writers dreaming

Writers dreaming

Question)           Angelou says she doesn’t even like to talk about her bad dreams because talking about them “gives them too much power”. Do you think talking about bad dreams, or bad news, or other bad things gives those bad things more power? When have you known this to happen?

Answer)             I don’t think that you should talk about the bad things that happen in your life too often. It doesn’t do well to dwell on the past. I think that you should get it out of your system once and then leave it at that. You don’t want these bad things to weigh on you throughout your life. So yes, I think that speaking about these things constantly gives them a power over you that it doesn’t deserve. This happens a lot today with teens and bullying. When someone says something bad to you, you just keep on rolling it through your head and it drives you mad. I don’t think that you should let these people do that to you though. They aren’t worth it, and neither are the other bad things that happen in our life.  

Question)           After going through a major trauma at age seven, Angelou didn’t talk for almost five years. Could you live this way? Do you talk too much, or too little? What could you learn if you listen more and spoke less? How could you grow as a person by speaking more?

Answer)             Each and every person has their own mind, their own opinions. There are many things in this world that people are at a constant debate about. If even one of these people had the right idea and didn’t speak up then the system would be at an imbalance. I think that everyone should speak out. I don’t like the idea of a little girl with such a bright young mind, not voicing her wonderful opinions. I could never be one who stays silent. I always need to express myself and what I believe in. As do many people. Now I know that there are people out there who think that they have nothing to say. That their lives are so boring that their life story doesn’t matter, but really it does. Not only can you make a difference by speaking up, but you can make an even bigger one by listening. A lot of people have experienced things in their lifetime that others wouldn’t even dream of. Others have a rougher lifestyle and are humbled by the experience. Maya Angelou for example was raped as a child. This caused her to lose her will to speak, in fear that her words didn’t matter. But look at how many lives she has effected by her story. Her many experiences helped people shape their lives. As could anyone’s story. You never know what your words can mean to someone, until you speak them. I think that if all people, found it in their hearts to speak up, that we would all benefit from their story. 

The Escape, inspired by dream threads

The escape Inspired by dream threads

            He was trapped in a small, compact room with bright shards of glass protruding from every available surface. He looked around for a way out, but saw nothing but the opaque splinters on each wall. How did I get into this mess? He thought. Though he knew the answer to that question. Her. He saw her walking down the street, while on his way home from work. Then, he saw the gigantic men jump out from their concealed position, and take her.  Feeling heroic, he went after them. Once he started running though, he didn’t remember much else. That is until he woke up in here.

            What am I going to do? He asked himself. That was when he started to tear at the crystal. Chunk by chunk, he broke the black shards, trying to make a hole in the room. It had felt like hours had passed and he had torn away at least 50 pounds of glass by this point, all of it resting at his feet and knees. He saw a hole. Gathering the remainder of his strength, he pulled back his arm and slammed his fist through the hole as fast as he could. The entire wall shattered in a very loud shriek. He knew it would only be a matter of time before they would come back for him. So he ran. He ran through the rest of the security room and up a flight of stairs. From there he saw that he was in the old bar downtown, and he walked out the door calmly, hiding hid bloody fist.

            As he was walking, he remembered the girl. Was it really in his best interest to go back? He thought. He didn’t want to imagine the horrendous things they might be doing to that poor girl. At that thought, he turned around. He walked back into the bar, and looked at the counter. He saw that a man with a hunting rifle was having a drink. When he thought the hunter wasn’t looking, he took the gun and headed downstairs. Stealthily, he looked around the room he had recently broken out of, and saw that there was nobody there. So he took a left down a dark hallway where he saw a room with a cracked door.

            He opened it slowly, and saw a round table with the same large men around it. But what he didn’t expect to see was the girl. She was sitting at the table yelling at the men. “How could you let him escape!” she shouted. “I give you one job, put him in the chamber. And then guard it. Do you realize how badly we need this man! Do you know how much work I had done to get him here? Do you!” she scorned. I decided that I had to get out, now. I tried to sneak back away from the crack when I bumped into something hard. I slowly turned my head and saw one of the giant men staring down at me smiling. Then I began to panic. So I shot him. I quickly dropped the gun and ran up the stairs. I ran so quick, that I lost my shoes on the stairs, but I didn’t care, they were slowing me down anyways. I quickly ran out of the bar, and took a right. I needed to get out of here. I needed to get where they couldn’t find me. I had not one clue where this magical safe place was but I just ran. My feet were rough against the sidewalk as I made my escape. 

a Wondrous World of Color

In a Wondrous World of Color.

