibbs leaned against the ships railing next to her.

“I love it!” her eyes brightened. “Where did Uncle Jacky ever get such a gorgeous boat?”

Gibbs winced a bit, wondering what the Captain would have to say about being called ‘Uncle Jacky’. He cleared his throat, “Well, let’s just say Miss, that’s a rather long story.”

“To long for right now?”

He coughed again. “Aye, miss. A sight too long for right now.”

“Well, if you’ll tell me a shorter story about dear old Uncle Jack, I’ll sing you a song.”

Gibbs sighed, “A story, right now?”

“Right now, please.”

“Very well.” He sat down heavily on a large rum barrel, but his eyes had just the hint of mischief in them. “Have ye ever heard tell about how Jack was marooned for three days and three nights on the Island of Misfit Toys?”

Eliza’s eyes widened. “Where is that at?”

Gibbs searched the sky, “Um, it be way up north, where it snows a lot.”

“Oh,” She nodded. “What sort of place is it? It doesn’t sound too pleasant.”

“Aye, that it’s not.” He shook his head. “It’s a terrible sad sort of place. Ya see, that be where all the toys who are a bit odd, so to speak, get sent. No one wants them.”

Eliza looked indignant. “Why, I’d want them, even if they are odd. And there are plenty of children who have never had proper toys who like them too. Besides, living at sea, with pirates, sort of gets you used to oddities. Not that you are odd,” she added hastily. “I like you all so very much.”

“Would you like me to continue me story?”

“Oh yes, of course. I am sorry.”

“So ya see, there be where all the misfit toys go, like John-in-the-boxes, Rudolph the Blue Nosed Reindeer, dolls that only close one eye… well, ye get the picture. So anyhow, there be Jack, marooned on the island, where the winds be howlin’ and the snow be blowin’, and not a soul in site.”

“Where were the toys?”

“Well, they was hidin’. The captain doesn’t look very much like the kind of folk who’d be playin’ with toys now does he? So, naturally, they was frightened.”

“So, what did Uncle Jack do?”

“Well, he stood ankle deep in the water, for those three days and three nights, till all manner of arctic creatures came a-crawlin’ into his presence. Then on the third day, he roped himself a couple of sea lions, ran a cord through their mouths like the reins on a horse, and rode them all the way to Tortuga.”

“Really?” Eliza breathed. She thought, “Well, what did he use for rope?”

Gibbs thought. “Well, now let me see…”

“Human hair,” said a voice. “Off my back.”

Gibbs leapt to his feet, spluttering. “Captain, sir, I didn’t hear ye. Excuse me sir, I was just telling your niece hear about the time, that you, er, um, were, marooned, um, sir.”

“Yes I know. Which time?”

“The time you were marooned off the Island of Misfit Toys, Uncle Jacky. Why, have you been marooned more then once? And what about the toys? Who marooned you there?” Eliza rattled out.

Jack looked curiously at her. “The Island of what?” He looked at Gibbs. “Mr. Gibbs, what have you been telling my bonny lass?”

“Excuse me, Captain, I’d best be seein’ to my duties.”

“Slander and calumny! Come back, sir and that’s an order! I want to know what bloody stories you’ve been spreading this time….”

Eliza watched her uncle chase after the unfortunate first mate, then shrugged and turned back to the railing. “Yo, ho! Yo ho! A pirates life for me!”


THE END!

I do sincerely hope you liked it mates.
Dead foxes have no tails! (So you should be glad I'm alive, or where would you get such stories?)

~ Captain Fox Turner

Tuesday, July 29, 2008

Next stop, Tortuga!

Good mornin' luv. For today I am going to give you a piece of literary artwork that I have stumbled across in me travels. Though since I am the one who wrote it, it can't really be called artwork, because artwork is never called artwork by those who wrote it unless those who wrote, and quite obviously wrote it, wrote it in order for it to be artwork. (My pathetic attempt at talking like Jack.)
So without further ado...

A little somethin' I wrote for writing class.

“What port we puttin’ into next, Bill?”

“Not sure, Jim, but Ah’ve ‘eard that the Cap’n’s thinkin’ about landin’ some where’s on Jamaica. Prob’ly to drop off this pirate ‘ere. ‘Ello there mate. Come to drop off some food for you, though tis more ‘n the likes o’ you deserve.”

“My appreciation mate. Now I overheard that this fine little boat, sorry, ship, might be heading towards a pretty little place called Jamaica. Am I right?”

“We’re not sure. An’ if we did know, we wouldn’t be tellin’ it to you.”

“To a pirate, you mean. Well I’m sorry you feel that way mates, could’ve helped you out a bit.”

“What do mean?” the two asked together.

“Well, for example, I just happen to know,” offered the pirate, “that your bonny Cap’n whatshisface is afraid…”

“Our Cap’n Smith ain’t afraid of nothing, ain’t that right Bill?’”

“My apologies, I’m sure he’s not, gentlemen. But then how is it that he is hesitating at making port in Jamaica? Because he has heard that England re-gained control over the island? Because the reigning bonny monarch has threatened to punish anyone connected to a certain power called, oh what was it? Ah yes, the East India Trading Company?”

