Rhyming Poem "Sky Master"

So the next poem we had to write in my creative writing class was supposed to rhyme. I am not good at making things rhyme. At all. I struggled with this poem a lot. When writing I went with the topic that is easiest for me, as you will see.

Sky Master

High above the clouds,

At the end of all skies,

Where there are no sounds,

This is where it flies.

Those below stare

Upward in awe.

It passes within the sun’s flare,

Its great maw

Open as it lets out a roar.

Patrolling

The heavens, it soars

Enforcing

Its law.

When without warning,

All around it saw

The world was storming.

The forces of nature at war.

Land and sea in conflict.

Creatures of ancient lore

Intent to inflict

Any pain

To overthrow the other

And gain

The world from the grasp of its brother.

People cry out for the Sky Master

And in a flash of green

Arrives the terrible creature.

In all his majesty for the first time seen.

The storms cease

The ancient battlers silenced

A plea for peace

A stop to the primal violence.

The Master of the Sky won,

Sending his enemies

On the run

With ease.

Legends of its deeds go on

And we can only imagine

What it must be to look upon

That Dragon.

Bonus points to anyone who knows what this is referencing.

A "Place" Poem

In my creative writing class my teacher gave us Friday off of class in order to go somewhere for an hour and observe everything around us to write a "place" poem. I was sick on Friday and so I spent quite a bit of time in the bathroom at UVU. Thus this poem. A note, this is not a rhyming poem, as apparently no one even does that anymore. Poems seem to be all about prose instead of rhyme. Anyway, without further ado, here is my poem.

Diarrhea in a Public Restroom

The blue walls of my stall closed in on me

Imprisoning me,

They sought to hold me,

But they had no power to keep me there.

What truly held me was the feeling deep

Deep in my stomach.

I had never wanted to be here,

Especially like this.

Number two in a public restroom

Was on my bottom ten list.

Making it worse, the flow just wouldn't stop

The pain in my belly would not be satisfied,

No matter how much was expelled.

My distress increased

As I heard people come and go.

I knew that they could smell it

The moment they walked in

And that it made their trip,

Their quest for relief,

Something akin to torture.

There is a fan above me

Meant to suck away such smells,

But its power is paltry

When compared

To what my colon can do.

Finally a reprieve

My stomach pain ends

And sets me free

But unfortunately I know

That by days end,

I’ll be back.

Vignettes

Here is what I turned in to my creative writing professor for my short non-fiction vignettes assignment. Hope you like.

Minnesota’s Harsh Beauty

Cold Wonder

            It was so cold. Why would anyone live here? I had heard, of course, that it would be cold. It made sense that it would be cold. I had listened to the advice I had been given and had brought a lot of winter gear. I had convinced myself that I liked cold weather, so even if it’s bad for some people, it won’t be so bad for me. I had arrogantly thought that because Utah has some pretty cold weather, that I could handle whatever nature would throw at me. I was prepared for the worst, except I wasn’t. Why would anyone live in Minnesota? I couldn’t wrap my head around it.

            My car wasn’t even that far away, but it was taking an eternity to get there. Time was slowing down, freezing. I was wearing two coats, both too thin by themselves, and only just adequate when paired together. I was wearing two shirts and thermals. I originally had thought that I wouldn’t need a scarf; I didn’t want to wear a scarf, but I was wearing my scarf. I had learned about myself that I can’t handle having my mouth and nose being covered at the same time, even by a scarf, so my nose was probably turning blue. I had a beanie pulled over my ears, but my glasses left a small opening which the wind seemed to target. I had heavy duty gloves on, but my fingers were still numb. I had boots, which worked to keep the snow out, but couldn’t stand against the cold. Why would anyone live here?

            I reached the car, looking forward to the heater within. I opened the door, briefly looked behind me, and stopped. It was dark and snowing. The snow covered the ground, making everything white. The sky was black and empty, but the ground, illuminated by street lights, was pure and defined. The trees lining the street, with their snow covered, leafless branches, stretched into the blackness. It was as if the light were fighting away the oppressive darkness, but could only do so much against its weight. I left the car behind, walked to the center of the road, and pulled out my camera. Maybe this is why people live here.

