Back to Homeschool {First Day}


Hi guys! Yesterday (23rd) was my first day back at homeschool. It went pretty well. I’m using AmblesideOnline for most of my subjects. Yesterday I studied William of Orange, read half of a (very very long) letter from Benjamin Franklin to his son, did a little last minute planning and other things. In my notebook I wrote down a quote from the letter of Mr. Franklin that I found interesting. It’s always intriguing to explore the mind of a famous guy…

And lastly (I may as well confess it, as the denial of it would be believed by nobody), I shall perhaps not a little gratify my own vanity. Indeed, I never heard or saw the introductory words “Without vanity I may say,” &c., but some vain thing immediately followed. Most people dislike vanity in others, whatever share they have of it themselves; but I give it a fair quarter, whenever I meet with it, being persuaded that it is often productive of good to the possessor, and to others who are within his sphere of action: and therefore, in many cases, it would not be altogether absurd if a man were to thank God for his vanity among the other comforts of life.” – Benjamin Franklin

One of the other things I included was creative writing where I chose a prompt and wrote a story on it. Here is the prompt I used:

While sight-seeing in  a foreign city, a tourist gets lost, robbed, chased by a pretty girl’s angry fiance, and even catches on fire for a little bit. All in all, it’s an unforgettable experience.

A Day in New York City

By Zielle

I don’t know how he ended up there. But there he was. Just a tiny speck amidst the sky-scraping buildings, the hustle and bustle of the city; and, unlike at the rolling green hills of his home, Andrew could barely hear himself think.

Ever since he was boy, he would sit in his tree, perched on the highest branch, dreaming of the day he would finally set foot on the grounds of New York City. Now in his early twenties, Andrew ignored his alternate life of marriage, hopped on a plane and flew through the skies to the greatest country in the world.

The young man shrugged of his backpack and sat it down on a bench. From where he was standing, he could see the Statue of Liberty atop the little island near the harbor. He fumbled around his backpack for his iPod, and snapped a quick picture of the statue. He sighed happily, a smile creeping onto his lips.

This was going to be a beautiful day.


I’ll take two, please.” Andrew dug his fingers into his pocket and came out with a dollar bill he had changed into American currency. “Thanks.” He took the paper bag heavied with two corn-dogs. “Have a good one.”

Andrew walked down the street, cars zooming by him. A truck roared past and more than one horns honked. “Off all the things to be doing on a tour in New York City, I eat corn-dogs.” He scolded himself, glaring at the golden brown of his lunch.

He surveyed the place for a spot to sit, and found a bench with barely an empty spot right on the edge of the seat. “Excuse me.” He said to the person who would be sitting next to him, and the woman just nodded and walked off. Andrew shrugged and sat down.

Hi sweetie,” a young lady placed her hands on a man’s shoulders, popped her heeled foot up and planted a kiss on his cheek.

Andrew looked up. Her blue eyes and silky blond hair reminded him of his little sister back home. He grinned.

The young man who had received the kiss shot a glare at Andrew. “Are you flirting with my fiance?” he demanded, taking a step towards where Andrew was sitting, his fists clenched at his sides.

No.” Andrew said, making the face that he always made when someone asked him a stupid question. “She just reminded me of-”

Of a pretty lady?” The man barked.

No!” Andrew stood up, then nearly dropped his corn-dogs in fright when he realized how much taller and bulkier the guy was than him. “Excuse me, I’m outta here.” He held his hands up in defense and walked off.

The man grabbed Andrew’s shirt and halted him. Andrew turned around. “Look mate, I don’t want any trouble, okay?”

The man roared and swung a punch at Andrew, but he ducked just before the punch would’ve sent him onto the ground with a broken nose and a lost eye. “Calm down!”

Herb!” the girl rushed towards her fiance. “Just let it be!”

The man ignored his fiance and Andrew figured it was about time to start running. He ripped his shirt from the man’s hand and took of. The crowd parted like a wave, obviously not wanting to be hit by a 200 pound maniac yet knowing they could easily toss aside a skimpy fellow like Andrew.

Andrew swerved to the right, running down a street that seemed to be fuller than the last, if that was even possible, and flattened himself against the hot, sun burned wall. Herb ran past, sweat forming at the back of his shirt. Suddenly the screech of brakes being slammed on shrieked in everyone’s ears and Herb stopped to yell at the driver for almost running him over. He turned around and gave a roar of anger when he saw Andrew zip back down the road the same way he came.