“The Indian Star ain’t connected to any East India Trading Company, right Jim?”

“That’s right. Never even ‘eard o’ the thing.”

“What!” exclaimed the pirate, “Never heard of the company that had nearly taken over the Caribbean before the bonny British Navy caught up with it? Where have you been the past ten years mates? Shanghai?”

“Well, I suppose I ‘ave ‘eard o’ it,” admitted Jim.

“I thought you might have. And I am correct in saying that your ship is connected in some way with the bloody EIC?”

“It is not,” Bill retorted.

“Fine, your captain is then, right? And most of her crew?”

“The crew ain’t,” replied Jim.

“But your captain is?”

“Now see ‘ere,” interrupted Bill, “why do you want to now this any ‘ow? An’ what’s your name?”

“You don’t know it? Too bad mate. Now be quiet if you please, I was in the middle of a conversation with this gentleman over here with the splendiferous tattoos,” returned the pirate. “Now, as you were saying, the captain is connected?”

“Well, I don’t know much as it is, I only joined a year ago, but I do thinks that the Cap’n might be sailin’ under some kind of orders.” Jim replied hesitantly.

“Thank you for verifying that. Now, I have thought of an alternative port, if you think that your captain would be interested in hearing about it.”

“Now see ‘ere,” said Bill angrily, “I don’t know what you’re up to, but our Cap’n ain’t interested in anything a pirate like you might suggest.”

“Do you want to save your bloody neck?”

“What?”

“Hmph. If your bally ship, the Indiana Tar or what ever it is, sails into one of those ports on Jamaica, your bonny captain and all his crew will be imprisoned or hanged for treason to the crown, savvy?”

“Oh”

“I thought you’d see my point. Now have either of you ever heard of Tortuga?”

“Tortuga? Where’s that?”

“Never ‘eard of it.”

“Oh good. Anyhow, you convince your Cap’n, Slipp wasn’t it? Smith? Well, get your Cap’n Smith to make port in Tortuga, the only port left that the British don’t occupy by the way, and then him, you and the rest of the bloody crew can get off free, savvy?”

The two crewmen glanced at each other. “Savvy,” they replied, and dashed off up the stairs.

The pirate chuckled as he leaned back. “Well mate,” he said to himself. “Next stop, Tortuga and freedom!”

The End!

~ Captain Fox Turner

Tuesday, April 15, 2008

The (non) Iprotmncae of Seplilng

I am sure you have all gotten this in an e-mail before, but I thought it was worth mentioning:

I cdnuolt blveiee taht I cluod aulaclty uesdnatnrd waht I was rdanieg The phaonmneal pweor of the hmuan mnid Aoccdrnig to a rscheearch at CmabrigdeUinervtisy, it deosn’t mttaer in waht oredr the ltteers in a wrod are, the olny iprmoatnt tihng is taht the frist and lsat ltteer be in the rghit pclae. The rset can be a taotl mses and you can sitll raed it wouthit a porbelm. Tihs is bcuseae the huamn mnid deos not raed erveylteter by istlef, but the wrod as a wlohe. Amzanig huh? yaeh and I awlyas thought slpeling was ipmorantt.
So if I msislepl a wrod, it wno't mttear, 'cusae you can raed it ayhonw. Bsides, Sleplcechk deons't wrok. =) Hvae a ncie day!

Monday, January 28, 2008

Cousins With an Outlaw: Part 1

"Cousins With an Outlaw" is a short story I wrote last year in Creative Writing class. I enjoyed writing, and so decided to share it with you all! Feel free to leave your thoughts on it; comments, suggestions, etc. Enjoy!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

William put his head in hands, momentarily overcome by despair. He sighed deeply and looked up out of the small shack that used to be their barn at the grassy meadows and the dusty road beyond. He hadn’t let Anne or the twins, James and Philip know, but they had just eaten the last of their meager food supply for breakfast. Times were hard under Prince John’s rule, many peasants refused to call him king, and the few coins they had had gone to pay the taxes two weeks ago.

Things have just gone from bad to worse since Prince John took over the throne, the boy thought as he moodily watched other peasants, Saxons like himself, hard at work. There wouldn’t be taxes like this if King Richard were here where he belongs. But he is not, and we have no way of paying the taxes. Our fields have been confiscated, so I cannot farm, and no one can give me work to do, or have any money to pay me if they did. William rose quickly and began busily polishing a harness as his younger sister Anne walked in. She watched him silently.

"You can stop doing that Will,” she said quietly. “You know as well as I do we have no fields to plow, nor animals to wear that harness. You are tiring yourself out for nothing.”

He stopped and looked at her, “I know, but if I do not use up this energy,” he smiled half-heartedly, “I might use it to knock off the tax collector’s head the next time he comes to pay us a visit, which I am sure he is just dying to do.”

