Jessica's creative Writing

2006-04-21T13:30:00.000-07:00

Have you ever just sat and though about your life in general? Have you ever wonder why you were ever born or when your going to die or even what going to happen after you die? I sit here and I think about all that I'm glad i'm here today and hope to be here a life time. But why was I ever born some times I wonder I must be here for a reason a reason i'll never no. I guess there so many reason why i'm here. But I do wonder whats going to happen after i'm gone will life continue with out me. Or someday will life to die off I wonder while sitting here.

2006-04-21T13:26:00.000-07:00

While driving down the road
we hit a spot just right
that was such a beutiful sight
surrounded by water
we stop where we stand
to sleep where we lye
we don't want anyone to escape
so we have our dog sit watch
he watches from here to there
one mile to one hundred miles
till we wake full of energy
then its time to hit the road

2006-03-03T18:07:00.000-08:00

To everyone great week in class. Thanks to everyone who work shopped my piece today I decided to try a different piece thats why I wrote about weather because I wanted to show that there is other poems beside love and awarness poem. So I wanted to try one different just to see how everyone reacted. Thanks again. Jessica

2006-03-03T17:56:00.000-08:00

Snow Landscape, in Glass Globe
in memory of Elizabeth Bishop
Written by: Jean Valentine
Found in the Autumn House Anthology of Contemporary American Poem Page: 372
A thumb's-length landscape: Snow, on a hill
in China. I turn the glass ball over in my hand,
and watch the snow
blow around the Chinese woman,
calm at her work,
carrying her heavy yoke
uphill, towards the distant house.
Looking out through the thick glass ball
she would see the lines of my hand,
unearthy winter trees, unmoving, behind the snow....

No more elders.
The Boston snow grays and softens
the streets where you were...
Trees older than you, alive.

The snow is over and the sky is light.
pale, pale blue distance...
Is there an east? A west? A river?

I look back in through the glass. You,
in China, I can talk to you.
The snow has settled; but it's cold
there, where you are.

What are you carrying?
For the sake of what? through such hard wind
and light.
-And you look out to me,
and you say, "Only the same as everyone; breath,
your words, move with mine,
under and over this glass; we who were born
and lived on the living earth."

In this poem I think it shows the setting at the
begining of the poem because it descibes the weather
and where about this is happening. So I think it shows
us the setting about the poem.

2006-02-10T16:35:00.000-08:00

The Weather in Northern New York

The leaves on the tree
turn so many colors
then fall in the autumn wind
to the ground
which you have to rake

The snow that falls onto the ground
that we have to shovel
can't for get the rain that freezes on
after the ice you have to scrape the window's on your car
How the winter weather changes so often

The melting of the snow
turns into mud and muck
then the rain starts to fall
water here and there
that is what we call spring

After spring the water dries
because of the hot sun
oh the humanity in the air
temperatures rise to eighty
this is the season we call summer

These are the four seasons
of North New York

2006-02-09T09:37:00.000-08:00

This is a poem that we wrote in class as a class
Beauties
sitting upon
The old black musty smeeling, fallen tree trunck was a frog
Then it got ran over by a car
I got out to make sure it was ok
She was peeing in the parking lot
Because she was walking around in the cold
looking for her lover who was missed
but was never found
that is to bad
so terribly sad
that I cried
because I was so sad
I cried all night long
all seemed wrong
yet it was still a lot of fun
but then the day was done
so I went back home
and sat alone

2006-02-03T12:58:00.000-08:00

February

First waking to the gray

of linsey-woolsey cloth

the vivid spotted dogs

the red-fox cattle and

the meeker-colored horses

flattened in snow fog

first waking into gray

flecked with common cock-

crow unfolding the sme

chilblain-bruised feet

the old shoulder ache

Mama every day

remembering how you won

the death you wished for

the death you sidled up to

remenbering how

like a child in late afternoon

drained from the jubilant sledding

you were content to coast

the run-out to a stop

booted and capped in the barn

joy enters where I haul

a hay bale by its binding string

and with my free hand pull

your easy death along.

This poem I found in The Autumn

House anthology of Contempory

America Poetry (pages 183-184)

Poeam wrote by: Maxine Kumin

I chose this poem to show image

because I open the book to this page

and though this would be a perfect poem

to post here. It shows image through out the poem

but defently at the end where it says my hand pull

free you can picture them pulling free from the bale

of hay. You can also picture this person or there mother

getting older and bones starting to ache. So that is the

image that I see in this poem.

2006-01-31T08:44:00.000-08:00

Hey All,
My name is Jessica St. Hilaire. I'm a college student and writing my Blog for my college writing intesive class so if you feel something is not right or does not sound good enough or could be better please let me know so I can change it. I hope you enjoy my piece of work in the future I just haven't wrote any yet that are ready to be posted But by the end of this week I hope to have something up. Thank you.