A road neared, and Andrew skid to a stop as a car sped past not regarding that he could possibly run a building over at that speed. Andrew frantically pressed the button for the pedestrian. The crazy 200 pound maniac was right behind him, so Andrew leaped onto the road and hailed a taxi to stop. Thankfully, no one was inside, so he ripped the door open and slid into the middle seat, slamming his finger onto the lock. He was more than sure that the guy could catch up to the car and rip the door right of its hinges if he wanted to.

Where do you wanna go?” the taxi driver tapped his finger on the wheel and coal black eyes looked at him through the rear-view mirror.

Anywhere.” Andrew panted. “Farthest place away from here.”

The driver chuckled. “Bad day, huh?”

It was going great at first, but then it just went downhill from there.” Andrew sighed. “Got any recommendations for a good place to eat?” he asked, realizing his corn-dogs were no where to be seen.

If you could care less and you’re running low on money, Los Tacos no. 1 has great food. If you’re fine with pricey and you’re a fancy guy, Mastro’s Steakhouse is a great place. ”

I have one day in the city of my dreams. I’m starving. I just got chased by a girl’s angry maniac fiance because I thought she looked like my little sis back home. I’m willing to spend anything as long as the food’s good.”


Lunch was a huge success, the food was great, except for one small detail:

While Andrew was sitting at the table waiting for his food when a young man cleared his throat behind him.

“Excuse me.” He said. “My wife and I were having a debate-” he shot a glance at his wife, probably the lady standing behind him with her hands on her hips. “And you-” He motioned his hands toward Andrew. “You look like a smart guy and I think you might have a solution to our problem.” He looked at his wife again and folded his arms, then turned his gaze back to Andrew.

Andrew turned around in his seat. “Pardon?”

“We’re only here at this restaurant because my wife and I were discussing who should be the one to cook dinner. We both have jobs, and when we come home we never know who should cook; my wife insisted that I ask you for your opinion.” He explained.

“Well I don’t know.” Andrew looked back at him in helplessness but the man just stared at him waiting for an answer. He shifted awkwardly in his seat then stood up. “I don’t have any idea. Sorry. My Mum was usually the one to cook our dinners, but this is-“

“Excuse me!” the lady behind the man bounced up, her red curls bobbing on her shoulders. “You insolent, disrespectful fool!” she screamed. She walked over to Andrew and slapped him across the face. “How dare you?!”

“Ma’am, I simply said that my Mum usually cooked our dinners; this has nothing to do with your situation!”

“Waiter!” the lady shrieked. “This man is bothering us. What will you do about it?” she placed her hands on her hips and pursed her lips.

Andrew crossed his arms, certain the waiter would never kick him out. “Excuse me sir, I’m sorry, but we can’t tolerate behavior like this. I’m going to have to escort you out.”

What a polite way of kicking someone out.

Andrew threw his hands up. “You know what? It’s okay. I can get out myself.” With that he turned and walked out the building.

You remember how I said that the food was great? Let me rephrase myself. The food looked great. Because poor Andrew never got to have a bite of it.

He exited the restaurant where he found a young girl of about sixteen sitting against the wall crying into her tattered shirt.

Hey, you okay?” Andrew asked.

The girl looked up, smearing dirt across her cheek as she tried to wipe the tears away. “I guess.” She said. “I’m hungry, I’m tired, I’m scared, and I have nowhere to go!”

Andrew pulled out his wallet and dug out twenty dollars and handed it to the girl. “Go get yourself something to eat, okay? The food here is great. Well it looks great… Do you have any family?”

The girl shook her head but managed a smile. “Thank you so much!” she stood up and to Andrew’s surprise, threw her arms around him in a tight hug.

Happy with himself, Andrew was around half an hour away from his car and thirty minutes away from the restaurant before he realized his wallet was missing.


Hey!” he yelled, running back the same direction he came from. “Hey!” he yelled again, wishing the girl could hear him but knowing she wouldn’t be able to.

Nothing looked familiar except for the amount of people, the same reckless drivers and the same sky-scraping buildings. He remembered he went down an alley, so the first alley he saw, he turned down. A rat neared his foot and he kicked it away with a hiss.

Why was his day going so bad? What had he done? Was he being punished for leaving his little sister who had so long begged him not to leave? He placed his hands on his head and kicked a can. It hit the wall with a clash. His stomach was not full yet, his wallet was gone, and who knows which alley he’d run into the crazy fiance maniac again?

After about 30 minutes of walking, Andrew had no idea where in New York City he was. He’d walked down so many alley’s now.

He never got lost. But now he found himself lost. Completely and utterly lost. When finally his brain gave in to the idea of going back up the alley’s and going for help, the sun shone cruelly down on him, and more so on a scrunched up ball of paper, so that its rays burned it and it burst into flames. In a second it caught onto a cardboard box, and flames shot up everywhere.

