The Climb

             I was asked to think small and write big, so that’s what I did. I was inspired by events in my own life to write this play. I was very intimidated at first. Dialogue is not generally something I enjoy, but as I started writing it all began to flow.

The Climb

     A group of three embarks on a hike up a mountain. Two of the three are adventurous and athletic, while the third member of the group is not. They leave the trail and continue blazing their own climbing up rock walls and jumping boulder to boulder. The weather is perfect and the sun shines down through the trees above. The scene starts as the group comes across their first serious rock wall.

JESSICA: Hey guys you know what, I think I'm just going to stay here. (Stops walking and looks up at the wall before them)

KATE: Nnnnooooo… Jess you’re coming with us. I'm not leaving you here. (Turns back and looks at JESSICA)

JESSICA: No really its fine, I promise. I’ll just wait right here for you guys. (Looks around for a nice boulder to sit on. Finds one that is appropriate and sits down) See this is perfect for me. You all can keep hiking up the mountain and I will just wait here. I’ll be perfectly content.

BEN: Come on Jessica, it won’t be that bad. I brought my little sister up here and she is the biggest wimp ever. If she could do it, anyone can.

JESSICA: So if your sister is a wimp, I am an even bigger one. That wasn’t a very convincing story.

BEN: But it was supposed to be…

JESSICA: Well that backfired…

KATE: Shoot, sassy Jess. He was just trying to help.

JESSICA: If he was actually trying to help he wouldn’t have brought us on this death hike. I’ve already fallen twice and slipped my feet into the creek, and that was without climbing any rock walls. If I try to go up that (Gestures toward rock wall before them) I would probably die.

BEN: Jessica, don’t be dramatic. It is really not that bad. I’ll even help you!

JESSICA: Unless you can fly me up that wall, I don’t think I'm going to make it.

BEN: That won’t be necessary, just watch me! (Walks bravely up to the rock wall. Sums up what he is about to deal with and plans his route up. He places his hand firmly in a divot in the wall and begins to pull himself up.) See Jessica, this isn’t hard at all.

JESSICA: Easy for you to say... (Rolls her eyes)

BEN: (Pulls himself up over the last bit of the wall and stands up) I made it up, so now I can help you.

JESSICA: Alright, fine I’ll try it. If I die I'm blaming all you.

BEN: (Nods) Fine by me

KATE: Fine by me too! Only cause you won’t actually die (Laughs)

JESSICA: (Walks tentatively up to the wall) so what’s first?

BEN: Well place your right hand on the wall above your head and your left hand in the hole above the little bump right there. Then step your right foot onto that stump, and your left foot onto that piece that sticks out. (Gestures towards the places)

KATE: (Starts laughing) This sounds more like a game of twister than rock climbing!

BEN: Kate, shut up! That’s not going to make her feel any better. And anyway, it works so who cares? (Continues to point to places for JESSICA)

JESSICA: I can’t believe you are making me do this! (Continues climbing until she reaches the top)

BEN: Look at you! You made it to the top! (Gives JESSICA a big hug)

KATE: I told you that you could do it!

JESSICA: I am going to be sore tomorrow…

Black out  

 

Laces

 

Laces

First comes first,

you must find a pair.

One for the right,

and one for the left.

 

Then comes the easiest part of it all,

slip one foot then two,

into the shoe.

 

Now things get tricky,

There are four straggling ends.

Two for the right

and two for the left.

 

You could leave them be,

but experience has told,

that these four snakes trip you up,

if you are to be so bold.

 

Rather it’s best to instead be neat,

and tie up these four

before you and the floor meet.

 

Each snake has a little long snake best friend,

and for each it lives on the other end.

 

At times they are left

loose and untied

forced to live separate lives.

 

When they are reunited,

one twists under real quick,

to give a tight hug,

be sure to lend a tug.

 

Doubling over in great laughter

they each form a loop,

but this time when all is said and done,

the two best friends are now one.

 

The Simple Days

The Simple Days

How I wish to go back to the simple days,

The simple days of play,

When all our worries had to do with fantasy,

And they would simply all just wash away.

 

How I wish to go back to the simple days,

When the playground was a castle,

And my bunk bed was my fort,

Guarded with loyal stuffed animals.