Life in the Heat

            Summer in Minnesota is a curious thing. Partly because many Minnesotans have already given up on ever being warm again a few months before summer starts, and partly because it changes Minnesota so completely. Winter is cold, white, and dry. Summer is hot, green, and wet. In winter, the skin on my hands would crack and bleed because they were drying out and freezing. In summer, I was wet again five minutes after drying off from the shower because of the humidity.

            Before going to Minnesota, I had never felt what humidity on a hot summer day feels like. It’s awful. Utah is a desert, it gets really hot there, especially in the south. Minnesota doesn’t normally get above ninety degrees, though there are extreme days where is gets a bit above one hundred. The ninety degrees in Minnesota is far worse than the hottest days I experienced in Utah. Humid heat clings to the skin and laughs when a person seeks relief in the shade for there in no respite in the shadows in Minnesota. I remember my surprise when the sun set and the temperature didn’t go down. It stayed hot for hours because of the humidity. The only days that weren’t swelteringly hot were the days that it rained.

             It was sometime in my first Minnesotan summer that I finally got over my discomfort and noticed what had happened to the landscape. It was green. It was a deep, vibrant, green. I had never seen plants look so alive. Minnesota has a lot of plant life; there are trees everywhere. Every street is a green tunnel. The trees are massive and their branches are full, nearly covering the sky. There were trees in Utah, even big ones, but they didn’t look like this. They lacked something in Utah. Their green wasn’t as vivid as the green in Minnesota. Utah is brown and drab in comparison. The humidity became much more tolerable if it meant that the trees could look like this.

Flooding

            I was living in a tiny town in Minnesota called Aitkin, pronounced like bacon without the ‘b.’ I stayed in an apartment with a friend of mine and two more of our friends were sleeping over that night. It was a small apartment so it was cramped, but it was only for one night. During the night I woke up several times to flashing lights. A fierce lightning storm was raging outside. The sky was lit up more often than it was dark. I didn’t think anything of it.

            We woke up to find that the storm had been far reaching. Duluth, a city over one hundred miles away, had flooded overnight. Entire parking lots were submerged, with only the roofs of cars visible. Huge sink holes had torn away roads. All routes to Duluth were closed from every direction. The problem was that my two friends lived in Duluth. They looked up possible paths and found none. They were trapped in Aitkin.

            Aitkin was downriver from Duluth, and even as far as it was, it was still flooded. The river ran through a park that was now completely underwater. A campground on the other side of town was also gone. As the days wore on we measured the flood by using a bench. On the first day we could still see its seat. A week later the seat was underwater. Slowly after that the water went down.

            On the second day of the flood my two friends finally discovered a way to get to Duluth. They had to go at least eighty miles out of the way to get there. I was glad when they were gone. I didn’t mind them being there, but my apartment was not meant for four people. It could barely handle two. I don’t like crowds nor am I comfortable trying to find things to do for four people in a small town going through a crisis. My two friends had insisted that we do something, that despite the flood we were not going to just sit inside all day. I was completely stressed out the whole time they were there.

            As the water rose over the next few days several businesses were in danger of being flooded. A garden shop was already had two feet of water throughout the entire building. The owners of the carpet place across the street from the garden shop were desperately trying to place a sandbag barrier around their building, but couldn’t do it alone. A local catholic congregation offered to help. My roommate and I heard about it and offered to help as well. We filled bags with sand and tied before handing them off to someone who would lay them down. After we had built a sizeable wall someone brought out boxes of pizza. After all the hard work, that was some of the best pizza I ever had.

            The leader of the group that had volunteered to help build the sandbag wall was impressed with my roommate and me. Not only had two twenty something boys offered to do a lot of hard work for nothing, but we also had an incredible work ethic. At least, that was how he saw it. To be honest, it had been the most fun I had ever had in that little town.