Andrew rushed towards it trying to stomp out the flames. But it was too big. “Hey!” he yelled. “Help!” he started to run up the alley, but the flames grew slightly bigger. A dirty towel lay sprawled on the ground covered in rat poop, and Andrew snatched it up. He slapped it frantically against the flames, but the little ragged piece of cloth was consumed in seconds and the fire lapped up his pants. He yelled, dancing around in his pants on fire. He dropped to the ground and rolled, and the fire around his legs ceased to a sparkle and smoke drifted up from his singed legs.

But that wasn’t the biggest problem, because the flames were getting bigger by the second.

Suddenly a cold blast of water met his back and then water spewed onto the flames and they bowed to the water and turned into billowing smoke.

Andrew turned around. It was the girl he had given the money to. “You!” he yelled. The girl just stared at him frozen like a mouse. Then she dropped the hose she held, threw Andrew’s wallet at him, then took of running.

The wallet still had everything inside of it. She had probably felt guilty and tried to find him again to give it back.

“Hey!” Andrew yelled. “Wait!” he sighed and shook his head. “Poor kid.”And he ruffled his hair and walked back up the alley.


I still don’t know how a guy like Andrew ended up in New York City. But, one thing he was sure of: he was never going back to New York again.

Like it? 😉

Yesterday for Bible we read in 2 Kings how Elijah was taken up to heaven. Did Elijah go up to heaven in a chariot, or in a whirlwind? I’ve always thought he went up in a chariot, but it said in one of the verses that a chariot of fire separated Elisha and Elijah but Elijah went up to heaven in a whirlwind. In earlier verses it also said that Elisha would never leave Elijah and then when asked what he wanted before Elijah left, Elisha asked for double the connection with God that Elijah had. Elijah told Elisha that he could have it if he saw him when he was taken up to heaven. Perhaps the chariot of fire was to test Elisha’s loyalty and to distract him and he would’ve missed Elijah’s ascend to heaven.

Or maybe the whirlwind is just a metaphor that Elijah went up to heaven fast?

What do you think?

~ Zielle

Smile! God loves you.

CPC {Challenge Five}

Story: 1

Prompts: 2


Related image




“Why is your pumpkin still here?”

“What are you talking about? I threw it out a long time ago.”


Photography/artwork: none (I’m SO sorry, Carol!!! :/)

Total: 3



“Why is your pumpkin still here?”

“What are you talking about? I threw it out a long time ago.”

“Well it’s still here.”

I get up from my seat on the porch. There it is. Right where I had put it about a month ago. I sigh. “I thought I threw that out.” I pick it up by the stem but it falls and about half of it breaks of and splatters the porch steps with orange black pieces of mushy pumpkin.

“Help me, will you?” I gallop down the rest of the steps and get down on my knees. Ivy, my best friend, gets on her knees beside me and we pick up the pieces.

“Ew.” I grimace as I pick up a moldy piece, nearly breaking and falling through my fingers. We gather all the pieces up and carry them to the bin, saving the still intact other half of the pumpkin for last. I pick it up, and a note smudged with pumpkin seeds and mold slips to the ground. Ivy picks it up.

I hurry back after dumping the pumpkin in the bin. “What was that?”

Ivy lets her arm flop to her side and tries to hide the paper in her fist. “It’s a note. Nothing of importance.”

I grin and nab the paper from her. “What is it?”

She pauses, forcing her eyes to look up at me. “It’s from your Dad.”

I open my mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. I try again. “From Dad?” I look around, as if surprisingly my long lost Dad would be there, standing right beside me. I fumble with the paper before opening it up, not caring about the moldy pumpkin smeared all over the front.

“To my dearest daughter, Jordan, I’m sorry for not being around all these years.”

“Yeah right he’s sorry.” Ivy mumbled, looking away.

I glare at her. “I’ve wanted to come and see you, but I never have been able to. If you can ever forgive me, put on the necklace I enclosed and you will be with me. I promise. I love you. Dad.” I try to keep the tears from spilling. “The necklace. It’s not here.” I rush towards the bin.

“Jordan, your Dad is long gone. For all you know he’s in heaven and putting on the necklace means going to be with him there!” Ivy rolls her eyes.

I spin around to face her. “Hey. Don’t talk that way about my Dad.” I grit my teeth.

“The Dad who left you and your Mom the day you were born?”

“He didn’t leave, Ivy! You have no proof that he did. He disappeared. He said he was sorry. He said he loved me!”

“Jordan, maybe its time to let go. This is why I didn’t want to show you the note! And why in the world was the note in a moldy pumpkin?”

