Letter From Heaven

So, digging all the way back to my senior year of high school, I found this poem and thought I'd share it.

Letter From Heaven

Live in the moment,

Laugh through the pain.

Life is to short to cry because of rain.

When you are hurting and

Thoughts on Thomas Hardy's Poetry

This is an essay that I wrote for my English Literature class last semester in response to some of Thomas Hardy's poetry.  

            The reading assignments this week, consisting of selections from the poetry of Thomas Hardy, were very interesting and enlightening.  I am familiar with Thomas Hardy as a novelist, having read two of his novels and seen the film adaptations of two more, but I was unaware of the fact that he was a poet as well.  All of Hardy’s poetry is beautiful and enjoyable to read, but the poem that stood out to me the most was “He Never Expected Much”. 

“Never, I own, expected I / That life would be all fair.

‘Twas then you said, and since have said, / Times since have said,

 In that mysterious voice you shed / From the clouds and hills around:

 ‘Many have loved me desperately, / Many with smooth serenity,

 While some have shown contempt of me / Till they dropped underground.”

(NEAL 2325-6)

            This excerpt stood out to me because the first two lines are fairly accurate of my attitude towards life.  I don’t

Thoughts on a Poem by Alfred, Lord Tennyson

Continuing with some essays I wrote last semester, this one was also written for my English Literature class, this time about the poetry of Alfred, Lord Tennyson.  

As we transitioned from learning about the Romantic Era and its poetry into learning about the Victorian Era and the poetry produced in that time, one of the poems that really struck me was “The Lotos-Eaters” by Alfred, Lord Tennyson.  The entire poem, with its theme of wanting to give up, stand still and rest, I found really fascinating, but I particularly connected with this stanza:

They sat them down upon the yellow sand,

Between the sun and moon upon the shore;

And sweet it was to dream of Fatherland

 Of child, and wide, and slave; but evermore

 Most weary the wandering fields of barren foam,

 Then someone said, “We will return no more”;  

And all at once they sang, “Our island home

 Is far beyond the wave; we will no longer roam.” (NAEL 1959)

 The sentiment expressed in this excerpt is one that I feel

Thoughts on Robert Browning's Poetry

This is a short essay that I wrote last semester for my English Literature class.  Throughout the semester we were to write responses to what we were reading.  These are some thoughts I had upon reading Robert Browning's poetry. 

Robert Browning was a poet who was not understood or appreciated in his lifetime.  His contemporaries thought that he was too difficult to read and understand.  While it is true that his poems are not as easy reading as other poets, such as his wife, Elizabeth Barrett-Browning, Robert Browning’s poems are rich and deep with meaning, full of beautiful imagery and symbolism.  His poem “Childe Roland to the Dark Tower Came” is a perfect example of this.  The eighteenth stanza of this poem in particular stood out to me:

Better this present than a past like that;

Back therefore to my darkening path again!

No sound, no sight as far as eye could strain. (NAEL 2067)

            The feeling expressed in this stanza is one that deeply

The Place of True Freedom

This is a piece I wrote for an English class my second year at junior college.  After we had read Jonathan Swift's "Gulliver's Travels", we were assigned to write a satirical essay.  This is the product of that assignment.

The Place of True Freedom

Walking home from work one night, feeling depressed at the state of the world, I saw a sign saying that a man who knew the secret to fixing the world’s problems was here tonight to share his knowledge with us.  Curious, I ducked into the theater where he would be speaking and took a seat.  The man came out to the podium set up on the stage and began to speak.  I leaned back in my chair, eager to listen to this marvelous man who held the secret to a peaceful and contented world.  This is his speech.

On Politics and Policies 

A Treatise on How to Make Our Country and World Safer and More Fair.

Our world today is filled with injustices and hatred.  People are fighting in the streets; children are going hungry while the big-shot CEOs are buying new cars and bigger houses; businessmen and policymakers are showing favoritism when they make decisions.  This is absolutely not right.  All humans are created equal.  We are all brothers and sisters in this world and as such we must join together and help each other, refusing to show favor or preference to one group or another.  If we want to make our world a better place, we must embrace unity, tolerance, justice and freedom.  Everyone must be free to express themselves without fear of censor or ridicule.  All are entitled to have freedom of speech, freedom of thought, freedom of expression, freedom of religion and freedom to do and think as one pleases.  We must have freedom from

Not All Glory

Here is another essay that I wrote for my freshman comp class in junior college.  The assignment was to chose a poem from our anthology and exposit it's meaning, using research and our own interpretations.

