This story has a ring of sincerity and unguarded sadness attached to it that caused me to think you must have written this from the heart. If so, I admire your candor. I believe kindness and the loving support of friends and family make all the difference when those black clouds hang over you for what may feel like an eternity.
With the passing of time, your spirits will lift. And, your heart will glow with happiness when you find the right man, someone who will love you just as you are. As for this man who stole your heart and broke it into little pieces when he decided he didn't want it anymore, I hope you appreciate, nothing good ever comes from the many ways your ex-husband was cruel and demeaning. The best thing you can do for you is to stop thinking about this man. As long as you find it hard to fight off the memory of his cruelty and demeaning remarks, you're validating his messages. When you make up your mind to begin again with a clean slate while grabbing what is healing and positive, you'll begin to feel better, and you'll be glad he is gone from your life.
Do you think this piece is more like
an allegory or an anthology ? An anthology is
a published collection of poems or other pieces of writing.
An allegory can be described as a parable,
a moral story, a fable, analogy, or metaphor.
I think allegory is a much better
match with this wonderful tale.
Before we proceed, I suggest you
break this solid block of writing, that can be
discouraging for enthusiastic readers to tackle,
into several paragraphs. You'll find this wonderful
piece will attract attention once you take a few minutes
to break this block into several paragraphs.
Be sure to create space between the paragraphs.
Your readers need to take a breath now and then.
Make a few Easy Repairs:
Where you say: "her lips perfectly red"
try: her lips were perfectly red.
Where you say: "she brought upon despair"
try eliminating: "upon."
Where you say: "once she fell in love with
a charming young man, eliminate "once"
Where you say: "anyones mood,
replace with: anyone's mood
Where you say: "Who grew into.."
write: She grew into...
Where you say: "Her light amber eyes
changed to a scotch color and told Despair"
End the sentence after "color" and
start a new sentence with She told Despair
she understood.
Where you say: "where humans took her in
gladfully and Hope had given human life"
Instead, say: where humans took her in
happily. Begin the next sentence
with: Hope gave human life .....
This is a wonderful piece, Anthurnherr !
It is beautiful, tender, and loving.
I read it and reread it. Each time, I fell in love
with it all over again. Make these few repairs,
and shift your description from Anthology to
Allegory. I know you will receive much
deserved praise for the beauty
and elegance of this story.
JoJo tells us his mother "was born on February 1, 1935 in the province of Leyte in the Philippines. She grew up in a poor and patriarchal family. Ignorance and poverty were the prevalent mode in their small community.
Since the Philippines were colonized by the Spaniards for more than three hundred years, Jojo's mother grew up in a devout Catholic family. Farming was the life-blood of the average family. According to his mother "though they were poor, they lived a happy life, until the war came."
The Philipines during the World War II
JoJo tells us in 1940, "while Nazi Germany under Adolf Hitler was ravaging Europe, the Japanese Imperial Army was moving fast towards East Asia region; conquering territories after territory. The Philippines was not spared in the war because aside from the fact that the Philippines were an American allied, it is at the same time part of the so called co-prosperity sphere (list of target nations) of Japan. My mother's family and other relatives were forced to leave the town after it was bombarded by Japanese airplanes."
Impressions:
My father was an historian. His descriptions of the military's return to the Philippines and the important details of the war have been lost with the passing of time. To this day, I recall what a brutal, overwhelming undertaking it was for the American and Philippine troops to engage the Japanese. Not only did the deep muddy terrain create a hideous deterrent, the complex and never-ending invasions spread from the Layette Valley to the Battle of Shoestring Ridge, the battles along the Ormoc Coast, Camp Downes, and Luzon. The troops were worn and the equipment and supplies were insufficient to manage the battles that were ferocious and unyielding, A record number of lives were lost in an effort to send Japan packing. .
Your Story:
This story is extremely well written. Your descriptions are clear and
your accounts are written to inform and shed light on how it was to live in Leyete before and during the Japanese invasion. I can't imagine how unsettling it must have been for your mother and her family. Whether or not the USA's attempt to rescue the Philippines was considered a collosol gift or a huge error, for the American families who lost so many soldiers to rescue the Philippines, there will always be, as you pointed out, people who think of America's role as audacious.