“I don’t know if you’re serious or not. You have a Dad, Ivy, he’s always been there for you. It’s easy for you to say. If I have one shot at getting my Dad back, I’m gonna take it.”

“What does it even mean about if you put the necklace on then you’ll be with him?” she stops. “I just want to see you move on, girl. I want what’s best for you.”

“Ivy! Just stop. At least I’ll have something from him!” I yell, trying to keep the tears from spilling.

That quiets her.

I huff and pull open the bin lid. I tip it over and begin rummaging through it. There it is. I pick it up, the chain glimmering in the sunlight. I brush the love heart locket with my finger and open it. It’s a picture of my Dad and me when I was born. “Dad…” I whisper. “I miss you.”

I rub the necklace on my pants and hook it around my neck. Ivy’s hand reaches my shoulder. “I’m sorry, Jordan. I didn’t mean-”

I look up. “Me too.” I stand up and hug her. “Finally- finally I have a picture of what my Dad looks like. Finally I’ve got a piece of him.”

I close my eyes.

“Jordan-” Ivy pulls back from the hug.

“What?” I wipe my eyes. “Oh my- Ivy!” I practically jump on her. We’re not at my house anymore. We’re somewhere else. On a bridge. In the jungle. Above a river, and the bridge is up high.

Related image

“Relax, girl.” Ivy rubs my back. “Where are we?”

I shiver. “I don’t care. But we’re- I’m-” I stutter. “Get me of this thing!”

Ivy gently pushes me forward and I edge across the bridge, gripping the ropes as tightly as I can muster.

We reach the other side of the bridge and I breath a sigh of relief.

“Where are we?” Ivy repeats.

Trees surround us on all sides, and a monkey swings from a tree. “I don’t know. But this is definitely a jungle.”

“I see that.” Ivy says.

“Maybe this is where my Dad is!”

“You didn’t take him literally, did you?”

“No, but what if he’s here?” I say. “This is where he disappeared to!”

“Aren’t you the least bit surprised we’re here?”

“Of course I am.” I step over a log. “C’mon.”

We walk up a trail a little way, and then there is a wooden sign stuck into the dirt. “Welcome to The Jungle.”

We keep on walking and then suddenly a shadow looms over us and the ground shakes as a huge bee lands on the jungle floor in front of us.

Ta da! I didn’t finish it, and I probably never will. Who knows? 😉 That wasn’t my best work, and I certainly didn’t like it but I hope you enjoyed it anyway!

~ Zielle

Purple Iris Photoshoot + 100 Followers & Announcement!!!

Hi everyone, back again! 🙂

I recently took a couple pictures of our iris’s in the front yard, and I thought I’d share them with you along with a poem. Enjoy!


Ah these are so pretty! I love this next one.






I have 100 followers!! *screams*


On my last blog, I waited 8 months for 49 followers. Now? Oh my goodness. Thank you SO much, guys! You guys mean so much to me; THANK YOU! You are amazing!


1226 comments (including mine)


Top Commenters:

Thank you SO MUCH, everyone! 😀

*hands out marshmallows and chocolates and mint chocolate and mint tea and mint candy and mint everything*

OK, now for the announcement I hope you won’t be disappointed.

I’m planning on hosting a writing contest very early next year if the heat doesn’t make me lazy-er . *cue the screaming* *hears nothing*

I really like the idea of photography and writing, so if Carol doesn’t mind, I might use that idea unless you guys have another idea. I want writing AND something else.

You could also get a couple bonus points for creativity.

There have been a lot of writing contests lately so I won’t blame ya if you want a break, but just letting you know in advance. 🙂

So if you have any ideas for things that go well with writing in a contest, PLEASE let me know! Thanks!

~ Zielle

CPC {Challenge Two}

As I said in my last post, I’m hoping/trying to get back on my schedule, but my sister just got married so I had been helping with all the preparations. Sorry the pictures are kind of bad. 😉 Anyway, here we go!

|Prompts I used/points|


Image result for picture prompt


“Have you ever dreamed of flying?”


I watched as everything faded before my eyes.


This could not be happening.

Prompts: 3

Story: 1

Photo/artwork points: 18

Total points: 22

I watch as everything fades before my eyes. As we drive down our rocky hill I watch as I see the blue fence of our porch and the green of our almond trees shift from view.

No, this is not an almond tree. 😉


This can not be happening.

Have I ever dreamed of flying? Of course I have. Who hasn’t? Who hasn’t dreamed of soaring above the clouds; free; happy; away from the troubles of the rest of the world? No one. No one that I know of. Each person I have ever met wants to get away.

Wow I didn’t realize how dark this picture was…

But now, I want to stay put on the ground. I want to  walk on the same grass where I took my first step.