 

How I wish to go back to the simple days,

Hosting tea parties in the back yard,

Mr. Bear and Mr. Turtle were always on time

They were always the most courteous.

 

How I wish to go back to the simple days,

Homework was for grownups,

I never dreamed of doing it,

I rather color in rainbows. 

How I wish to go back to the simple days,

When a band aid on my scrape made my day,

It could make all the pain go away,

I would soon be good as new.

Little Blue Working Pants

              I chose to do a spin-off of “Little Red Riding Hood” but call it “Little Blue Working Pants”. I found this assignment to be easier than I had expected. Once I got started, the rest just flowed. I altered many parts of the story, but the main plot is the same. I also changed the ending.

Little Blue Working Pants

            Once upon a time, there lived a little boy. This little boy was, more often than not, called Little Blue Working Pants after a pair of sturdy pants he would always wear. He had been given these sturdy pants by his grandfather during the winter. It was now spring and not a week had passed where Little Blue Working Pants had not worn his favorite pair of pants as least five times.

            Little Blue Working Pants loved his grandfather very much and became very distressed when he heard his grandfather had fallen and broken both his leg and his arm. Now he would not be able to work in his blacksmith shop until they had both healed. Determined to help his grandfather, Little Blue Working Pants pulled on his sturdy jeans and announced he was going to his grandfather’s house in the woods to work in his shop until he was healed.

            Now, as Little Blue Working Pants headed off to the woods he mother told him to be weary. “There are many dangerous things that live in the forest between here and grandfather’s house,“ she said. Little Blue Working Pants simply responded, “I know.” He had grown accustom to his mother’s needless worrying. It seemed that according to his mother, there were many “dangerous things” everywhere. There was no sense in worrying since he had never encountered such things in his little adventures. So, as careless as a butterfly, he ventured off into the woods.

            Not long after he had set off, Little Blue Working Pants came across Bear. Now Bear is one who would fall into Little Blue Working Pants mother’s definition of a “dangerous thing.” However, when she had mentioned Bear, Little Blue Working Pants had not been listening. He had turned her out like a droning hammer.

            When Bear saw Little Blue Working Pants strutting through the forest one thing popped into his mind, lunch. When he jumped out of forest onto the path which Little Blue Working Pants was walking on, he was slightly confused when he did not try to flee. “Little Blue Working Pants, why are you not afraid of me?” Bear dared to ask. Little Blue Working Pants responded, “Why would I be afraid of an oversized teddy bear? I’ve wanted one like you for years! All I really want to do is give you a hug.” With this, the Bear realized that he would not have to catch his own lunch, lunch was being served today.

            Little Blue Working Pants was a talkative fellow and did not stop there. He continued, “Teddy Bear, you should accompany me to my grandfather’s house. I want to show him my great Teddy Bear. He doesn’t live too far away, just over the bridge by the swimming creek.” This Bear could not refuse. Two for one? Why not.

            Bear quickly hatched his plan to have lunch and dessert. He asked Little Blue Working Pants, “Why walk together when we can make a game out of this? Here, I’ll race you to grandfather’s house.” Little Blue Working Pants could not refuse such a game. Ready. Set. Go. They were off.

            It was not even close to a close race. While Little Blue Working Pants was a hard worker, he was a slow runner. Bear arrived at grandfather’s house and knocked on the door. Grandfather responded from within, “Who is it?” Quick on his toes, Bear responded in his best little boy voice, “It’s me, Little Blue Working Pants.”

            Now Grandfather had lived a good plenty of years, and was not one to be deceived. Unlike Little Blue Working Pants, Grandfather was wise. Try as Bear might, Grandfather knew this was no voice of a little boy. He cautiously peered out the window by the door and saw Bear standing by the door. Instead of opening the door, he promptly retrieved his rifle from its hiding place behind the bed and took aim by the window. Outside, Bear could hear much shuffling and clumsy movement, but he did not suspect a thing. When the shot went off, he was nearly dumbfounded.

