A Country Girl's Writing

The reflection in the water Is a false projection Of a realistic display. The water image a tad fuzzy In contrast to the original. Both are alluring In their own unique way. They make an awesome picture At the end of the day. By Evelyn Creon 

I had a blast writing about a real place with a fictional twist.  Beneath the city of New Orleans, At the mouth of the Mississippi, Lies a connection of tunnels Beneath its cobblestone streets. They are rough and rocky, Dark, damp, and scary. They run for many miles and are full of possibilities. They can lead you to the bayou, To the river, or the street. Even to the graveyards, Where the dead sleep. At night they're used by thieves, And tourists by day. The underpass, is a chilling place to stay. Snakes and rats like to play In that dirty, damp place. It's a tourist attraction, A destination for the weak. It's full of many secrets That have never seen the sun. So they will lie covered In the deepest pits of mud. Tales of hidden treasure, Concealed by robbers Who never made it out alive. Are stories for the fools. A passage way for slaves Who fled from their masters. The tunnels were a path Of liberty and freedom. Murders old as tim...

The bitter head of scorn Draped its self in thorns. To us its demeanor was like roses Enticing did they shine  Right before our eyes. Their ugliness was masked With a shiny, colorful, covering. To catch our gaze by dazzling lies Instead of truth, so bitter tasting.  By Evelyn Creon 

Cut out of edges rough A little hope, the gem was caught.  Just enough to light a spark To ignite a flame in the dark. By Evelyn Creon   

Sorry for the super late post. The weather and internet have not been in the best of shape.   In a basket Resting on the floor Lies a little baby Peacefully asleep. Warm and cozy, In sweet dreams. While snowflakes Fall outside in heaps.   B y Evelyn Creon

I peered beneath the surface A view caught my gaze, One of distant beauty That none could ever gage. It was powerful and priceless, Full of deadly and living things; Of animals and bees. The creatures all seemed calm And in perfect harmony. Maybe never seen before By a human like me. Though I knew I shouldn't I couldn't help myself, So I touched the surface with my finger. I had no fear and little doubt. With an unbearable pain I drew it back As I watched the ripple I created poison everything. The surface that I'd touched The beauty that I'd seen Slowly seemed to fade And shrivel up and die. My finger it got worse And my tears didn't help. My body began to shake uncontrollably. I tried to grasp for something But in vain there was nothing. I fell to my knees in dreadful agony And passed out from the pain. When I awoke I could barely stand. The sight I saw gave me no doubt That I was the human Who had snuffed life out. Out of a wor...

Rat-a-tat rat-a-tat bong bong. Rat-a-tat rat-a-tat bong bong. The ground began to shake  As the rhythm went on.  Rat-a-tat rat-a-tat bong bong. Rat-a-tat rat-a-tat bong bong. It sent a shiver up your spine. Adrenaline filled your mind.  Rat-a-tat rat-a-tat bong bong. Rat-a-tat rat-a-tat bong bong. Your body began to tense up, And a leg began to shake.  Rat-a-tat rat-a-tat bong bong. Rat-a-tat rat-a-tat bong bong. Your fingers began to tap  As your whole body now shook. Rat-a-tat rat-a-tat bong bong. Rat-a-tat rat-a-tat bong bong. When the finally arrived  It unexpectedly scared you.  Rat-a-tat rat-a-tat bong bong. Rat-a-tat rat-a-tat ka-boom.  An explosion the earth it shook, While you recovered from shock.   By Evelyn Creon

Passion was what pushed her Too fulfill her dreams. The love of the thing she did Made her success and fame. She really didn't want All the popularity. What she really wanted Was to brighten someone's day. By Evelyn Creon

One of the things I have always feared is the idea of losing my parents. This was a dream that I would have over and over again when I was younger.  My heart fell from his hands hitting the ground shattering into a thousand pieces. "Nnnoooo," I cried, "You dropped it! How could you do such a thing?" Tears streamed down my cheeks. I couldn't hold them back as much as I wanted to.  A grin crossed his lips as he looked at me and said hardheartedly, "Your the one that gave it to me, and so you have me the permission to do what I wanted with it. I don't care about your heart so I broke it. " The tears streamed faster down my cheeks than they had ever come before. "Does my heart mean nothing to you?"  " NO, nope, never have and never will. "  I looked up at him in disgust. His grin made me sick inside. I had trusted him with every part of me, and most importantly the memory of my parents. I couldn't look at hi...

Inspired by the idea that somewhere in the world there is somebody that plays their grandpa's old guitar.  I sat there on my bed Pluckin ' away at his guitar.  The only thing I had left From the memory of grandpa. It's a littl' old, beat up, But still it makes pretty chords that the family loves.  He used to teach me Thursday night's How to play it swell. When he died of cancer  I didn't take the death too well. Now I lose myself in memories  Of Thursday night lessons That grandpa gave to me.  By Evelyn Creon

  This is a prompt of A conversation between a girl and her mother. "How did the tea party go?" "Good!" " what did you talk about? " "well, umm.... Politics, treason, anarchy, torcher, and death. " "What? Honey, your not supposed talk about politics, torcher, death, and etc.... Usually you would talk about romance, boys, books, tea, and random gossip. " "Oh! I didn't know that. Next time I'll try to remember that. Books, boys, and tea are not ask exciting though."  "Ugh! What am I supposed to do with you?"