Climb up the same tree where I marked the highest branch as my own. I want to live the rest of my childhood here. I want to have the same fun and adventure I had for my first years. I don’t want to leave. I see the yellow on the wattle tree beside our swing set fade into a blur, and our plum tree loaded with fresh plums slowly disappears.

2016-08-08 12.03.44



I feel like I’m a tiny person trapped in a place where I don’t belong. Longing to be where I do belong.

Image result for picture prompt
This image isn’t mine. It’s one of the prompts.

Where the only things that hear my singing is the trees. Where when I feel like crying; I can, without any ears to hear me. Where when I’m happy, I can laugh my feelings out to the azure sky.

The memories of our picnics under the creamy clouds, the sunsets in the evening, and the sunrise, both beautiful scenes we could see above the mountain peaks from our windows.

I remember our raft where we floated on our pond, fishing out yabbies in our nets, and wading across our driveway when the rocks below overflowed.

I hear the signal of our car flick to the right, and we turn, leaving the gate, the pond, the rocks, the trees, and my home.


But then I smile. At least I can still remember all the memories. At least, wherever I go, I can make new memories. New cherished moments. And whatever time brings, this place will always be in my heart.



A very… inaccurate drawing of my old house. XD Sorry for the terrible quality.

There you go! 🙂 I hope you enjoyed. ❤Be - YOU - ti -f ul!-4

Define That Word #2 {Voting!} + The Wands of Trystal Chapter One

What’s up? 🙂 Here are finally  the polls for Define That Word! Guess who’s been stalling for two weeks. *tries to ignore blatant stares of her audience*

Well whatever. Here they are!

I made a new stories page! Check it out. 🙂 Also, for the title of my book, what do you think is better:

Fun fact about my book: There are going to be five books in the series!! 😮 (impossible)

And, comment below what you think the title of Book One should be. Above, you are voting for the title of the whole series. Now what should the title of book one be?

How about, let’s do another poll.

Chapter One

I lean against the window, gazing at the dull gardens of the school yards. I tear slides down my cheek, and I quickly rub it away. No one can see I am crying. I promised my Mom I would be strong. A year ago, my Dad left my Mom and I, and just three weeks ago I was taken to live with my Aunt when my Mom disappeared. In only two days, my Aunt had arranged for me to be shipped of to Miss Steeple’s Boarding School for Girls.

I imagine myself with my Mother, flying through the sky on fairy wings. It has been my wish for so long, I think.

The school bell gongs and I leap from my seat on the window sill. How many times has it rung this time before I paid attention? I wonder. Yesterday it was six, so I had been told. I can’t be late for class again.

I grab my brush and run it through my golden hair, and then twist my hair into a french braid. A curl bounced over my eye and I push it back. Messy again. Mom used to do such beautiful and neat braids.

I arrive in class, and the first thing I look at is the big grandfather clock ticking away on the other side of the room. 9:16AM. My record of being late. I sigh and slide into my seat, ignoring the blatant stares I grew so used to in my two weeks here.

“Miss Drinnigan, I thought I made it clear that if you were late again, you would not have dinner for three days?” Miss Steeple’s voice cuts through the whispers and snickers echoing through the room.

“I’m sorry, Ma’am. I lost track of the time.” I answer in all honesty. I feel my cheeks burn a tomato red. “I was thinking about- nothing.”

I hear a giggle from across the room. Miss Steeple gives the owner of the giggle a cold stare. “Miss Temple, back to your duties.”

“A time to think, a time to be on time.” Miss Steeple claps her plump hands together. Another loud snicker sounds behind me. Miss Steeple says nothing. Only smiles slightly. Of course. Jessica Morgan. Teachers’ pet.

“Turn to page seventeen in your English books.” She turns back to me. “I would like to see you after school, Jovial.”

I nod. “Yes Ma’am.” “I let my backpack fall of my shoulders. I kick it under the desk. Another day without my family in this horrible place. I feel a sharp tug on my braid. Jessica Morgan. I grit my teeth and turned back to my work. She isn’t worth wasting my time. Jessi smirks. “I heard we’re having potato soup for dinner tonight, Drinnigan.” She whispers. I can feel her hot breath in my ear. My stomach rumbles. I suck in my breath.

“Yeah right, Morgan.” I shoot back.

Jessi gives my braid another yank and looks down. “Jovial Drinnigan. What a sissy name.”

I glance at the clock and then close my eyes. “Six more hours.”

School drags on, and finally the last bell of the day gongs and I shoot out of my seat like a rocket on fire. “Jovial!”

I stop. Right. Miss Steeple wanted to see me after school. “Yes Ma’am?” I turn around.