            As Bear hit the ground, Little Blue Working Pants made it to his Grandfather’s house. Tears emerged from his naïve eyes as he saw the life leave his giant Teddy Bear.  “Grandfather what have you done?” he cried. Ignorant of the danger he had put them both in, Grandfather sat Little Blue Working Pants down on his uninjured lap and explained the dangers of the forest. This time, Little Blue Working Pants listened.

 

 

The Fork Speaks

             The day I wrote this poem, I happened to write two poems about a fork. I found this odd cause a fork is such a random object, but I figured one of the two poems should land on here. I tried to put my self in the shoes of a fork and tried to imagine what it must be like. Actions we think of as normal, can actual be quite weird from a different view point.

The Fork Speaks

I have a gentle soul,

And a strong core,

But all any ones tend to see me as,

Is forceful.

 

My neighbors are simply dipped,

Or even scooped,

But me?

I am made to violently stab.

 

My crown I wear,

I wear it with pride,

But it hurts when I am the only one,

To properly appreciate its beauty.

 

I have no say,

On the adventures I go,

I am just picked up,

And expected to be ready for anything.

 

After I'm used,

I go for a swim,

With the bubbles,

And suds.

Thirteen Ways of Looking at a Cloud

                This is a poem I cannot take full credit for. My classmates and I collaborated to create this poem. We were imitating the style of a poem called “Thirteen Ways of Looking at a Blackbird” as we passed this paper around the class to create a poem. I don’t really enjoy this style of writing and found the original poem quite odd. I didn’t understand the point.

 

Thirteen Ways of Looking at a Cloud

 

With the birds in the sky

Between the earth and the sun

Rest the clouds

 

Webs of dreams appear

Illuminating the desires of many

They sat there in the sky waiting to

Dissolve if and when they came true

They were as light as the clouds

 

The cloud clears its throat

And clearly dictates his monologue of nature

The rain crashes down

And the wind applauds the wonderful performance

 

First, I see a sailboat

But then I see a fish

I love how they change so beautifully

Clouds shifting is pure bliss

 

Laying my head in the soft grass

I watched as clouds pass me by

Before long the sun is gone

And my day is done

Clouds have covered the light

With looming shapes

The sun is gone

And the world is dark

 

The clouds

Miraculously open up

Shrouding him in a

Burst of sunshine

Lending a momentary

Halo of light

 

The peaceful melodies woven against the sky

Thin wisps rise and fall as the

Wind weaves a soft tune through the clouds

 

The cloud only slightly

Mimicked your face

Which made me shed a

Single tear

Which then another cloud mimicked

 

At the sight of Zeus

Flying across the clouds

Even the smallest object

Would bow to its feet

 

As Jack climbed the bean

It grew and it grew

Until the very tip passed through the clouds

 

With the clouds covering the sun

The ground hog came out

Not a shadow in sight

 

I looked up in the sky

Wondering when the cloud shaped like a bee

Would make its way around the world

And finally back to me.

 

Why am I not a Poet?

                It is quite clear that I was not in the mood for writing the day I wrote this poem. I was quite brutally honest with myself. Looking back I find it quite funny. Maybe not one of my best poems, but I think it shows a different side of me. This was my original conversation poem.

Why am I not a Poet?

I asked why
Am I not a poet
And my mother said
Dear, you are not creative
 
I asked why
Am I not a poet
And my father said
Honey, words allude you
 
I asked why
Am I not a poet
And my sister said
Silly, you can not write well
 
I asked why
Am I not a poet
And my brother said
Dude, you are just too boring
 
I asked why
Am I not a poet
And I said
Why not?

You Only Get Out What You Put In

        After years of sports, this is the phrase that will stick with me forever. This is maybe the single most important thing I have learned from participating on my various sports teams. I am a big fan of repitition and was sure to use it in this piece. I feel like it really sends the messge home. Maybe this phrase can inspire you as it has inspired me.

You Only Get Out What You Put In

           “You only get out what you put in.” As I rested on the wall for a mere ten seconds during a set of sprints at the end of a grueling swim practice, my faithful coach offered a few words of encouragement. Right before I sunk back under the water, his words slip into my ear and etched themselves into my mind. I was unaware of their potential to affect the way I lived the rest of my life.

