The story of That Girl

If I ever met…
Such a serene little girl.
With blond curls and blue eyes,
Her soft hands lingered in her mothers.
Her smooth pink cheeks
Holding that perfect smile.
If she ever had an inkling
That this Sunday,
Was the Sunday that her most beloved family member
Would be lost.
Her mother-- looks pretty,
With her long blond curls and blue eyes, always smelt sweet.
The white dress draped her back as she crossed the road,
She was audacious.
Her mother was the only ne that the little girl was close to.

The little girl cried over
Her mothers now pale skin.
Dripping a profuse amount
Of perfect tears of love
Over her mothers cracked lips and stretched cheek bones.
Crying the waves of the pacific,
Now she had no one to share laughter with, to share her love with.
This lasted days.
Until her abhorrent father
Confiscated her traces of her mother.
Beloved photos soaked in tears,
White linen that she slept in scented with sugar.

She was ruled by her mean father,
Shouting out orders like daggers.
Punishing her for half of what she never did.
She was always "that girl" to him.

For years until she was set free
Into the big world,
At first she was clueless.
Not little any more she figured it out.
The only place she had was a little apartment
With two rooms and a leaky sink.
The only money she made was
From working for a string factory.
But she soon realized that it was better living there,
Far from her father.

She soon made a friend,
A dark skinned girl,
As quiet as a mouse.
She taught her how to laugh.
She made another friend,
He had olive skin,
Taught her how to love.
She mad more friends.
How to live again.
She was happy, with the leaky sink, and the low pay.
She had friends,
All types.
And shared the rest of the life with them.
She was happy.
She figured life out.
To live it with happiness,
And share it with the ones you love most.


(made it up.)

The Catcher in the Rye

"All this madman stuff,
happened to me
around Christmas.
Just before I got pretty run down.
Had to come here to take it easy".
Pency.
My room--
The heat was on for a change,
Made it feel kind of cosy.
There is two armchairs in my room,
There is two goddam armchairs in every room.
All the arms were in sad shape--
Everyone always sits on them.
'cus they looked soft I guess.
Oh yea,
I got kicked out too.
I don't think I was supposed to come back,
After Christmas i mean.
On account,
I was flunking everything,
except English.
Now I think I'm gonna hang around
For some kind of goodbye sign.
I don't care if its a sad goodbye,
A bad goodbye.
But,
When I leave a place
I like to know I'm leaving it,
If you don't,
You feel worse.
Then,
All of a sudden,
I thought of something.
"Made me know I was getting the heel out".

The Secret Life of Bees By Sue Monk Kidd

Reviewed by Eleanor A.


Sue Monk Kidd has created a wonderful world in just one book, The Secret Life of Bees. It is the story of Lily Owens, living with her harsh father-- T.Ray--on his peach farm in South Carolina, 1964. Her life is circled around the fuzzy image of the day her mother died. Lily has a big, black kind-hearted “stand in mother” for since she can remember-Rosaleen.

When Rosaleen insults three of the most bigotry people in town they muster up the gust to escape from the police, T.Ray and his peaches, to Tiburon, South Carolina where they’re introduced to a trio of black sisters—Agust, June and May—make Black Madonna honey for a living. They happily take them both in for a while, with a condition—Lily has to help make the honey and Rosaleen has to help with the house work. I think Lily is a lovely girl that decided on her own that she wanted to know as much as she could about the traces and memories of her mother.

This book is a great Realistic fiction novel; it is a New York Times Bestseller. I enjoyed The Secret Life of Bees because it is written so sweetly. I think that this book will touch your heart with various emotions, as it did mine. A great book to read, The Secret Life of Bees.

Late Homewok

Don't you hate it when you get home from school and you say you'll start you're homework, but you go off thinking you have better things to do and don't get round to it until it's too late. Or when it’s a weekend, you know you have spare time, and know you have to do homework, but you go and do something else anyway. When you leave homework until the last possible minutes.
Well something like that happened to me last weekend. I left my school bag at a friend's house with all my books and work in it, and the only time I could retrieve it was Sunday afternoon. So I went and got it. As soon as I got home we ate dinner, as soon as we ate dinner I took a shower. I only had a few minutes to do my homework before my mom started on a long tirade about should have done it earlier. So I ran to the computer (still wet), sat down and dried my hands and typed faster than the worlds fastest. I finished my writing, Spanish and science work in recorded time.
So I think I should start my homework earlier next time.

You Got to Love Her

The soft flow of her hair flows with the scent of apple blossom,
The sweet look in her eyes as they open into wide blue pools of happiness.
We sit on the berry colored bean bags,
And jabber on for short hours about anything we can think of.
We drink sugary drinks together,
And laugh ourselves silly.
We take in one balloon worth of helium between us,
And scare our mother with the squeak of our voices.
We lie on the hammock and nudge each other,
Until 'Crash', one of us falls.
We fight sometimes too.
All the way to slaps and shouts,
But I still love her, not just because she's my sister,
Because she's a friend and you got to love her.
She's like a pet; they get annoying, and are hard to get rid of.
But you still love them anyway.

Hot Lime and Honey

SOL
The hot water burns your pink lips as you taste the flirty sweetness and sour goodness smooth down you're through as soft s a butterfly's wing. The hot honey and cool lime swirls together in a hot perfume of tea that hits you in the head with a perfect essence. The warmth of the hot liquid spreads through out the inside of your chest. You bring the rim of the mug to your lips for the last time and take a sip, making your taste buds go wild. A drip of tea strolls down your chin and drops off leaving a sticky path of choughs in its own way. Your sore scratched throat is smooth again, and you feel fine as you put the mug down next to you. You turn the light off, leaving darkness in its place. Then…you slowly drift to sleep.

Silly Bands

Why do some people collect silly bands?
I don’t abhor them in all the ways possible and they're not amiss in any way, its just I don’t see the point of them. This is not a tirade of everything about silly bands, it's just my opinion. I mean some of them are cute but its not like they're worth anything, are they? They were probably invented when the rubber band factory messed a bunch up and then decided to sell them as what ever you think the look like. Naming them something that can represent all of them - Silly Bands. Come on…I don’t even know what some of them are. They're expensive too, two whole dollars for like four of them. I also wonder why boys have them as well. For example, I recently heard a little boy scream to his mother saying, "MOMMY, MOMMY, I GOT THE PINK FLOWER SILLY BAND, it can go by my orange dinosaur now." or something like that anyway. Or I see little children impelling their mothers to buy silly bands for them. I have a question, why when some people have an armful of silly bands they still entreat for more? I see them everywhere, it's like they haunt me or something. Out of the corner of my eye, red, green . . . glow in the dark, what next? I guess we'll have an interminable era of them until the next thing comes along.