The girls push past me and Jessi Morgan rams her shoulder into mine. “Have fun, dork!” she hisses, then turns to Miss Steeple, putting on a silky smile. “See you at dinner, Miss Steeple.” Miss Steeple smiles and swoons over Jessi’s beauty. She is so much more beautiful than me, I know.

I scowl. Rat.

Miss Steeple turns back to me. “I know your mother just died, but that doesn’t give you any excuse to be late for every class since you’ve been here. I expect better from you, Jovial.”

“I’m sorry, Miss Steeple. It’s just been hard.”

Miss Steeple sighs. “I will see you at dinner tonight, Jovial, don’t be late. And please try harder.” Miss Steeple brushes past me, patting me on the back.

Maybe she isn’t so bad. I creep to my room, trying to avoid the cold stare and mean words of Jessica.

I push the door to my room open. “I wish I were a fairy,” I say outloud, as soon as the door is shut. “Then I could get away from reality.”

Being a fairy has been my dream eversince I was two years old and my Mom read me fairytales every night before bed and when I woke in the morning.

I spy the painting above my bed and smile. It is a painting of my Mom and I that she had painted. In the painting we are walking down the path in our favorite park, holding hands. It is Autumn, our favorite time of year. Mom has a periwinkle in her right hand, holding it pressed against her chest. I am only six at the time.

“Oh Mom, I wish you were here. I wish I could be a fairy and escape this awful place.” I whisper, climbing onto my bed. I place my hand on the periwinkle. Smiling again, I sink into the bed and lie down for a quick nap.


Music is playing. Everything smells so sweet like the honey dew scent I smelled every morning at home. My eyes flutter open. Where am I? I blink my eyes to adjust. So blurry. I gaze at my surroundings. A silky purple canopy is above me, the color of a fresh periwinkle. But it is still bright in the room. Around me there are people. But they look different. I feel like I have known them for a long time.

I struggle to sit up and blink again. I’m right. They’re fairies. Lacy wings extend from their backs, fluttering as the fairies flit about the place. This is impossible. Fairies aren’t supposed to be real! But yet, here they are in front of me, flying around. I must be dreaming. But it all looks and feels so real to be a dream. I don’t bother pinching myself. Even if this is a dream, I never want to wake up. That must mean I am small. Because everyone knows fairies are much less than a thumb high.

“She’s waking up!” a voice says. Oh no. I don’t want to! I close my eyes, thinking it is someone from my boarding school. But then I open them again when I still feel the cold hard surface of the toadstool I am on beneath me.

I try to find the owner of the voice. It’s a boy. He has a hint of green in his wings, and the green in his eyes are only a tint darker. He wears a long brown shirt and leather pants. A braided leather belt is strapped around his waist and he wears boots. He flies towards me, a bow and arrow in hand. I scramble back. “What-what are you?” I try to sound steady, despite the fact that I am a little scared, but it only comes out as a croak.

The boy scoffs. “I expect you’d know. You wished to be here.”

“Be nice, Kip.” Another voice says. A fairy, a girl with long shiny aqua colored hair floats towards him, placing a hand on his shoulder. Her voice is like a rippling brook. Her eyes are a shallow sea blue, and her dress blue, fading into a lush grass green.

“Relax, Lark.” Kip says, a slight smirk on her face.

Lark glares at him.

“Oh I know you’re a fairy, but- how? Why?” I stutter.

“Hi there!” Lark says, pushing in front of Kip and smiling. “I’m-”

“Queen Alalia!” she is interuppted by a shout. “She’s here!”

My head shoots up when I hear the name. I wonder what fairy has the same name as my Mother’s.

The fairy who is called Lark, darts back into the crowd. Kip, the fairy with the bow and arrows flies beside me, extending his bow and fitting a feathered arrow on the quiver, aiming it directly me. My eyes grow wide and I try to look for an escape route. Suddenly his arm shoots up and he lets go. Zing! The arrow whizzes over my head. I cower. It sices a rope holding a curtain made of long vines. They are covered with leaves and flowers. It drops down behind me, just barely brushing the ground. I stare at it. Periwinkles.

I turn back to the fairies. A hush flows over the crowd of fairies and everyone sits still on their toadstools and petal seats.

I back to the vines. I squint. It’s so bright. A fairy in a long glittering dress made from thousands of periwinkles, appears from behind the vines. It looks like someone I know. Someone I have loved for a long time. My heart skips a beat.

Muahahahaa whooo is it? Guess in the comments, but I won’t tell you. 😉 You probably will guess right though. 😛

What do you think of my new book? | Got any constructive criticism for me? 