Not All Glory

I'm fed up to the ears with old men dreaming up wars for young men to die in. 

- George McGovern 

In his poem, Dulce et Decorum Est, Wilfred Owen contests the wisdom of those who lead young men to believe that war is something to desire and aspire towards.  He attacks this concept with evidence from his own personal experiences at the front, using graphic imagery to impress upon the reader the horrors, the ugliness of battle.  War is not the beautiful, exhilarating and glorious experience that Romantics make it out to be; rather it is hard, ugly and more often than not, traumatic for those involved.  Owen knows this, having experienced war on the front, and he writes hoping to warn his readers. Hoping to protect them from having to experience this disillusionment firsthand. 

The title of the poem ironically suggests that it will be a

The Legacy of Literature

Today I am going to move from things I wrote in high school to something I wrote my freshman year of college.  This essay was written for my freshman comp class during my first semester at junior college.  We were told to find an aphorism (which, according to the dictionary is a pithy observation that contains a general truth) and write an essay about why we thought the aphorism we chose was true using personal examples.  Enjoy.

                                                                            The Legacy of Literature

                                              “A room without books is like a body without a soul”

                                                                                        - Cicero

Just as the soul of a human being brings life and animation to the body, so do books bring those same qualities to a room. When the soul departs, the body is left a lifeless shell - a shadow of what was. Likewise, a room without books is dull, lifeless and dead. A person’s soul is immortal, living on after the body is dead; so to, are books. Long after an author has died, the books written by them have the potential to live on to inspire and teach those who come after. 

I have experienced such teaching and inspiration in my own life. Many of my favorite books, the ones that impacted me the most, were written by people who died many years before I was born. A perfect example

Lauren's Journal

Going back to the idea of posting some of my older work, I found a couple of things that I wrote in high school that I thought I might share with you all.  

This short story was written for some sort of contest in my junior or senior year of high school.  Once again, I have not changed anything from the original.  

 Lauren’s Journal

Who am I? What am I doing here? What’s the point in living anyway? Those were the words written in the center of the first page of the journal I had found. All around them, filling up the rest of the page, were drawings. Sad drawings. Pictures and sketches of crying girls, angry boys, wilting flowers and bleeding hearts. Pictures from the hopeless. Tears streamed down my cheeks as I turned the page. Whoever the owner of the journal was, they were obviously hurting.

At first I didn’t want to read it. It was someone’s personal journal, I had no right! But I felt drawn to it. Something inside me whispered and told me to read it. No! I kept saying, it isn’t mine. But it kept whispering. Then I realized it must be the Spirit. So I picked it up and started reading.  I read all night. It was impossible to put down. As I read, I wept. I wept as I never had before - - and doubt I ever shall again. This girl was hurting. Her very soul was screaming for help.

  Her name was Lauren Stewart and she was 16. Very likely only a few months younger than myself. She was an only child whose parents were alcoholics and drug dealers. They never paid much attention to her nor did they care about her, so

Reflections. . .

Life is full of seasons and changes.  Nothing stays the same.  People come and go from your life; they grow up and move on.  Physical, material things rot and fade away.  Everything in life will eventually be touched by the fingers of change; nothing and no one can escape.

The last few months have been a painful, scary and yet exciting time.  I've experienced so many changes and been thrown so many curveballs recently that at times I feel that if life doesn't slow down, I might suffocate.  In one day, my circumstances can change one, two or even three times.  But I guess that's what happens when you grow up.  You get to see and experience everything from the front lines, because mom and dad are no longer standing as a barrier between you and the "real world".

Here I am, sitting in my dorm room.  All grown up and on my own at a college a little less than three hours away from my hometown.  I've been here since August and now, for the first time in two months, I finally feel like I have a moment to breathe and just be.  As I sit and allow myself to simply exist, I am hit by the weight of all that has happened in the last few months.

I'm at college.  I don't think the reality of this fact has really hit me yet.  For as long as I can remember, college has been the distant dream.  Something I wanted, but doubted would happen.  I figured that by the time I had been out of high school for two years,

Almost A War Bride - Original Poem

I've been looking through my files and have been finding a lot of things that I wrote many years ago.  I decided to start playing around with them and then sharing them with the world at large to see what people think of them.  This is a poem I wrote when I was 14 or 15 and has not been changed at all from the original.

He wanted to marry before he left, but she was young.

Just 16.

 And the war wasn’t going to last. 

He begged and asked, but she remained steadfast. 

And so, resigned, he asked her to wait, 

 Wait for him to come home. 

To this she consented, so off he went, walking on the heels of fate. 