                “You only get out what you put in.” Every practice, every game, every meet, this is what I tell myself. I cannot expect to be simply be given a reward, I must work for it. Just because I dove into the pool when the buzzer went off, does not mean I will win the race. Just because I am standing on the field when my team is at play, does not mean I will win the game. It takes more than just going through the motions to be successful. I must actively engage not only my body, but also my mind when I compete. 

            “You only get out what you put in.” Although my initial introduction to this phrase was through athletics, I learned that it could also be applied to other areas of my life. One day as I sat in class during an endless lecture, it dawned on me that I was no longer absorbing the information being given. I had forgotten what I had told myself so many times before. Similar to athletic success, knowledge would not simply be handed to me. I had to take it. It was up to me.

            “You only get out what you put in.” Whether it is time, effort, or focus, the more you give to a cause, the more you will get out of it. As I pushed off the wall to continue the set, I began repeating the words to myself. Through the rest of the set, these words were set on repeat. Every time thoughts of giving up crept into my mind, I quickly pushed them away. I now had the eight words that would help me push myself to become the person I wanted to be.

This I Believe

          This started out as a “This I Believe” essay. I then condensed it down to what is published below. When I was first asked what I believe, I could not come up with anything. But the more I thought, the more I realized that I actually did. I believe that everything will be fine in the end. I was also able to use this belief in my six word assignment also posted below. These are words I live by. I constantly say this to my friends and many of them don’t understand. This is simply me trying to explain what I believe.

            This I Believe

        Some people believe in tooth fairies and Santa Claus. Others believe in ponies and unicorns. Whatever you choose believe, I believe that everything will be fine in the end. Simply put, if it is not fine, it is not the end. However things are right now, at this very moment, are not how they have to stay. All the things we dislike in the world around us can, and will, one day change.

            When changes take place, they may not always immediately seem to be for the better, but it is these changes that make up the story of our lives. I have faced times of adversity in my life. Times when I felt my injury had destroyed everything I loved. Not only did I have to realize that most aspects of our lives are temporary, but also that everything would be fine in the end.

            Life always has a way of working out and making everything fine. The experience taught me a great deal about myself and my capabilities. It’s a simple concept, however hard to believe at times. Being fine does not mean it is perfect. Being fine does not mean it is wrong. Being fine means it is fine.

So where is Waldo, really?

            So where’s Waldo really? I wish I knew. This was the prompt I was given with no further instructions on a college application. I was immediately intrigued and excited. It took me a long time to decide what route I wanted to take when I approached this prompt. There were so many variations and possibilities I had a very hard time. The worst part was that there is no wrong answer.

So where is Waldo, really?

            Where’s Waldo? Well, on page two he can be found in the top left corner behind the grinning clown and next to the elephant flaunting a pink tutu.  Then again on the next page, you can find him dead center between the boy building a sand castle and the woman tanning on her red towel. Simple as that. But where’s Waldo, really? That’s a little more complicated. I believe the correct question would be: where isn’t Waldo?

            Throughout our lives, similar to how we seek Waldo, we seek happiness. On every page, if we take a minute to slow down, we can easily find Waldo. He is everywhere. The difficulty comes in recognizing when we stumble upon him. As we scan the page, we see all the things that are not Waldo. Our tendency to focus on the negative aspects of life causes our failure to recognize the happiness that is all around us.

            What is most often overlooked is the happiness we already possess. We have each embarked on this endless journey to find Waldo. Then, once we have found him, we feel compelled to turn the page only to lose him all over again. And so the cycle goes. Why do we do this to ourselves? We engage in a battle that has no end. A battle that cannot be won. Yet, we continue to turn the page.  The only logical explanation for this is that the satisfaction of finally finding Waldo is worth the struggle.

            As we live our lives in the pursuit of happiness, we live our lives in the pursuit of Waldo.  However, the pursuit must be slowed so that we can enjoy the happiness which we have already acquired. Beneath the gorilla swinging on a vine and next to the panther, you will find Waldo. You will also find him in a smile. Waldo is everywhere.    

           

           

           

 

 

Rain

                   Originally, I wrote this piece as my Vignette. I ended up with a very distinct memory of this occurring so I was able to add imagery and description. I wanted to lead the reader through the memory of watching and walking in the rain with me. I didn’t simply want to show or tell the reader, I wanted them to experience it with me.

