I feel the itch.
An idea grows.
My mind alive,
my writing flows.

My pen is swift,
words chosen with care.
It is a gift
I wish I could share.

My sympathies to those
who’ve never tasted the desire
to set hand to page
and light words on fire.

(I figured this should go under poetry, even though it's a prayer. Praying can be very like poetry sometimes, and vice versa...)

In my opinion modern youth have lost their ability to talk. Everyone has had the experience, no doubt: the teenager behind the checkout counter refuses to engage you in a pleasant conversation. Although many youth enjoy talking, they see it merely as an outlet. Teenagers willing to have stimulating conversations or even able to relate to someone else’s struggles seem hard to come by. Today’s young rappers underscore the situation. One rarely looks to these teenage-boy role models for stimulating topics, rather selfish rants.

Neon green bursts
Through the bubble of appearance
The neophyte strains to put
His brain-child back into focus.

Quickly turning,
Swiveling in his ratty chair,
His musings spring the grin
Apt to spread uber-Programmer's face.

I only see code,
he complains, tapping the screen
With his index finger;
Peering at uber-Programmer's desk,

He leans to discover what
Magic worked to create his superior's
Incredible output; his amazed eyes
Find uber-Programmer's blank screen... wait

Yet it becomes a search for meaning.
There is fear,
Yet it leads to higher ground
There are faults
But there are lessons that need learning.
There is pain
In Him the remedy is found.

Here is He.

Who is wisdom
In your doubt
Who is safety
In your fears
Who is grace
In your faults
Who is love
In your pain

He is God.

I climb up this tree
And want to fly away
But I have no wings,
Just millions of hairy feet
Every one who is anyone is flying above
Pointing, jeering at the only one who dose not fly
I stare at the clouds wanting ,dreaming to be within them
But I can't I'm stuck here on the ground
I want so badly to be with the beautiful
To soar on out-stretched wings
So I change my look my attitude my voice my friends
I make two plastic superficial extinctions
That pose as colorful wings
I escalate on a burst of wind

Crack went the slate upon Gilbert's head.

Now go away quick or you will all be dead.

Carrots he called her and she turned as red as a beet.

"HOW DARE YOU!" she cried quite quick on her feet.

Stand at the blackboard cried the teacher!

She thought of him "what an awful creature.

"Quite despicable was he spelling "Anne" with no "e"

She only wished to put him under lock and key.

Dear Homeschooling Friends,

Here's a paper I wrote on George Herbert for my British lit class . . . if you feel the deep need for the works cited page, e-mail me through the comments e-mail address and I'll make sure I get it to you :)

“Inner Weather”: Tension and Resolution in George Herbert’s Poetry

"Just as Jonah became a sign to the Ninevites, so will the Son of Man be to this generation. At the judgment, the queen of the south will arise with the men of this generation and she will condemn them, because she came from the ends of the earth to hear the wisdom of Solomon, and there is something greater than Solomon here. At the judgment the men of Nineveh will arise with this generation and condemn it, for at the preaching of Jonah, they repented, and there is something greater than Jonah here." ~ Luke 11:30-32

GREATER