A Country Girl's Writing

This year is almost over Twelve hours left to the dot.  Once the clock strikes midnight  A New Year will have begun.  What the New Year holds  We do not know, But it's the beginning of a new decade  So, let's ride it out, it might be fun!  The past year had been a joy, A curse, a nightmare, and a blessing.  It was filled with tears, love and happiness.  Memories made have been engraved.  This year is almost over, Twelve hours to the dot.  Once the clock strikes midnight  A New Year will have begun.  By Evelyn Creon 

Enjoy Christmas!!! And see you all next week.

On an old family farm, just outside a quaint little town, lived a well-to-do farmer and his family. The farm had been started by the farmers great grand-father Abbott Varroclaudious, and was known to the town as the Avarro Farm. Every night when the farmer tucked his children into bed, he would tell them the story of Abbott and how he saved the Avarro family farm.  The story went something like this: When Abbott was sixty-five he became impaired with a life threatening sickness. He went to many doctors, all of whom announced there was no cure for his sickness. As Abbott's health began to quickly decline, he became bedridden. This caused him to become terribly worried that his sons, Finnan and Marwine, who were greedy, selfish, and lazy would sell the farm after his death, which would leave their tender-hearted mother to fend for herself. Because Abbott was so utterly distressed at the notion of leaving his farm to his sons, he came up with a plan.  One spri...

Can we cry  Over our past mistakes?  Will they understand  The regret that we face?  How it haunts us day and night  Never giving us sleep? Can they understand  What causes us to weep? Will they love us  When we tell them our secrets? By Evelyn Creon

With a sweet laugh, A shining smile, And dancing eyes. You, can kick-start Someone's morning With a hint of golden SUNSHINE. By Evelyn Creon

I felt entrapped By my captors gaze. It held my heart With deathly rage. I tried to look away, his eyes they stared Straight through me. I felt an aching pain. I began to tremble, As my confidence Quickly vanished, While he starred at me. What he saw, I understood not. The sight before his eyes Was a wretched mess. Make-up smeared face, Rats and mangled hair, Clothes torn to shreds, And eyes full of tears. I felt entrapped By my captors gaze. It held my heart With deathly rage By Evelyn Creon 

Writing prompt: Retell in your words the first  paragraph in chapter one, in "Alice in Wonderland" writen by Lewis Caroll. Below is my retelling. Alice put her slobbery finger into her sister's ear. "Alice! Gross! What did you do that for?" Her sister exclaimed crossley, as she dropped her book and stood up quickly. Alice shrugged delightfully, "I'm bored of sittin' here while you read, doin' nothin'." Her sister, who gave her a murderous stare, picked up her book and sat back down violently. "Don't do that again or you'll get somethin' worse than a wet-willy." Alice smirked because her sister's threat was an empty one. While Alice sat pondering whether or not to give her sister another wet-willy, a white rabbit sped past her. Shocked at the sight of the rabbit and burning with curiosity she hastened after it. "I'm late! I'm late! For a very important date!" the rabbit who c...

This past Sunday I got to spend the day with some friends, and we took a trip to White River Falls in Oregon. It was sixty degrees and beautiful.  Columbia river  Columbia river  White river trail head  Old machinery  One of the falls  Sunset  Down river  An old building we probably shouldn't have been in. 

I've been watching how you act Around the young man. You like him I can tell, And I'm a little mad. I've been watching you two, You're slowly slipping away. I don't want you to go, You are my best friend. In this life I understand. So, though I don't want to lose you I'll let you fly away. By Evelyn Creon 

In the basement of that house  There was a hidden door.  Town legend said,  "It stood behind a wall  Waiting to be fed." The only thing the door enjoyed  Was families tucked in bed.  So, to protect the families,     A battered ol' rat was the keeper Of the dreadful friend.  In 1956 a family killed the rat.  Unbeknownst to them  The door was now free,  And inpatient to be fed.  At night while the family slept  Peacefully in their beds.  The door broke through the wall  And traveled to their beds.  In the morning nothing was left  The entire family was gone.  No one ever heard their screams,  As they were torn to shreds.  The door and the family  Were never ever seen again.  By Evelyn Creon

I saw a shadow on the stairs, While I was minding my own affairs. It was dragging a bulky object, So to the stairs I slowly inched, Full of fascination as I cringed. My footsteps did not reflect. I saw a lifeless corpse  I looked upon it in shock, As my heart began to course,  And a rotting smell rose from its frock. I only then did realize   That the body was of me.   With blood d ripping from my lips, I lied there dead and rotting. The sight was abhorring. My death, from a broken neck. By Evelyn Creon

The head of a child Sunk beneath the waters,  Of Black Death lake. Its hollow eyes  Had stared me in the face. Its pale skin terrified me.  The ghost child disappeared As quietly as it came.  Leaving me with  a sinking feeling  Like a draining drain.  I began to row ashore  When it appeared again  This time with some friends.  They all wore a grin  That was full of devilry.  My throat went dry  When I saw them.  I feared for what they planned. The children came up close As if to say hello,  But rather they took the boat  And flipped upside down.  All I remember while I sunk,  In the dark water Was the warning I'd been given  At twelve O'clock,  "Don't go out today  You will get a fright."    I heeded not the warning,  Now it serves me right. By Evelyn Creon