Rain

                Pitter patter. Pitter patter. Drip. Drip. Drip. I woke to the sound of the rain bouncing off the roof above my head. With the covers pulled tightly under my chin, I lay cuddled in my bed. As each drop hit, I would try to imagine the journey it had taken when it had been dropped from the clouds to free fall to the earth below. I would dream up stories of where it had come from and where it would go from here. Would it stream through the gutters and flow into the creek where a thirsty deer will one day drink. Or would take a path that would one day lead it to the ocean where the dolphins swim. Story after story, I would dream to the sound of the rain the roof.

                After some time, my imagination ran dry. It yearned not only to hear the rain but see it too. I pulled the covers back and felt the chill of the morning on my skin as I crept to my blinds. When pulled back the white curtain that barred my way, the pitter patter of the rain came to life before my eyes. I sat and watched the raindrops roll like unwiped tears down, down, down my window. I wondered if the clouds were crying tears of joy or tears of sadness. Regardless, they continued to fall. The wind would howl through the trees bending branches and sending bullets of rain through the air. I could watch for hours and never get tired, yet the sound of the rain was still my favorite.

                 I yearned to hear the whispers of the rain. The real rain. I pulled on a pair water resistant sweat pants and my sister’s red rain boots. After a bit of searching through the overstuffed coat closet, I found my blue rain coat and pink umbrella. “I'm going to go walk in the rain,” I called as I stepped out the door. On the front step I took a deep breathe, there is something fresh about the air as it rains. I filled my lungs to the brim and slowly exhaled as I took my first step into the rain. The rain was no longer simply falling, it was dancing all around me. It danced to its own music that it created as it hit the ground. Pitter patter. Pitter patter. Drip. Drip. Drip.

I Run

                This was one of the first poems I wrote this year. We were ech given a picture and asked to write a poem inspired by it. My picture was balck and white and showed a figure running in the tall grass. In the far distance there is was a tree. I took the visual of the figure running and ran with it. Pun intended. I could relate to the poem myself as I had been trying to get back into shape for soccer months before by going on runs.  I enjoy running, walking is just too slow.

I Run

When I turn and run towards the stars,

I run from my fears,             

I run from my scars.

 

I run until my breathe comes as gasps,

My muscles burn hot,

My knees collapse.

 

I run to feel the wind in my hair,

The earth beneath my feet,

The sun soaked in the air.

 

I run when I have a space to be free,

A sky soaring high,

A reason to be.

 

I run through every passing season,

Every field of grass,

Every doubtful reason.

 

When I turn and run towards the stars,

I run to my dreams,

I run to mars.

Broken Heart

          In class we read a couple poems which personified emotions and were then asked to do the same. I really liked this assignment and felt like you could stir up a lot of feelings in the poem. Giving life to something which is usually not considered alive was intriguing. It’s not generally something I ponder and caused me to think in a new and different way

Broken Heart

One day Heart was walking along a pathway in the park
Under the trees she stumbled upon Love
Together they strolled day in and day out
Until one day Heart woke to find that Love had been replaced by Hate
Hate had snuck up in the middle of the night
When no one was looking it took a hammer to Love
Heart was now broken, shattered into a million pieces with no glue in sight
With no Love to mend her aching wounds, she would forever lay numb on the cold frozen ground
Despair was now the only one to knock on her door
Where had Beauty gone?
The world and all its light seemed covered in gloom
Without Love, Heart was left to be damaged and broken
Nothing could stop the staining tears streaking down Broken Heart.

 

Whispers

        This started out as a conversation poem. I don’t really enjoy writing dialog so I kept it nice and short. Towards the end of the poetry unit I found that I had two poems that were quite similar. I combined my favorite components of this poem and the other poem to create what I have below. I feel this is a very typical romantic teenage girl poem, but I have to admit I like it. What can I say, I'm a softy at heart.