Past Poetry Puddle (??) And Your Shocked Realization That Yes, I Am Still Alive

I feel like I haven’t posted in a month; hence the title. (wait, past poetry puddle?) But yes, if you felt the same, then I am alive and I’m back! *tries to find GIF. Does not succeed. Where can I find good GIF’s???*

Hurray hurray!

Sorry for not giving you any notice at my disappearance (I did keep in touch with Enni’s poetry contest though 😉 ). We didn’t have any internet data, so we couldn’t use very much internet. So I didn’t post. And I’m sorry for not being able to read all your lovely blogs! ❤

I’m also going to share with you a couple of my horrific poems I’ve written over the last couple of years… I don’t really write poetry anymore, but I’ve sort of gotten back into it a little because of Enni’s contest. I said only a couple poems, because I’m going to save you from reading the really bad ones. 😛

This one was pretty good actually; I wrote this back in 2015:

Wrapping His arms around me,
I feel loved like a child in a Father’s arms,
Wrapping His care around me,
I feel happy in the Savior’s love.

Like a chick taking refuge in my mother’s wings,
I feel warmth with the glow of His love.
Like a Father whispering in his child’s ear,
“I love you,”
Like a child feeling peace in my Father’s hug.

His voice is that of an Angel,
Speaking softly the truth into my ear,
“I love you my child, don’t ever forget.
You’re beautiful to Me, just the way you are.”

This next one could be better, but I hope you enjoy it. I think I wrote it 2015 or 2016:

My Bed of Roses

Red Beauty,
Positioned among the roses,
Lets out her beauty,
Spreading her silky petals,
Curling them.
They are a shiny crimson red,
Wet with the dew from the early morning rain.
Above her sister’s, looking down on them,
A rainbow, tipped with glitter and color.

Then comes Yellow Lady,
Her silky leaves spreading as a shade,
  To the buds below her.
Her petals dance lazily in the wind,
Tipped in dark pink,
Almost like a ladies glove.
Fairies like to dance with her petals,
Curling themselves in the blanket of her shawl.

Lastly comes Pink Lady,
Trying to spread her petals.
Still a little while,
Her sisters say.
Her middle is a dark pink,
Her petals still formed together like a growing bud.
Her long stem holds firmly in the ground,
And she holds her head high.

Three young roses,
Standing by my house,
Proud, beautiful, kind.
Three young roses,
Petals of silk,
Stand below the rainbow,
My bed of Roses.

This next one I wrote in 2015 as well (ok I’m going to stop giving you dates now), but I tweaked it for Enni’s contest:


Just behind our house stands a tree,
As tall as the eye can see,
And as the wind whispers its secrets,
The leaves dance with glee.

The Dancing Ladies bob their heads,
Their silky petals flowing in their garden beds.
The hills behind stretch to as far as I can see,
It’s grass a soft bed for the lambs.

Clouds drift across the sky,
Snapping pictures of a swan, a duck, a boat floating by.
The flowers, the trees, the bubbling brook,
Paint colors in the afternoon sunset.

Its rays are a hint of the hues;
Purple, orange and red.
It casts it colors, across the water it does spread,
Making it glow like the mornings dew.

The brook bubbles happily,
Washing its cool waters about my feet.
Birds float in the sky,
Spreading their wings and soaring high.

The following poem I wrote when my Dad went to see my sister but I didn’t go because I didn’t want to say goodbye again. 😉 😛 Now that I look back the poem doesn’t really make any sense…

She asked me why I didn’t come,
I couldn’t say goodbye.
I have too many ‘Hi’s and ‘Hello’s,
And much too many goodbyes.

I wish I could have just one ‘Hello’,
And leave it just at that.
I couldn’t say ‘Hello’, just to say ‘goodbye’.

This next poem I wrote on a website called Storybird (my poem isn’t on there anymore), inspired by an illustration of a mouse. 😉 The top line and the bottom line won’t stick together for some reason…

Mouse in The House

There’s a mouse in the house,

Darting to and fro.

He stays there all day
And he feasts on the cheese!

We don’t have a cat,
So we send in the bees,

But the bees don’t work,

Oh what will we do with that troublesome mouse?

There’s a mouse in the house,

And when the sky grows dark,

He’s disguised with bark,

and sips up the cream.

We don’t have a dog,

So we send in a hog.

The hog can’t catch it,
that cheeky little mouse,

Oh what will we do with that troublesome mouse?


Ok this is a poem I wrote aimed at kids; I think it was for a mini contest 😛

My Little Yellow Pogo Stick

My little yellow Pogo Stick
Takes me anywhere.
It took me to the garden bed,
It took me to the park.