As he left, waving his hat, off to war

Her heart fell.

An unexplainable fear came upon her, she knew not what for.

Mockingjay - The Hunger Games Book 3

I have so much to say about Mockingjay that I'm not quite sure where to start.  I have already shared some of my reservations or misgivings about this series in my post on The Hunger Games and I have raved about how much I liked Catching Fire.  So, what do I share about Mockingjay?  I supposed I shall start by summarizing and go from there.


***SPOILER ALERT*** In this post I am assuming 1) that you have already read these books and 2) that you have already read my previous posts on this series. If you haven't read the book, consider yourself warned, if you haven't read my previous posts, go here.


Mockingjay picks up a few days after Catching Fire ended.  Katniss is with her mom and sister in District 13, but she is still very distraught.  Peeta is in the hands of the Capitol.  The president of district 13 wants her to become the face of the rebellion, but Katniss is unsure if she supports it.  She doesn't like the Capitol, but the rebels did lie to her and leave Peeta in the arena to be captured.  That doesn't really endear them to her.  Then she sees Peeta on Capitol TV telling the rebels to stop fighting and give up.  Katniss knows that he is saying this because he is being forced to, but

Catching Fire - The Hunger Games Book 2

So, building on my last post, today we shall be talking about book two of the Hunger Games trilogy, Catching Fire.  By far, this was my favorite book in the series.  I feel like the first one set the stage and the second one was the climax of everything and then the third.... well, we'll talk about that one later.  I'm going to focus on analyzing the story and talking about what I think about style, character development, etc.  I already spent a decent amount of time digging into the deeper meanings and such in my post on the first book.  If you haven't already, I highly suggest reading it before you jump into this one, as this one will build on the other a little bit.


***SPOILER ALERT*** I will be discussing the book as if I am talking to someone who has already read it, thus I might give away important plot points, so if you haven't read it yet, consider yourself warned.


Picking up right where the Hunger Games left off, with Peeta and Katniss returning home as victors, we watch as new drama and difficulties unfold for Katniss.  She and Peeta are barely speaking since he found out that her lovey-dovey act in the arena was just that - an act.  She and Gale rarely see each other since she still has to keep up the idea that she and Peeta are in love and Gale is now working in the coal mines.  In short, Katniss' life is now pretty miserable.  Before the hunger games, Gale was her

On a Personal Note....

I've sat down to my computer so many times in the last week to write, but every time I end up stopping, deleting whatever sentences I have come up with and going back to stalk my friends on facebook. Why? Well, quite simply because all I can think about right now is my family's crazy situation and what I can do to help, and that's kind of personal. And believe it or not, I'm kind of a private person. I have a hard time sharing my thoughts and feelings with my family, let alone write about them on a blog. Which is interesting, because I'm a writer. I don't think that I'm that good at talking (although others tell me I'm very articulate and communicate very clearly), but give me a piece of paper and a pencil and out flows everything I am thinking. Sometimes it takes the shape of a poem or a story, a form that someone could read and not realize that what I wrote is actually my heart. They would just think that it was a good story or emotional poem. I like that. It makes me feel safe.
I think that's what it boils down to for me. Feeling safe. For some reason I have it in my head that showing emotion is weakness. That admitting your need for help is weakness. And I am a strong person. I am not weak. But I've had to learn over the last two years that letting go and admitting my insufficiency is strength. For I am made perfect in weakness, and when I let go and let God take over, He fills me with His strength.
I constantly need to be reminded of this. I'm the oldest of ten children; I still live at home; my dad has been unemployed for eight months and we are very close to losing our home. And there is nothing that any of us can do. My dad is pounding the pavement every day searching for a job. Any job. My mom takes care of the house and the rest of the kids and I am a full time student who has to study, but also takes advantage of every opportunity to make some money by house cleaning, babysitting, house sitting, cat sitting, or working my home based business.
What is there left to say or do? Nothing. All we can do is wait and pray. I know God has a plan. I know He is leading us down a road and that He knows where it leads. But it feels like He has led us into a tunnel that is a thousand miles long with no lights. And as of yet, I cannot see the light at the end that means we are almost out of the tunnel. I feel like we are still in the middle and the train has broken down.
I know that this tunnel will end. We are going through a hard time right now, but I also know things could be much worse. We aren't kicked out onto the street yet; we have more than enough food; we have clothes, clean water and electricity.
So now that you know what I'm going through, you'll probably want to be kept up to date on how things go, so stick around and I'll keep you along as we go on this crazy ride into the unknown.