Whispers

As they sat side by side

The setting suns colors danced across her face

She looked down at her hands

And whispered you are not one I can replace

 

Her whisper broke the silence

Which his mind had filled with thoughts

But her words could not break through

His heart with its knots

 

He snuck a peak at the girl

Who was sitting by his side

It was obvious she was at war with the tears

That always come with goodbye

 

With that his aching heart shattered

Into a million pieces of every shape

And soon he too whispered back

You I could not wish escape.

Split

           I wrote this piece as one of my two time poems. I stretched it out to be longer when I first wrote it, but felt it was naturally a shorter poem. When I later edited this poem I cut out the extra lines to what is left now. I had fun writing with the short rhymed couplets. I felt this poem was very clean and structured which I liked that about it.

Split

I do not know the right way to go,

But the road splits hence it must be so,

 

I have followed my feet to this spot,

But it is right here which I have been caught,

 

I felt a comfort under this sky,

But it was just infinitely high,

 

I saw the wind rushing through the grass,

But my heart knew the moment would pass,

 

I must keep on following my feet,

But one day the time will come to meet.

 

it’ll be fine in the END.

it’ll be fine in the END.

     

        I was asked to sum up my life in just six words. The six words I picked are six words that I am constantly repeating to myself. I believe that everything will be fine in the end. If it isn't fine, then it isn't the end. It's is something that motivates me to keep going in almost every aspect of my life.

Touchdown Jones

     I wrote this story for a little first grade boy who loved football. I later turned it into a picture book. Not only does he love football, but he loves the Forty Niners. It was adorable when he explained to me how bummed he was that his mom wouldn’t let him play until he was in fourth grade. I would love to know one day if he followed his dreams to be a football star at Cal.

Touchdown Jones

                Today was the day. The day they had all been waiting for. The day of the big game. Families gathered around the TV as other fans filed into the stadium. No one would dare miss such an important game, especially not Will.

                Will loved football and he loved the Forty Niners.

                A couple hours before kickoff, Will’s father came home from work and said, “Will, I have a surprise for you. Go look under your bunk bed, you might find something that wasn’t there before.”

                With that, Will scurried off to his blue room to see what surprise was hidden under his bunk bed. Just like his father had said, there was a box wrapped in blue and green striped wrapping paper waiting for him.

                By now, Will’s younger siblings, Emily and Drew, had gathered around to see what all the excitement was about. Without much delay, Will was tugging at the wrapping paper and tearing open the box to find a Forty Niners jersey inside. Jumping up and down with excitement Will exclaimed, “I love it! I love it!”

                With his new red jersey on, Will was officially ready to watch the game. But when he finally turned on the TV, he was struck with horror.

                The Forty Niners star wide receiver had just tripped on the stairs leading into the stadium during warm ups and broken his leg. He was not going to be able to play.

                The only one who could replace him was the remarkable Will Phillip Jones. He was smaller and younger, but he had what it took.

                With only an hour left until the game, a helicopter was sent to pick Will up from his house. As the propeller winds blew the leaves from the trees, Will climbed aboard and was taken to the field.

                The helicopter landed in the middle of the field, and Will stepped out onto the green turf of the field. The crowd stood in silence for a moment as they realized their hero had arrived. 

                There was little time to spare before the game would begin, so the coach helped Will warm up a little and get to know the rest of the team. Soon enough, the first whistle of the game was blown and they were off.

                It was a tight nail biting game. Both teams made great runs and were playing with all their heart. One individual stood out, and that was Will. He was making plays all over the field getting first down conversions one after another. But time was running out.

                It was a tie game 35-35 and there was ten seconds left on the clock. Will and the Forty Niners had time for just one more play. They had one more chance to win the game. The ball was hiked and then thrown; the only one who could catch it was Will.

               The ball went soaring through the air. The crowd held its breath as Will sprinted down the field with outstretched arms. This was it. This was the play that would determine the game. This was the play that could change everything. All Will had to do was catch the ball. He was ready.

                After what seemed like an eternity, the football landed straight in his arms. TOUCHDOWN! The referees raised both arms straight up and blew their whistles. The crowd went wild.

                With not a moment to spare, Will had saved the day and the Forty Niners had won. His team mates rushed down the field to congratulate him. “We couldn’t have done it without you, Will!” they all cheered.

                                                The End