My little yellow Pogo Stick,
Takes me anywhere,
It took me to my Daddy’s work,
And I sailed past his room.
I waved at him,
And he was surprised,
To see me flying by,
I laughed and giggled
As I said, ‘He takes me anywhere!’

And this one as well… XD

Lily-pad one, lily-pad two,
This froggies name is Little Bodie Boo.

Lily-pad three, lily-pad four,
These froggies names are Tootsies and Roar.

This one was a poem I wrote for a mini contest to write a poem (rhyming) that didn’t make any sense. I think mine made a little sense though. XD

Piece of Cake

Who wants a piece of cake,

That’s ready all to bake,

I want to take,

A piece of cake,

And then quickly I partake,

A piece of yummy yummy cake,

That is all set to bake.

We’ll have a picnic by the lake,

And piece of cake we all will take.

And then we’ll make a pretty bake,

And gladly decorate.

We’ll put it in a big big crate,

For our big big cake we baked.

And then we’ll eat our bake we baked,

And then our teeth will ache.

This one I wrote describing what we used to do in homeschooling; poetry teatime, where we had tea and cake and shared some poems with each other. This was one of my older poems.

Poetry Teatime

Dressed up together in olden day clothes,

Ribbons and hats with shawls to match.

Brownies with cream, and chamomile tea,

dainty plates all set with dates.

Poem times with laughter and fun,

eating cakes together with mum.

As Mum reads to us Line Upon Line,

on strawberries and cream we dine.

As poetry teatime comes to an end,

Our poems to you we’ll lend.

Three more! I wrote this one for… well I just wrote it.

Spring Has Just Begun

I gaze out the window one bright sunny day,
I see that all the snow has melted away!
I run out the door just to be amazed,
I can even say that I am dazed.
The daffodils blossom,
The tulips look awesome,
The winter air is gone.
The leaves on the trees lost their wintry touch,
Because Spring has just begun!

I hear all the birds singing sweet,
I think it is a treat,
The grass is lush and green today,
The sun shines its brightest ray!
The trees are blossoming with apples to bake,
A fruit galore I’d love to take!
I see that everyone is happy and glad,
Because Spring is finally here!

I see a baby lamb take its first little step,
And hear the little birds chirping in their nest,
The animals come out, it’s time to play,
Bring out some lemonade on a tray!
Listen to the birds, listen to the trees,
Listen to the animals, because they say,
“Spring welcomes you today!”

And this one I wrote for Enni’s contest:

We Will Love

Love watches the sun rise from our window,
And sees the sunset glow on the water.
Love watches the leaves turn to gold,
Love watches them fall.

Love shares troubles together,
And holds each other up through them all,
Love has a shoulder to cry on,
And stands by each other.

Love experiences joy with each other,
And walks down the street holding hands,
Love journeys through life together,
And shares laughter and tears.

Love takes each others hands and dances,
Waltzes across the floor even with two left feet,
And love dances to the music so sweet.
Love treasures each moment together and holds each other close.

And now that we’re old and frail and gray,
Let’s share much more together.
Let’s dance once more and hold each other,
And we will love.

This one I wrote for school because we were supposed to write an elegy. XD

An Elegy Remembering A Made Up Bully Who Is Not Based On Any Person In My Life


To Henry Zack,
Who treated me like a rice sack,
I don’t wish him back,
But this remembrance cannot lack.
With the loudest voice,
And obnoxious noise,
His voice will scream annoyance no more.
With him gone, my heart shall soar.
I must treat him good,
And not like yuck food,
May he rest in peace, though me, he booed.
Henry Zack, I almost had you sued.
At class everyday,
All the time at the lunch bay,
He’d place mold in my sandwich and say,
“You smell like farts again today.”
I tried to be nice,
To give him advice,
But he was mean anyway,
And struck back in a trice.
But, elegy this must be,
So elegy you shall see,
Rest in peace, Henry Zack,
But still, I don’t wish you back.
I wrote this last one last year:
Running down the mountains,
Rolling through the grass,
Spotting fluffy white figures,
Floating through the sky.
Daisy chains go round your neck,
Crowns of lilacs bright,
Wading cross’ the bubbling brook.
Climbing trees up high.
Sitting atop the branches,
Looking down below,
Lambs a’ running to and fro,
Happily they go!
I didn’t really like how only the last verse rhymed though. 😛
And that’s the end of the poems! Congratulations if you survived! XD
Also, did any of those poems fit the humor category? I’m trying to write a humor poem for Enni’s contest. Thank you!
chat with me!
Favorite poem? | Do you write poetry? | What is your favorite poem you’ve ever written? | Did any of the above poems fit into the category of humor? |
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