Green Skies

            Storms come suddenly in Minnesota. The sudden ones are the dangerous ones as they are often accompanied by tornado sirens. While I never actually saw a tornado while I was in Minnesota I did hear a lot of tornado sirens. A friend and I were walking down the street with no real worries when is started raining. It didn’t gradually start raining, the moment the rain started it was coming down in sheets. A siren went off, and as it was the first time I heard one, I didn’t know what it meant. Before we could react a woman opened her door and shouted at us that there was a tornado warning in effect.

            Luckily for us we were nearly at our destination. We ran for another friend’s house, and as we ran I noticed something completely bizarre. The sky was turning green. Everything seemed to take on a green tint as we ran. When we finally found safety I asked the friends I was with about it and they acted like it was no big deal. I didn’t want to seem strange so I shrugged it off as well, but I was in turmoil in the inside. The sky turned green! This is a huge deal! How are you not all freaking out! Why have the laws of physics betrayed me?

            I saw the sky turn green several more times after that, and it always happened when there was a tornado warning. I was struck with wonder every time. Why had no one ever told me that something this incredible ever happened? How had I not known about this? I told my family back in Utah about it and they didn’t believe me. Such a thing couldn’t happen, for the sky is blue and will always be blue. It took a tornado to teach me that the sky can be green.

Flooding First Draft

I wrote Flooding before I wrote Cold Wonder. Cold Wonder got me excited about writing and made me remember this blog so I posted it first. Flooding is part of the same assignment, which is a series of vignettes that follow the theme of place. It also needs a lot of work. Do remember that this is a first draft. I don't know if I'll post the revision, it depends on how much changes.

Flooding                                                               

            I was living in a tiny town called Aitkin, pronounced like bacon without the ‘b.’ I was living in an apartment with a friend of mine and two more of our friends were staying the night. It was a small apartment so it was cramped, but it was only for one night, so it was fine. That night I woke up several times to flashing lights. There was a lightning storm outside. The sky was lit up more often than it was dark. I didn’t think anything of it.

            We woke up to find that the storm had been far reaching. Duluth, a city over one hundred miles away, had flooded overnight. Entire parking lots were submerged, with only the roofs of cars visible. Huge sink holes torn away roads. All roads to Duluth were closed from every direction. The problem was that my two friends lived in Duluth. They looked up possible routes and found none. They were trapped in Aitkin.

            Aitkin was downriver from Duluth, and even as far as it was, it was still flooded. The river ran through a park that was now completely underwater. A campground on the other side of town was also gone. As the days wore on we measured the flood by using a bench. On the first day we could still see its seat. A week later the seat was underwater. Slowly after that the water went down.

            On the second day of the flood my two friends finally discovered a way to get to Duluth. They had to go at least eighty miles out of the way to get there. I was glad. I didn’t mind them being here, but my apartment was not meant for four people. It could barely handle two. I don’t like crowds nor am I comfortable trying to find things for four people in a small town going through a crisis with absolutely nothing to do.

            As the water rose over the next few days several businesses were in danger of being flooded. A garden shop was already completely water logged. The carpet place across the street were desperately trying to place a sandbag barrier around their building, but couldn’t do it alone. A local catholic congregation offered to help and my roommate and I heard about it and offered to help as well. We filled bags with sand and tied them off before handing them off to someone who would lay them down. After we had built a sizeable wall someone brought out boxes of pizza. After all the hard work, that was some of the best pizza I ever had.

            The leader of the group that had volunteered to help build the sandbag wall was impressed with my roommate and me. Not only had two twenty something boys offered to do a lot of hard work for nothing, but we also had an incredible work ethic. At least, that was how he saw it. To be honest, it had been the most fun I had ever had in that little town.

Cold Wonder First Draft.

So yes, its been a while, blah blah blah. I have a laptop now, so I should be able to post more. More than that, I am in a creative writing class now, so I will be writing more, allowing me to post more. Here is the first draft of Cold Wonder that I wrote for my Creative Writing class. It is a part of a group of vignettes that we are writing with the theme of place. What do you think?

