Tag Archives: Laugh

Through the Fields


She walks through the fields,
The wind blowing through her dark hair.
As she drifts, she sails on the wind.

With pale arms outstretched, she sings.
Her songs are of new love,
Intertwined hearts, and lovely days.

Bare feet waltz through the grass,
Dancing with the breeze
That carries aromas of daisies and roses.

Flowers braided in her hair,
Freckles turned up to the sun,
She leaps and twirls through her peaceful haven.

She cries, she laughs, she ponders.
She basks in the sun,
Which is her constant friend.

She is the Wanderer,
The Queen of Nature,
The Dancer.

She is the Singer.
She sings in the refreshing rain,
And she sings under the rays of her friend.

And through all, she dances,
Skipping softly around
Her sea of weeds.

Her true home,
Her make-believe garden,
Her blissful sanctuary.

This poem is posted on TeenInk over here. (Please, please, PLEASE rate it!)



moon 076

I never thought I’d make it to sixteen. This age has always been somewhere far away in time. It’s always been a time I’d never reach. And yet here I am, able to say I’m sixteen.
It’s kind of creepy. But that’s okay. I can handle this kind of creepy, because it comes with a lot of good, and so many new dreams and ideas I think my head is going to explode.
See, I have almost impossible goals for my sixteenth year. I don’t want to say what, because I know that the chances of them happening are negative 100%. But I can hope and dream and try my very hardest to succeed. Also, I can say this: what I want to do with this year is huge (like, so huge it feels like Mt. Everest to me). It’s something that, if everything goes as planned (*laughs*), will touch a lot of people.
But I have to trust God and pray a lot to get there. And then there’s the hard work and the concentration. But maybe, just maybe, I’ll succeed. And when I do, we can all celebrate together. And if I don’t get there, seventeen will come around soon enough.
But for now, I’ve only got a year to be sixteen, and I’m going to make it the best I can.


Six Word Stories (Plus a Secret Story)

I like writing (and reading) six word stories. They can be fun writing prompts because they leave so much left for the imagination to figure out. Such a little bunch of words can make you laugh, wrench your heart out, or make you raise your eyebrows at someone’s cleverness. These stories can help you to appreciate the art of writing, too. I mean, some of these tales are pretty awesome, right?
Here are some of mine. Enjoy.

He handed her a single rose.
She twirled and spun and laughed.
“We have come to kill you.”
She took her backpack and ran.
She took it, smiled, then left.

“Will you please dance with me?”
She gave it all to Him.
The whole family resented that man.
But he couldn’t let her go.
She didn’t remember anything at all.
He received the letter, then disappeared.
Time went so fast back then.
He begged her to not go.
The little girl lost her balloon.
His anger destroyed all of them.
“I can’t do this any longer.”
After much begging, she finally consented.
They still laugh at year-old jokes.
(That counts. Hyphens mean one word.)
See what I did there? Six!
They dated for two whole years.
“Just let go. I’ll catch you.”
They sung songs all night long.
She fell asleep under the stars.
They’ve been married for twelve years.

Now for the secret story part! Somewhere in here is a hidden story (it’s not individual words. I’ll {possibly} do that another time. But just worry about the sentences for this one). Whoever can find the story wins! But you don’t get anything. Sorry.
HINT: It contains 7 of the sentences (gee, I practically gave it away right there).

Have fun!

Have a Laugh.

The other morning, I was determined to write a short story. About what, I had no clue. So I just sat there in a rocking chair on the front porch, staring into space. Nothing came to me. My mind was blank. Then an idea came to me. I would write a short story about my problem! I would write about writer’s block.
Now, the only way you’re going to find this funny is if you know my name. So. Does anyone know who I am? Anyone? Well, for those of you who don’t… Rebekah.

Now read. I promise it’s not long, and you’ll at least smile when you get to the end. Even if it’s only mentally.

Greg sighed. He hated writer’s block. The whiteness of the notebook page almost seemed sinful to him. Poking the page with his pen, Greg tried to think up a first sentence. Even a word would do.
Greg had gotten up early to write. Always had. Before the kids bounced down the stairs with their cheerful noise, he’d tiptoed down the stairs and into the kitchen. He’d woken up his wife, Cherry, because he’d stepped on a LEGO and sworn slightly louder than he’d planned.
All for nothing. The only thing he could think of was how awful writer’s block was. He’d read many articles on how to “Rid Writer’s Block for Good,” or on “Making Writer’s Block your Friend,” but nothing helped.
Then Greg got an idea. He’d write about writer’s block. Carefully, he formed his dot into an “R” and wrote, “Rebekah sighed. She hated writer’s block…”

Have a lovely day.