The boy’s skin was blue. Not in that cobalt hue, but more so a sky blue. His sapphire eyes peered into mine as he looked in my direction. The blues don’t usually look at us, their arctic feelings don’t mix well with my people’s heat. And yet, I can’t take my eyes off of their admiral stone world.

       It is because I am a red. My long scarlet hair resembles the flow of blood. My people’s skin is blush with hints of currant, to represent our passion and anger. My eyes are the color of sangria, and my lips a cherry garnet. Our heated appearance represents our culture, who we are.

       Someday I want to live in the purple. The amethyst wonderland in which both of our kind, the calm, and the passionate can come together in peace. Where the adults mostly range in varying shades of red and blue, it is the children who really stand out. Some of them are plum, others magenta. I saw a baby a light shade of boysenberry. Someday I want to live in the purple, to live in equality.

       At least I don’t live in the black. The obsidian trees and walkways, reflecting off of the jade water. Nobody wants to live in the black. The animals, all a raven color, and the people, well, you can’t see. Once you have accepted yourself into the onyx prison, you can never come back. You sit and spiral into an ebony of depression. I don’t know what it’s like there, but I don’t want to find out. 

       I am a red. I will most likely stay as a red. Maybe I will continue to yearn for a blue, to go live happily in the purple. But I am stuck in the red. 

The spill-inspired by paint color

The Spill 

The cherry wine 

Spilled on the carpet, making a radient fizz 

The azaleas went to get a

Clematis petal to clean up the,  

pretty pink colored,

orchid flavored beverage

Off of the rug that was now a light china aster.

Haiku of chocolate

Dark French chocolate meets Bittersweet chocolate 

Dark French chocolate,

Was walking down the stairwell,

 Meets the bittersweet.  

The sweet chocolate,

Was real startled by the French,

Didn’t move an inch. 

Fiery Red-acrostic using a paint color

Fiery Red 

F ound

I n the

E enchanted forest, searching for

R ed and

Y yellow flowers, but the flowers

R an away from

E veryone and headed

D own the stream to safety. 

The Enchanted glow-inprired by a disney paint chip

  The enchanted glow by Glenda Parsons 

Present: Her aura was off today, he thought. Generally she had a certain dark pigment surrounding her. But, for some unknown reason, today it was different.

Before: She was hunting in the abandoned science labs from before the regeneration of the Earth. She had her spear at the ready, waiting for any animal to come by. She wanted to bring an offering for the spirit at the meeting today. The spirit had always been good to the people, and even better to those who provide for the village. You had to stand out for the spirit to notice you, you had to help everyone survive. Just then she saw a light coming from the other side of the room. It was in a beaker on the old rusted lab table. When she had last hunted here it wasn’t there, so it must be a new invention. On the beaker it said CAUTION   TOXIC. But she didn’t care. She looked at it with a wonder in her eyes. This could be my chance, she thought, my chance to appease the spirit. Without another thought on the subject she picked up the container and gave it a quick sniff. It smelt just fine, so she put the beaker to her lips and began to drink. She winced at the awful flavor, but drank the remaining liquid anyways. She felt very warm. Maybe the spirit has recognized me, she thought. And at that thought she remembered the meeting, so she took her spear, wiped her mouth and ran towards the colony.  

Present: He saw her eyes turn green. Everyone had brown eyes in the community. He looked at her intensely, and saw a more yellow hue to her skin. She began festering in her chair, and he wondered if he should help her. As he began to move towards her, he was stopped in his tracks. Her toes lifted off of the ground and her torso was being pulled up to the sky. The community all stared at her in awe. The chief, muttered something that I couldn’t hear and ran towards her. He took off his crystal of leadership, and presented it before her. He and everyone else had kneeled down in a bowing position. “She has the Spirit,” chief said. “The enchanted glow!” He spoke in awe. Then she let out a large shriek, and she suddenly went limp. Then her lifeless body fell to the ground with a thud. She was gone.