A Country Girl's Writing

This short story was originally a tiny tale I wrote. I added more detail to turn it into a more interesting story. Short Pollyanna Story "Pollyanna," cried her mother, "You were told you are not allowed to grab stuff out of your brother's hands." Pollyanna heard no more. She was racing up the stairs with her most prized teddy bear. Which she had just rescued from her younger brother James's little troublesome hands. Or at least that's how she looked at the situation. Her mother on the other hand saw her selfish daughter rip a teddy bear out of her younger brother's hands and leave him screaming at the top of his lungs.  “Pollyanna,” her mother yelled up the stairs, while trying to calm James down. “Get your little fanny down here right now and apologize to your brother.” Pollyanna, being not only a selfish little girl, also could be as stubborn as a mule. She called down to her mother, “I’m not going to apologize to James. He had h...

Next to me  Next to me you stand,  Wanting to hold my hand. But I deny you once or twice. You then no longer hold the dice.  By Evelyn Creon

This poem was written to help portray the beauty of fog. I have noticed that some people are afraid of fog while others are not. In my family we always love to see fog covering the ground because of the beauty that it leaves when it is gone. The fog is a ally as well as an enemy, it can hide the good and bad things in life but also bring out the beauty of life afterwords.       Sweet Repose The fog comes sweeping through the terra,  Drowning out unwanted noise. And like a blanket, the earth it covers; Hiding her a little while. Underneath the fog she sleeps; Enveloped in sweet repose. There's none can find her, none awake her; From this long awaited pause. When the sun slips through the fog And streams upon her lovely face. The earth with her blushing cheeks, awake As the world she captivates. The fog, it vanishes out of sight. But beauty, it leaves behind. She's far more glorious, to the eye Then that which she was befor...

I wrote this poem last fall and I forgot to post it. This poem is inspired by my sighting of a bear in our upper field during apple/pear season.   Fair is the bear Fair is the bear which raps on your window; Inquiring through the glass to see if you are in.   Only, scares you inside and frightens himself away. Fair is the bear which comes to your doorway, He wants to ask, if you might spare a scrap or two. But in vain he tries; only scares you, which frightens him again. Fair is the bear which comes to your orchard, To pluck little fruit. Until you come along. The bear you startle once again and his fear drives him away. And now you miss the bear which comes no-more, Neither comes he to your window, nor to your door; Refuses to enter your orchard for afraid of you is he. By Evelyn Creon  

I have just started a new writing journal, and I can't wait fill another composition book with writing.