Anne giggled, “Oh Will, I can just picture that fat Sir Lancerot’s head just rolling off down the road with a bewildered expression on his plump face.” The two laughed heartily together. “Well, I am off,” she said merrily. “I shall go ‘scavenging’ for our dinner, and the boys are coming along to scare off the pears they say, though I think they mean bears.”

He watched the three skip off down the lane together and disappear into the forest. What a help Anne was. Though only twelve, she never complained as she watched the two little ones, kept house and prepared the food. She was a lot like their mother, William reflected returning to his work, or at least a lot like what he could remember of her. Their mother had died four years ago when he had been fifteen. She had become very weak from the hard life they lived, no money and very little food, nothing but work all day. His mother had been come from a well to do household, before deciding to marry their father, nobleman fallen upon difficult times and now living as a peasant. In the end, it all had been too much for her.

“If Father had been here, instead of running off somewhere,” he muttered bitterly, “it might have been different, we might not be where we are now.” The clatter of hooves on the pathway outside interrupted his thoughts. “Who can that be?” he wondered, straightening and moving towards the door. Before he could reach the door, the form of his boyhood friend John Miller appeared inside.

“John!” he exclaimed joyfully, springing forward to shake his hand. “I have not seen you in ages. How have you been?”

“Oh, all right I suppose,” John replied, shaking William’s hand lamely.

“Is something wrong?” William queried anxiously.

John kept his eyes on the ground. “Will, I- I had to, I could not find any one else to work for, I…”

“What are you talking about?” asked William confusedly.

He sighed, “Will, I am Sir Lancerot’s squire.”

“Oh,” said Will quietly, “did he send you?”

John nodded miserably. “The king has ordered more taxes, I have been sent to collect them.” He looked up with sadness in his eyes. “I am ordered to arrest anyone who does not pay the taxes.”

Will’s heart sank. He turned away to stare out the window. Watching Anna, Phillip and James come out of the forest and run down the road to a patch of wildflowers he wondered what would happen to them. Trying to speak lightly, he turned back to his friend. “Well John,” he said with forced cheerfulness, “let us not keep the jail guards waiting. Doubtless they will be eager to have another tenant.”

“Will, I cannot arrest you,” protested John, “what will happen to your brothers and Anne?”

“I thought you just said you were under orders to arrest anyone who could not pay their taxes,” reminded Will.

“Yes, but you are my friend. You are old enough, you could take Anne and the boys and run away and join Robin Hood…”

“Do to think a group of outlaws would want a couple of children to look after? And besides, if we did and I were ever captured, I would be hung, and then what would happen to them?”

John thought for a moment. “The least I can do is see if I can get you to the Sheriff of Nottingham. I doubt he would listen or give you more time, but it is worth a try.”

Will nodded his head. “Thank you John. I would try anything to make sure Anne, James and Philip were properly cared for, even if I had to sell myself as a slave.”

“Well,” laughed John, “let us hope it never comes to that. Well, call the trio and we will go pay a visit to the honorable Sheriff of Nottingham.”

Within the hour, the little family, led by John who had agreed to announce them, walked into the great hall of the Sheriff of Nottingham’s palace. Stepping towards the chair where the Sheriff was seated, John bowed and announced, “William Locksley and his family, come to beg a favor of his lordship.”

The Sheriff leaned forwards and peered at the four. “William Locksley, eh? Well come forward lad, I cannot hear ye at the other end of the hall.”

“Sir,” said William, bowing low. “I have come to ask that we be given more time to pay the taxes. We do not have the money at the present, but I assure you that I will give you the money as soon as I have it.”

“Ye want more time, do ye? Do ye not know that it is imprisonment if ye does not pay the taxes on time?”

“I know that sir,” replied William, “but I am prepared to work, in your very house if you wish, until I can pay the taxes. Surely the prince-regent will not mind extending mercy to honest subjects.”

“The prince-regent is it?” said the Sheriff, his eyes glittering. “Not the king?”

William stood erect, knowing that he was taking a dreadful chance. “Aye sir, the prince-regent. The good King Richard is off in the crusades.”

“Ah, I see,” nodded the Sheriff. “Are ye related in any way to a certain man named Sir Robin of Locksley?” he asked suddenly.

“No sir,” said Will with a puzzled expression on his face. “Not that I know of.”

The Sheriff shot him a glance than shrugged his shoulders, “Ah, tis of no importance. Now about your request,” he leaned back in his chair, “My apologies, but I am disinclined to acquiesce to ye request.” He turned away, then on second thought turned back and added, “In other words no.” He nodded to his guards, “Take him away gentlemen.”

Allowing himself to be grabbed roughly by the arms, William glanced at Anne and winked reassuringly at her. They had nearly reached the large hall doors when he suddenly dropped to the floor, pulling his arms free. “Get them out of here!” he yelled to John as he grabbed one of the guard’s swords. “Go on,” he urged when John didn’t move. “I’ll be alright.”

Recovering from his shock, John ushered Anne and the boys out the door, then ran back to assist his friend. Side by side the two fought off the onslaught of soldiers that rushed into the room as the Sheriff yelled the men on from under a table.

To be continued.....