Cold Wonder

            It was so cold. Why would anyone live here? I had heard, of course, that it would be cold. It made sense that it would be cold. I had listened to the advice I had been given and had brought a lot of winter gear. I like cold weather, I had told myself, so even if it’s bad for some people, it won’t be so bad for me. I arrogantly had thought that Utah has some pretty cold weather, I could handle whatever nature could throw at me. I was prepared for the worse, except I wasn’t. Why would anyone live in Minnesota? I couldn’t wrap my head around it.

                My car wasn’t even that far away, but it was taking an eternity to get there. Time was slowing down, freezing. I was wearing two coats, both too small by themselves, and only just adequate when paired together. I was wearing two shirts and thermals. I originally had thought that I wouldn’t need a scarf, I didn’t want to wear a scarf, but I was wearing my scarf. I had learned about myself that I can’t handle having my mouth and nose being covered at the same time, even by a scarf, so my nose was probably turning blue. I had a beanie pulled over my ears, but my glasses left a small opening which the wind seemed to target. I had heavy duty gloves on, but my fingers were still numb. I had boots, which worked to keep the snow out, but couldn’t stand against the cold. Why would anyone live here?

                I reached the car, looking forward to the heater within. As I opened the door and briefly looked behind me and stopped. It was dark and snowing. The snow covered the ground, making everything white. The sky was black and empty, but the ground, illuminated by street lights, was pure and defined. The trees lining the street, with their leafless branches stretched into the blackness, as if the light were fighting away the oppressive darkness, but could only do so much against its weight. I left the car behind, walked to the center of the road, and pulled out my camera. Maybe this is why people live here.

Camp NaNoWriMo

Boy I sure update this often. Anywho, I discovered that whilst I was gone NaNoWriMo went through some changes. Awesome changes. They now have what is called Camp NaNoWriMo, which is kind of like Christmas in July... And April. I'm not sure how or when it started, but basically in July and April you try to write a novel. The word count is your choice this time, if 50,000 is too much, then lower it so that you can succeed. If its too low, make it higher. Since it has been two years since I've attempted anything NaNo, I chose 50,000 so I can get back into the swing of things.

Participating was kind of an impulsive decision. I knew that I wanted to do it, but when I learned about   It I didn't have a computer that could even function on the website. I still don't, I'm on an iPad right now. I forgot about it until July first when I thought that I should probably check it out and realized that it was indeed awesome and that I should totally do this. Then I realized that it was already July and that I needed to start right then if I was serious about this. Every other time I've done NaNo I've had months or at least weeks to prepare, this time I had nothing. I've been flying by the seat of my pants and its been awesome. Never want to go in it so unprepared again, but for now I'll enjoy it.

At the moment my novel is called Illegal Magic, but that might change as I discover more what its about. So far Caleb, the main dude, has been caught in a trap designed to draw out a persons latent magical power. Also caught in this trap was an elf girl named Tereenya (yes I know that's a silly name, seat of my pants, remember?). In any other part of the world, falling into this trap is an awesome thing, but in Caleb's country, where magic is illegal and strictly punished, it's probably the worst thing that could ever happen. The moment Caleb and Tereenya escape they are on the run, and only manage to survive because Tereenya is an elf and knows how to stay hidden from the humans. Their only hope is to leave the country.

Does anyone else think that this sounds just a little like Final Fantasy 13? That wasn't my intention, but so far it's looking a little bit that way, but only a little. So far I'm at 11,000 words and still going strong. I'll try to remember to update this as this new novel progresses.

Prompt Number 2

You may or may not remember that a few years ago a friend of mine gave me a prompt to write about a unicorn and cerberus. Well, she gave me another prompt and so I do verily post it.


Prompt: Your character is walking down a bright mountain path when he/she sees something that will change their life forever.



Greg loved to camp out under the stars. His favorite place was on a mountain range near his home that most people feared to go into because of all sorts of stories like it being haunted by the ghost of a child who fell from the top and there being trolls deep in the caves. Gregory had spent the night there several times and had never seen or heard anything spooky to suggest a ghost, and he had personally explored every cave he found and there were never any trolls. There were all sorts of rumors and Greg knew firsthand that most were bogus, and he didn’t believe the rest since nothing had ever happened to him there. Yet still, most believed that there was something wrong with those mountains and that you should stay away from them. It was a long superstition that would persist no matter what Greg did, so he didn’t really try to convince people otherwise. It meant that he could have the whole mountain range to himself.

