Just short..:)

There is actually a story to go with this poem; I had this idea for a story, and then this book said I should write a poem about my idea. So I did! But, um, its not actually a poem, its more like a really short story written in poem style.

******
Elise flung herself down, wondering what to do;
Then imagination sprung with its magic.

Mermaids and dolphins, bubbly laughter
Emerging from the inner souls and lips.

Exquisite little fish, alluring their prey
From the pearly coral.

Okay, so I've figured it out. Every time I promise to get something up quickly, something happens and it doesn't get on here for weeks. So, I'm really sorry that I haven't posted this until now, and I'm really sorry for how much I apologize. Also, I promise not to make promises in my posts again anytime soon. Okay, so that's a little exaggerated, but I at least will stop promising to get the next bit up soon and hopefully it will happen anyways. :) (See my logic?) DREAM ON READERS- I would have posted some chapters from Dream On this week, but I have hit a bit of writers block.

Jovlin was still looking out of the window when something zoomed past her so fast that she couldn’t really see what it was. At first she thought it must be a giant bird, because she was certain she had felt the touch of feathers on her face as a wing passed her, but it was much too big for a bird. Suddenly, the sky was full of brightly colored flashes, flying through the air as if chasing the wind. They swooped around, chasing each other with such speed that they could not clearly be seen. Each was a different color, each seemed a different size.

I have missed posting on apricotpie these past two months. My summer has been really busy and I have had sooo many ideas that I simply can't seem write it down on paper...yet. It's frustrating. But anyways, this is the story on how I became a Christian. I hope you'll be encouraged. :) ******* When I was five or six, my family and I went to listen to Billy Graham when he came to preach in New York.

[Author’s Note: As usual, this chapter contains mature elements and may not be suitable for younger readers.]

“Martje!”

“What?”

“C’mere.”

A tin pail clanking against her leg, she walked over to her father, standing by the red barn wall.

“Pignuts?” Mr. Svenson asked, casually.

“Jea.”

“I have something for you.”

“Oh? - What is it?”

“You have to follow me.”

“Can you bring it right here? I..have to take these inside.”

“I can’t. It’s in the barn. Come on now, Marty…”

He must have noticed her hesitation.

We weep and wail.
We gnash our teeth.
We loose our way and stumble.
We cry and scream.
We shout and yell.
We whisper and we grumble.
We blink, we rub.
We look for light.
We gouge our eyes to clear them.
We yawn and gape.
We pause and listen.
We try and fail to hear them.
We think and think.
We pause and ponder.
We try to understand it.
We plead and beg.
We give and take.
We order and demand it.
We love and hate.
We laugh and growl.
We promise and believe it.

We were born and raised
To a measured beat
And we shuffle to the rythm
With our tired feet
And we skid down the hills
And we march and climb
And we claw through the brambles
At double time.
We pass by scenes
In a circular way
What we see tomorrow
We passed yesterday
And no matter how new
There will always be more
Though I don't know your name
I've met you before.
And the humdrum humming
Of this mundane tune
If there is an end coming
It better be soon,

Canto VII. God is Dead

It is finished, He gave up His soul,
The wrath of God has taken its toll.
The darkness, risen dead, and earthquake,
The curtain torn – for this, who would not shake?

If it ended there, what more could be said?
The Son of God was weak and stayed dead.
Sin was not conquered; the disciples had fled.
Those He helped had all been misled.
God was not powerful; they laid Him in a tomb –
Might it have been better if He’d just stayed in the womb?
The Light has failed,
His glory has paled.

The following is a true story. I am writing this mere minutes after it happened. I am a musician. I do most, if not all of my work on a computer. I keep a lot of information and samples and other important things on a thumb drive. The thumb drive is an HP, model FD USB drive. I've customized it by gluing a broken Shift key to the front. Yesterday I went to the visitation for my great-grandmother's funeral. I had the thumb drive in my pocket then.