I actually wrote these as emulations of Walt Whitman and Emily Dickinson for AP English, but I was so proud of them I decided to post them.

A Writer's Soul

A writer's soul is one of depth, one of vast expanse,
A soul of richness, absorbing the very world around it,
transforming sunlight into song,
A soul of yearning, rushing to learn every story, every lesson,
rushing to learn nature's pattern for life,
A soul of passion, displaying a fury to challenge that of hell, and
the next hour, professing its undying love to another,
A soul of desire, it lusts for life, knowledge, riches, and beauty,
A soul of tenderness, treating those precious, melodious
phrases as the wings of a butterfly,
A writer's soul is one that can never be mearsured for what it is,
but for what it will be,
For a writer's soul never truly rests, but takes each day as an
inspiration with a world of possibilities.

Before you go-- take my heart

Before you go-- take my heart--
It is of no need to me--
Why do I need a heart--
If none be possible to use?

If you go-- my heart is futile--
If love-- ne'er to return--
I need no heart to keep it--
Take it a token-- of regret.

Due to my apparant absence as of late, I've dropped in status from a Flippery Fish to a Multicellular Microorganism. How disappointing. . . I guess I'll just have to build back up into the vertibrae line.
I finally got to do some Christmas shopping the yesterday after Dad took my siblings and I out to dinner. I still have a bit more to do, but I'll get it done eventually. Sigh. . . School gets out tomorrow! I'm so happy. I'm looking forward to the break so much. Christmas Eve, we're going to go see The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe. Then Christmas Day, Dad is coming down to pick Heather, Nathan, and I to go to Wichita.
Ahh. . . the smell of dinner is tempting me to drift off into the kitchen. Mmm. . . I think I'll have to go see what's cooking in there. Au revior pour maitnent!

Laurl/en