The morning found him heading back down the path back to his home. As usual it was deserted, but it was unusually bright. The sun was hitting the path in such a way that it was lit up like Greg had never seen. He had been on the path during this time of day before, but he had never seen this. He considered himself supremely lucky to witness what he felt was likely a rare occasion. Only it didn’t stop. It actually got brighter and now it didn’t seem to make sense that the sun was doing it. Greg began to be a little worried. This was not a normal occurrence and suddenly everyone’s superstitions about the mountains began to make more sense.

There was a bright flash and Greg was temporarily blinded. His eyes finally adjusted and it was still bright only now he knew why. There was a figure standing in the air and it seemed like the brightness emanated from it. It was a girl, looking to be in her twenties or so. She was wearing a long white robe and had massive wings which were spread out behind her. Each wing seemed longer than Greg was tall, giving her a massive wingspan. Greg thought that there must be something wrong with eyes, but rubbing them and blinking a lot didn’t change what he saw. There was an angel hovering in front of him.

Her eyes were closed and she was unmoving for a few moments which seemed very long to Greg. Then suddenly her head slunk back and she fell, landing on her back. The bright light diminished considerably and the angel again was unmoving, lying on the ground. It took a while for Greg to gather the courage to get closer to inspect her. It hadn’t occurred to him that she might be hurt, she was an angel after all, were they capable of being hurt? There weren’t any signs that she was hurt, aside from the fact that she had just fallen where she lie.

It got bright again, but not so bright that Greg couldn’t see and right before his eyes the angel’s wings slowly, feather by feather, disappeared. She all at once stopped shining entirely and it seemed awfully dark in comparison even though the sun was out. Now she was just a girl in a robe, which was still very unusual to see out in the mountains. Her breathing, which had been calm only moments before became haggard and her face paled. A blood red spot appeared on her robe and blood started pooling underneath her.

Okay, definitely hurt! Greg didn’t know what to do. This was partly because he didn’t know what was going on. She was hurt and needed help, he had to focus on that and ignore for now her strange appearance. He was too far from home to try and get help for her there. He had bandages and stuff in his pack; he needed to be prepared when camping out in the mountains. He grabbed them and knelt down next to the angel and froze. He would have to remove her robe to see the wound. He might not have hesitated so much if he hadn’t seen her appear the way he did. Doing his best to preserve her modesty, he opened a gap in the robe where the blood was coming from and saw a horrific gash. He almost couldn’t stomach the sight of it. He had seen wounds before, but there was something different about this. A dark smoke rose from it, almost as if it had been previously on fire, but this wasn’t a burn. The wound could have only just appeared, but this looked fetid, as if it had gone untreated for weeks already and the flesh on her stomach was rotting away.

Acting on instinct, Greg grabbed some healing salve that he was told was the best there was and applied it liberally to the wound. He hesitated to touch it, fearing that he might somehow be affected, but he had no choice. He was given this and told to use it sparingly and only in the gravest of emergencies, and Greg could think of no greater emergency. Then he applied bandages and might have gone a little overboard with the amount he used. He was amazed that he angel was even still alive and hoped that she would stay with him. He didn’t know what else to do. He was afraid to pick her up after seeing her wound and didn’t think she would be there when he got back if he ran to get someone.

He was still gripped with indecision when she started coughing. It racked her whole body and Greg was sure that it would kill her. Her eyes opened briefly and when she saw Greg he saw fear momentarily in her eyes, but it was gone quick, replaced with resolve. She managed a single word, “Water.”

Greg didn’t know if angels needed water, but he wasn’t about to ask and grabbed his canteen and held it to her mouth and carefully poured some in. He hoped that it wouldn’t make her cough again.

After she had a drink Greg just sat and waited, almost afraid to ask her anything even though he had so many questions to ask. She just stared up into the sky for a long time until she finally spoke again, “Where am I?”