The ol' tree on the hill Is a freeky place to be. It creeks with no wind And you hear the rustle of its leaves. Yet, it has none you can see. At night around dusk Screeching sounds fill the air. The town below the hill Believe the tree is haunted. So they have forbade all To climb the hill they call, Dread. The people who disobey Are never ever seen. The legend says if you see the ghost It will never let you leave. By Evelyn Creon 

   Good morning to all, and welcome to the month of October. I am super excited to start this new month with my newest dark poem "The Nuckelavee" the first dark poem in a four poem series this month.    For those of you that are not familiar with this mythological creature it is a horrendous sea demon that is categorized under Orcadian mythology which combines human and equine elements together. It is one of the worst demons known in Norse mythology, because of the terrors that it caused in Scotland's Northern Isles. The Nuckelavee One October morning When the sun was beginning to rise.  The smell of burning seaweed  Filled the foggy skies. Out of the fog a creature emerged  Embellished with hideousness.  It was a skinless, hairless,  Horse fused rider beast.   You could see ebony blood  Coursing through its veins,  And sinewy muscles straining  with each movement in pain.  ...

The women of the sea Are all of different colors. They are adorned with beauty Like none other. They sing and dance With their tails that sparkle in the sun. As they search for lost souls Fated to the sea. They bury each one found Beneath the ocean floor. After they adorn the bodies With the beauties of the sea. To every soul they bury They sing the same ol' song, "Sweet death, my darlin' sailor Your sail is over, done. You shall forever rest in peace Until the judgement comes. Sweet death, my darlin' sailor." By Evelyn Creon

The Jaws of life are before me, And lips of the past behind. I struggle to find  even ground With out loosing my way of life. Am I ready for the transition Of the real life intervention In my teenager imagination? By Evelyn Creon 

Black never caught my eye,  The dark color disgusted me In all ways, shape and form.  Yet, somehow it crept Into my colorful mind.  All dressed in white  It filled me with depression. Just this one color, Black.  Could easily ruin my entire life.  It made me feel cold, evil, and rude.  It had no heart, it was dull and crude.  I don't know how it got there,  And I didn't want it to stay.  So, I did my best to scare it from my brain.  After much pain, I found success.  I drove it from my body,  And oh, what freedom I did gain. By Evelyn Creon  

The pen smoothly moved  Across the paper's surface,  The line it drew was smooth And full of soft curves Moving into delicate letters,  Full of enticing strands.  Strands that went in all directions  Composed by vibrant colors.  Colors that pulled you in  And kept you engrossed in them.  The alluring word Limerence,  It was calligraphed with a touch  Of color flowing through it, Onto a white canvas. By Evelyn Creon

I miss her fur, eyes, black tongue, and ears. Her whimper, bark, laugh, and tears. I miss her joy, grief, and sadness. Her anger, fear, love, and madness. I miss the days when we would play, Take walks, and tell her my frustrations once a day. I miss her name rolling off my tongues tip. Her company, and companionship I loved my dog and I'm not afraid to say, That I miss her every single day. By Evelyn Creon

Rolling down a grassy knoll I feel the world spinning. I pick up speed as I roll. Soft grass hitting my face Filling my nose with the fragrance Of grass, earth, and summer. The carefreeness in that moment Felt absolutely incredible. I slowly came to a stop. Lying there looking at the sky So blue, with fluffy white clouds Floating across it. I forgot all the pain and hurt I had been dragging me around.  By Evelyn Creon 

I watched it appear  It was a strange sight indeed.  The hand print on the window pane. It was there one minute  Then gone the next.  It scared me to pieces.  I had been knitting in my rocker Just minding my own business. When out of the blue  There was a tapping  On the window pane.  At first I paid no attention,  But it didn't seem to stop. When I finally looked up  I jumped a little from shock.  I could very clearly see it,  The shape of a hand print On my frost covered window. I looked down at my knitting  Then looked again at the window.  But there was no hand print on the pane.  I must have imagined it, I thought.  Though I am sure I did not.   By Evelyn Creon 

From the corner my eye I could see the lullaby. It was the one grandma sung Before she up and died. Its tune was whimsical and soft And floated through the air.  Bounced of the bedroom walls And swept down the stairs. The part that I loved the most  Was when the girl could fly.  When she sung that line  I would drift into a sleepy sky.  Now I hold onto the memories Of the nights when she would shine As she sung my sweet lullaby. I wish she could sing it one last time. By Evelyn Creon

A single leaf Tossed in the wind. Floating this way and that.  Gravity pulled it down  Towards the earth, While the wind helped Ease the downward fall.  Like a leaf we start on a tree And as we grow Life takes hold of us.  Braking us free from the tree, Helping us to move forward in life.  As we float back and forth  We accomplish great things.  All the while gravity of death  Pulls us downward.  When we reach the ground Our life will be finished.  Wither it is full of accomplishments Or not is up to us.  We only have limited time before we are nothing  but dust of the ground. By Evelyn Creon