Friends In The Forest – Sat Oct 10
As I sit in the forest, breezes silently giggle and play with my hair. They try to pull me up to play with them, but I tell them I’d prefer to sit and watch them...
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As I sit in the forest, breezes silently giggle and play with my hair. They try to pull me up to play with them, but I tell them I’d prefer to sit and watch them instead. “Your loss!” I can hear them quip. The winds continue to dance and laugh and play pranks. They wake up the soft grasses and bright flowers at my feet. Now, they are all tickling me.
Wrath of the Wind A wide strip of gushing water wound onwards through the patch of trees. Rain pattered aggressively against the umbrella of emerald leaves as angry clouds scoured deviously for a crack to send droplets creeping in through. A gust of bitter wind whipped the barren ground, reaching out a greedy hand only to sweep up any shrivelled leaves abandoned by their fathers.
This piece was based off of the song “Lily” by Alan Walker.
Lily stared out her bedroom window at the gaping mouth of trees and clouds, glowing in the setting sun. It was big. And scary. But it called to her. The voice of nature ringing out through her ears, inaudible to everyone else. Her parents were asleep. Everyone in the household was. She needed to see it so badly.
So here I sit, idle in front of the profound execution of justice unfolding my before eyes, and I am stupefied. I’ve survived the journey to this place, and it took miles of suffering and doubt, yet here I am now, and all of my power has been whisked away. I’m nothing more than an onlooker—a stroke of the brush without thought, a ray of the sun left un-noted in the desert.
The roses red danced in the wind, swaying silently, The daffodils yellow and white, moving to and fro. The pines and hazels talk among themselves, though somehow noiselessly, Their fallen leaves being blown around, wondering where to go.
The squirrels chitter and chatter, and bluebirds chirp together, The flowing water babbling, speaking to the grass, The worms digging on the dirt looking for a ho...
The Hike It was the happy day! The happiest day of my life! My parents and I were finally going on a hike! As, I put my best clothes on ,packed up and headed to the car. When arrived to the pace we were going to hike, I got down from the car, and stop on the gooey mud. Ewwww! The mud was sticky like glue and thick like syrup.
An update from our twenty-third Writing Workshop!
A summary of the workshop held on Saturday October 3, plus some of the output published below
This week, Stone Soup team member Jane Levi led a discussion about objects and their important role in building stories.
Spring-20
Patrycja Wanat, 13
Kite tails should be in the sky,
Bees are flying by.
Spring has arrived!
Everyone should be bright,
But not this year,
Because we're all filled with fear
From COVID-19,
We are waiting for a vaccine.
Somehow we have to cope,
And we can only have hope,
That this coronavirus will go away.
Write a poem that can be read both from top to bottom, and bottom to top.
October 3rd Objects in Writing: The Pearl Earrings by Lena A. The house was empty, beds stripped of their linens, closet shelves bare. But in the midst of this desolate place, there was a pair of pearl earrings sitting on the windowsill. Mere pinpricks against a large expanse of rotting wood. It was very easy to miss them, if you were not looking carefully.