“You’re in the Nacle mountains,” Greg said.

She didn’t respond and Greg wondered if that meant anything to her. He was about to explain a little bit more but she spoke again, “And who are you?”

“I’m Greg,” he said. “I was just walking down this trail and then you suddenly appeared and you were floating and then you weren’t and then you were bleeding!” Greg said this very fast, his mind going a little manic.

“Did you see?” She asked.

“Um, I saw your wings, if that’s what you mean,” Greg said.

The angel closed her eyes and sighed. “Then you are doomed to the same fate as I.”

That didn’t sound good. Her fate seemed to be dying in a middle of nowhere mountain range. That didn’t sound fun. “What do you mean?” Greg asked.

“Your witness of my true self has drawn you into a war that has gone on for centuries. You know of what I am, and so they will not let you live. You likely don’t have much time until they come to make sure that I am dead. At that time they will kill us both. It is too late to run, they will sense that you were here and track you down,’ the angel said.

She said it in very ragged breath and it took her a while to say it all. Greg didn’t know who ‘they’ were, but he didn’t want to find out, though it seemed like he had no choice. Running seemed to be pointless, so instead, “How long do we have?”

“Are you not going to run away?” the angel asked.

“You just said that it would be pointless, and there is no way I can leave you here like this,” Greg said.

“You will die sooner then,” the angel said.

“I’ll die either way. Maybe I can hold them off and give you time to escape or something,” Greg said.

“I am too injured to escape, or do anything, I don’t know why I am not yet dead,” the angel said.

“I patched you up and put healing salve in your wound,” Greg said.

“A kind gesture, you have my thanks, I’m sorry it will mean your death,” the angel said.

“There must be something we can do,” Greg said, not really caring for the hopelessness of the situation.

“We have an alternative, but it might be a worse fate than death,” the angel said.

“What is it?” Greg asked.

“If this were to happen, you would be drawn into this war that is without end and likely be forced to fight in it for the rest of time until death would mercifully take you. Your life will never have anything familiar in it ever again; you would leave your life here to fight in this battle. It is a terrible war, and I was ready for death, but if you have a strong enough desire to live despite this, then I will live and save us,” the angel said.

Whoa, that was heavy. Greg liked his life, and both choices seemed to take that away, either with immediate death or eventual death. Greg wanted to know what was going on and he didn’t want to die, but fighting some horrible evil or whatever it was that was coming for them didn’t sound like it would be worth the answers.

When the angel appeared it had become incredibly bright, now it became terribly dark. That couldn’t be good. “They arrive, what do you wish?”

Two dark blobs appeared that seemed to suck all light into them. After they dissipated two being were standing on the pathway ahead of them. Greg expected horrible demons or something, after all, what else would fight an angel, but they looked human enough. It was dark and cold however, and it seemed to be coming from them.

“What is this?” one of them said. “She still lives? Your aim must have gotten weak brother.”

“My shot was true,” the other said. “Look, a human is kneeling next to her, it probably saved her.”

“Your shot couldn’t have been true if a mere human could stop death from taking her,” the first said.

They argued for a while and Greg’s mind was racing the whole time. He didn’t know what to do. His options were terrible on either end. He looked to the angel and her once stoic face was fearful. “Which are you afraid of,” Greg whispered, “living or dying?”

The angel in a hushed tone said, “Dying.”

“Then what must I do?” Greg asked.

“Lean closer to me, to my face,” the angel said.

Greg did as he was told and the two who were arguing noticed. “Hey! What are you doing?” He said with urgency in his voice.

Greg got as close to her face as he could and he heard the two start to run for them and he thought he heard a fire start to rage. It was too late, they were both goners; there probably wasn’t time for whatever the angel needed to do to be done. There was time however, as it was a small act. The angel leaned forward with much effort and kissed Greg, surprising him.

The world went white in a bright flash and Greg, instead of blacking out, whited out.


So, I know that this is really cliche, but I couldn't think of any other way to do it. It was fun to write though.