There's a Story In This Picture

I am a cage.
I peer inside myself and see many birds.
I look outward and I see a boy.
He's looks like a circus performer,
a great acrobat,
he is holding a magpie
and looking at cats.

I am a cat.
I look 'round and see,
in a line,
my furry,
fuzzy,
fellow felines.
They are watching intently
to see what he'll do,
the small winged man
who is all white and blue.
Attached is a cord wound about his foot,
upwards, a boy,
silent he stood.

I am a magpie.
I used to fly free.
But now I am captured and tied to a leash.
This boy seems so lonely,
he used to feel better,
but that was before I stole all of his letters.

So this poem has ended,
the tales have been told.
But there's a story for every picture, no matter how old.

Beowulf: Part One 50 Word Summary (Made by Ahna)

King Hrothgar has castle called Heorot.
Grendel comes to castle.
People get eaten.
Grendel leaves.
Beowulf comes to save people.
Beowulf's warriors sleep.
Beowulf  not sleep.
Grendel eats more people.
Grendel grabs for Beowulf.
Grendel's arm is ripped off because Beowulf.
Grendel goes to die in a hole.
Yay party.









Extra photo of Grendel

A House of Leaves

Some days in the Autumn,
When the leaves swirl off the pavement,
A little house stands still, alone.

It's not something that can be seen,
Only something to be felt.

It is a well-built structure,
And there's dust upon the floor,
And if you come a knocking,
They'll open up the door.

A house made out of Secrets,
Secrets only leaves can tell,
They tell you an awful lot.
You would hear it as a leaf,
You miss out because you're not.

The dew is sprinkled mystically,
The warm air has turned cold,
And then you hear the whispering,
Only then you'll truly know.

The little house is standing there,
Where it has grown for years,
The little house that gives and takes away
All of your fears.

You know it's standing out there,
When you are tucked in for the night,

You know at day,
It's standing there,
When something's not quite right.

End

All things end. It may be sad when they do, but would you really wish you never knew it, or that it was there once. I have had a few people and things that I loved and they left. They are not coming back from where they went, but I wouldn't change the fact that I met them, that I loved them. I often wonder why they chose to leave or if it was even their choice. If they chose to leave us behind for something else, what could possibly have been so appealing. 

When they go it is hard to understand why, hard to let them go. But hear this now. Maybe,just maybe, we are a better person for it. Think of the things you have accomplished without them. The things you didn't have the courage to do, the things you did because you said "For _____!". Even the small things you did for that person you saw on the sidewalk because you remembered a loved one, made that person's whole world change.

One day, even you will leave. But when you go, just remember, if you where kind, if you smiled at least once, made someone laugh, cheered someone up, there will be people who miss you and who became better people because of you. 

And you know what? Maybe the ones who you thought left you behind, maybe they always knew you'd see them again. And in that case, I suggest you tell them everything you did, because the two of you have a lot of catching up to do.

Thank you for reading, because if just one person liked what I have to say, that is what makes me smile.

Dragon

As I was walking down the street,
 I saw a dragon curled about my feet. 
It was tiny with eyes of emerald green.
 And for a scaly dragon, 
he doesn't look real mean.

 I could never take him home, 
my parents would be mad, 
that is until, I heard it's belly rumbling
 ( Which of course, was rather sad)
And so I took it home.
 No one wants to be alone. 
Then I knew we had to keep him, 
because I saw what he had eaten.

 He is a very cute fellow, we love him 'cause he roasts marshmallows.

The Dancing Fox

Silver in the moonlight,
it danced upon the ground.
It's dancing little fox feet
could never make a sound.

The only time She comes here
is when the moon is full and bright.
You'll only ever see Her
in the middle of the night.

Her fur is of pure silver,
Her eyes a crystal blue.
And when the time was one o' clock,
into the moon She flew.

Blossom

A life. We hear about a death on the news and think "How sad". A loved one passes away and we are destroyed. How is any one life different from another?

A life is like a cherry blossom tree. They bloom and they die. When they do, someone will ask "What color was its bark?" and no one will know for certain. The cherry blossom tree is gone. But we know it was here.

The cherry blossoms bloom for only a few days. Their lives, like ours, are short. But the only thing that's important, is how beautifully you bloom.  You will change many lives and you will leave many marks.

Only 

you 

can 

make 

yourself 

a 

beautiful

 BLOSSOM.

Cat

A cat is someone special, so furry and so kind.
Their warm fluff is so snuggley and
that's what's on my mind.

Their eyes can be like lemons,
yellow beyond compare.
Their eyes can be like emeralds,
like some fancy people wear.

Cats do lots of sleeping,
it takes up lots of time,
and in the poems I have read,
they're all supposed to rhyme.

Cats have little whiskers,
tails and noses to,
and they like to "meatloaf",
but not like the kind that's food.

Flower

I am hiding.
I don't want to go outside.
I am alone.
My only friends are worms.
I drink sweet warmth on sunny days,
I feel cool earth beneath my feet,
and still....I am not happy.

I am done being curled up!
Why should I stay inside?
I won't!
The air is warming up!
I strech and yawn.  
I breath for the first time.
I choke on the fresh air.
I am small, this world is big.
The air is still too cold to bare,
I wrap myself in leaves long gone,
and wait 'till Winter's end.

I am taller,
I have grown.
I have left my leafy home.
The air is warm the sun is bright!
My face can feel the sunny light!

I am all grown up.
I am big 
and I am strong.
I reach my arms up to the fading sun.
The time is right,
the seeds are sown.

Now, 'tis Autumn.
Time to rest.

The Winter's cold,
and I am frail.
I won't last another day.
My child leaves my legacy.

I won't last another hour.
This is my story.
I am a Flower.

Kiwi

Do you remember? I do. I sat in a forest in New Zealand.
The sun was in my eyes.
And then a creature approached me,
and to my surprise,
I saw a little bird thing,
 pecking at the ground.
 It pulled up little worms and squirming beetles to.
Then it looked up at me as if asking "What are you?".
 I named it Little Kiwi and we became the best of friends.
I named it Little Kiwi and that's where this story ends.

Wings

To have wings, to sail through the clouds, what a gift! The birds are lucky, the butterflies are free. They soar on graceful wings, gently fluttering on the breeze.

But I am more like a flying fish. It seems like they playfully glide, but really? They are leaping out of their watery world just to catch a breath of air. They dream to fly! But then they realize they have fins. They cannot fly, even if they wanted to (and believe me, they do).

But there is always HOPE. What stops a dream from becoming real? Whatever it is those fish will catch it. And when they do, they will FLY!