Fear is the uninvited visitor that comes to haunt you. It always comes in the most inconvenient times. And once its there it's very hard to make it leave.  Fear crept up the stairs  Down the hall than stopped  At my bedroom door. It knocked twice than came in And crept into my head.  By Evelyn Creon

Inspired by the memory of a cool breeze on a hot summer day.  Touched by a breath of fresh air; Leaves trembled on their branches. Touched by a breath of fresh air;  Flowers daintily waved a little.  Touched by a breath of fresh air; Grass bent ever so slightly.  Touched by a breath of fresh air; Goosebumps rose on someone's arms. Touched by a breath of fresh air; Hair wavered from where it lay. Touched by a breath of fresh air; a piece of paper crumpled a little more.  Touched by a breath of fresh air, Refreshed a hard-working brain.  Touched by a breath of fresh air Poetry was born.  By Evelyn Creon

While going through some of my old writing I came across this short piece of poetry. It was written during the big scare of the forest fires in the Columbia Gorge.  Cold feeling of regret  That pierces through ones soul.  A hole similar to being stabbed in the chest, By some enemy of the unknown. By Evelyn Creon

I could feel the tears begin to form behind my deep blue eyes. The ones I had been pushing back for so long. Tears that were built up by stress, and sleepless nights.  Shutting my eyes up tight, I tried to block the tears from coming. I knew I couldn't hold them back, not this time. "Not now, not yet, not here where everybody is watching." I muttered to myself. I scrunched up my face hoping it keep them from braking free. It was no use, they came anyways. They streamed down my cheeks, leaving a salty trail behind them. My face began to get hot, and turn a rosie pink. Embarrassment wheeled up inside me. Then out of nowhere a sob broke loose. It came up from deep within my vocal folds. "Nooo!!!" My mind screamed, "This is only making things worse. We promised not to lose ourselves in front of everybody." I could feel my cheeks become redder.  No tears were supposed to be shed today. I had promised, but here I was shedding them. "What would p...

Here we go again with another prompt. Prompt #4  "I'm free but bound, seen yet go unnoticed. Discovered but not uncovered. Unarmed yet at arms. Read  but go unread. Deadly but weak.  Hurt yet unharmed. I can explain but know nothing. I can talk yet none hear. Misunderstood and confused. The language I speak is so complex that few understand. I could say something and everyone would look at me funny. I stay quite because of the fear that I'll be misinterpreted. I put up walls no one can brake. I hide my feelings deeper that deep. Bared away so no one can get to me. Behind walls of steel and bones. Emotions unravel when no one around. I keep to myself  because of my fear. This I how I cope with life in every shape and form." He looked at me in shock. I shrugged my shoulders. What else was I supposed to do or say? I certainly wouldn't lie to him. I told him the truth because he asked. When some one asks me why I'm shy or why I don't talk as much as ...

 I had a lot of fun writing this prompt. Have fun with it. Prompt #3  The dark damp prison cell began to shake with much momentum. Rocks started falling from the walls and ceiling, along with showers of dirt and grime. At first I thought there had been some type of bomb set off near by, but the guards of the prison kept us prisoners up to date on any of the latest news. The last thing the guard had said to me last night when he brought my grub was "we'll  not be at war for 'long long time. The ol' King has made friend' with all the kingdoms near by." Then I realized that it could have been an earthquake. No though, that didn't sound right either. Earthquakes had been dormant for thousands of years. The cell began to shake more valiantly. So much so that it sent me sprawling on the dirt floor. I huddled there on the floor in a ball protecting my head from any debris that might fall. If there had been a hole I would have his in it, and if I could...

Here is a another prompt I wrote. Again you get to decide the sex of the character, and the setting that the character is in Prompt #2 Why am I hear, what is the point? What could they possibly want with me? These questions played over and over in my head. And no one could give me the answers I wanted. I have searched for them but they never have appeared, and probably never will. So here I am stuck with nothing. Not one thing to give a clue. Let alone figure out if my family is okay.  Do you know how it feels to be taken away? Ripped away from your family, and nothing you say or do will change that? I know how it feels, and deep down inside I have some how always known. That misery that leaves in your gut and the guilty feeling that you could have done something. When really there was nothing anyone could do. My brain ran wild with these types of thoughts. I had nothing better to do, or so I thought. I should not have been sulking and feeling sorry for all that had h...

I get a lot of little bits of inspiration that I turn into a story idea or a writing prompt. I have never actually thought about posting them before; but recently I thought it might be fun to try.    I am encouraging you imagine the setting in which this story takes place, and what the characters like along with their appearances.  Prompt #1 I didn’t think everyone had a chance to tell their story. Or at least I never thought I would have a chance. I guess I thought my history was not as important as everyone else. I’ve known lots of people in my time but I never would have imagined that a little boy would be the person to change my entire life. Well what was left to live that is?  People always said just wait your time will come. I heard that my whole life, from my parents, friends and many others. And I always said “Why can’t it happen now?” I never understood why it didn’t happen sooner and most likely never will. But the lesson I learned will...

As I sit here in this chair, waiting for a thought to cross my mind. I feel like I could fly across my own little made up world. When a thought comes I write it down so not to lose it with others lost before.