Final Reflection

1. a few things that i enjoyed doing this quater were the window poem, writing poems about make believe people with other peoples ideas in class, the i am poems and learning about how to express ourselves though writing. i enjoyed the i am peom because it was fun and easy to do. it helps us reflect on ourselves and try to describe what you see and what other people might see.
2.i have read this quater:
50 shades of grey: poorly written and very choppy in flow
cats i am poem: it was very descriptive and i thought it captured her personality very well
bradons poems: they are very creative and he seems to write in one distinct voice. i wish he would post on blogger more.
3. after setting up my blog waiting for help and fixing everything to how i wanted it i learned alot. i realised that writing can be fun and even help expand our way of thinking. i came up with a name for my blog by realising how fast time flys. even in this class. which has gone by really fast, i have realised that it does indeed become yesterday before we know it. i dont think anyone really read my blog, but that is okay. i didnt put it up here for other people i put it up here not only for a grade but for myself to see and admire. to see how much ive grown. if i could have anyone see it though id probably have my boyfriend see it. to have him realise how much i do care and how much i speak about him in my writing. i may actually use this blog in the future it is very fun to post on and to read other peoples post. perhaps ill post on it this summer talking about my trip to france.
4. for me journaling was easy. sitting down and writing what the teacher said, a piece of cake. fopr me direct assignments come easy and fast but when i have to free write. thats were i get stuck. ium not so good with drawling or writing something new. sure im creative i can give things a certain twist but i never was really good at being completely original i take things from things i watch or see. i like to twist things, blend them, melt them togewther into a new piece. you could say i like to recycle.alot of things in my journal are just tat. recycled. things i've heard or felt in the past. things i think or thought or what i believe other people are thinking. i dont think i really want anyone to read my journal. i have no desire to share it with anyone. i would like to keep journaling though i dont think ill ever find time for it. i do want to keep up with my thoughts. though i hate reading about some of the things i wrote. i feel like they were lies some how because my feelings change over time and i feel i should blend them into my current thinking which i know isnt right.
5.an entry i believe is notable is "hurt" a poem i wrote on my own;
he's angry
no one understands what he thinking
his mother cant understand his obsession

the black slick metal,solid, and sure,
reminds him,free's him,

he wants to be alone with it,
with his obsession.
he wants to be alone,
with himself.

aorund her though,
he keeps the safety button on,
never shooting his emotions,
never aiming his thoughts,

this is why he is angry,
this is why he is frustrated
this is why he misfires,
and this is why he breaks her heart.

6.She grew up on the side of the road where the wild flowers grow. her long dark hair flowed gracefully down her back and tickled the back of her legs. sun kissed her cheeks when she layed alone in the field. staring hopelessly at the never ending light blue sky. the wind wirled around her covering her with the sent of sweet grass. stains covered her baby pink dress, grounding her. this was the place she spent most of her time. trying to remember herself. to find herself. just as the sun touched the horizon giving it one last hug goodbye. she rolled over onto her stomach and closed her eyes. stretching out her arms she embrassed the ground and gave the field a hug goodnight. she rose from her spot in the field and it playfully licked her feet as she ran inside her humble farm house. she grew old here in the house by the field. she wrote here, endless romance novels and poems. she never loved here though, no man could ever replace her love for that field and open sky, no man could incase her imagination when all she ever wanted to do was fly. She would die here. under the deep never ending sky. with her glasses hanging loosly from a himp chain around her neck. her dark hair pinned up tight and falling into her face. her pink stained dress stained and tangled around her legs. with the field kissing her with ever breeze and holding her as she would leave. there she lay still and cold as the sun held her close and said goodnight. the field then took her. kept her and loved her into it. never letting her beautiful body disinigrate. they took her body and soul and named her mother. she loved the earth mor ethan the world could ever know and fell inlove that day....she walked in the field.

7.some creative writing i plan to do in the future is free write poems and fiction stories. i get alot of peace out of creative writing i find it calming just to tap on a keyboard and allow my thoughts to flow. i ten to not get distracted this way. This writing is different in the way that it doesnt need a direct outline. i dont have to write a certain way or say certain things like in a research paper. it allows me freedom and lets me think.
8.i really did enjoy reading poems from everyone i think they are one of the best ways to express yourselves and i think everyones i am poems really did the job. i think everyone in this class has great potential to write and should continue to do so. wether they try very little or try really hard in this class i think everyone has the writing ability.
9.
I love you much (Parker)
More than the moon loves the sky,
the dog loves its bone,
and the cat loves warm milk.
if you love me
hold me like a butterfly, warm and close,
kiss me, soft and sweet, like summer,
and keep me never, leave,
dream,
of me,-
----as i, dream,
of you