Summary:
It is rare that we hear about this war from the standpoint of the Philippine people. Your views and articulate descriptions add value and perspective. You stretched our knowledge and awareness of life in Leyete during World War II with the recollections of the next generation whose parents recall how it was to endure the elongated war and loss of lives.
I love this story ! How many of us have had to navigate our ways through whacky moments like this.
My daughter decided at age 14 she'd use some of the money she earned baby sitting to buy herself hair coloring. She snuck the box into the house and when she arrived at the breakfast table in the morning, her hair was blonde instead of light brown ! She didn't look terrible. She just looked different--not at all like herself.
That afternoon, she had a swimming competition. After swimming. she worked at drying her hair before leaving school in the bus. As her hair dried, she saw much to her shock that the chlorine in the pool mixed with the hair dye had turned her hair bright green. It took two hours in the beauty salon to modify the color so it was no longer green.
You see what your story inspired ?
You tell a wonderful story, Connieann. I'm impressed at how gracefully you write. Your stories unfold beautifully. They are engaging and thoroughly appealing. The flow of this story is perfect. And, the pace of your story is such that we are riveted from your story's opening line to the story's end.
This poem is hysterical. Not sure
it earns its "psychological" branding
unless whacky counts !
I'll take your word for it that this
deserves its "emotional" and
"biographical" labels.
I must admit, I don't think I'd give it
an E status. Still, it's clever. And, your
descriptions are the 5-star
heroes in this one heck of a good poem !
It's great to see you here again, Boris.
I hope all is well and life is good.
RFSmith points out: "There is no such thing, as the President of America. This is not a political article, it is a comment about people from the USA using the term America for their country, when other people in America are annoyed by this. America is the name for North, Central and South America. The USA is a large part of North America, and a few islands in the Pacific Ocean. So Trump is wrong to use slogans like, Make America Great Again, and America First foreign policy. "
Smith also reminds us: "Canada covers a larger area of North America than the USA does. It is like when English people refer to the UK as England, or England as Great Britain."
And: "If President Trump has an America First foreign policy does this mean that he is working for all North, Central and South America ?"
Well, Mr Smith, you make several good points. Good luck getting
President Trump to change his tune !
This is a wonderful challenge for all of us to consider.
"The girl who everyone thought was unbreakable, finally broke. Every time she tried to be strong and give her all she crumbled. All her broken pieces put into a box for safekeeping. Eventually, the weight of the box became too much for her to carry. She begged for wings, I know it is an odd request but when you spend your life bogged down, and you feel have nothing left to lose, you are ready to fly. The girl is given her wings and she scoops up her box in her very frail arms and flies to the top of a jagged cliff."
At the top of the cliff, the girl is given a choice to reach into the weighty box to put the pieces of her life back together. Or, she can fly away and be free of pain. You'll have to read the poem to learn which of these options she chose.
This is a beautifully penned piece. It's author is new here.
We should be on the lookout for more of her writing.
This piece is heartwarming, painful, and
informative. The picture of your mother
lifting you up off the floor to go see
the doctor is particularly moving. You
described your depression with clarity
in a caring, sensitive way that
many of our readers will appreciate.
It is disappointing to find anti-depressant
drugs sometimes create more problems
than they solve. How wonderful that you
found a great partner who has been a
source of inspiration. That he believes
in you and gives you strength must be
reassuring and revitalizing, Donnelly.
I cheer you on, Donnelly. You deserve all
the best. Your experiences and observations
are bound to be helpful to others who read
your writing here on W.Com.
"This is a real medical issue. Anxiety is a real problem, and is something that needs to be dealt with. Anxiety is not in your head. It's a reaction to fear, just worse. Bad news, it doesn't always go away. Good news, there are ways to calm down." (Donnelly)
You remind us, the many ways that people have of trying to calm a friend or family member who is suffering from anxiety and depression, can make things worse rather than better at times. You point out how patronizing a well-meaning friend can be. Instead, encouraging a friend to talk can be especially useful if the friend listens with loving support --while resisting the temptation to lecture or judge.
Mechanics:
There are small errors here and there in this essay that need attention, Donnelly. If you want me to be more specific, let me know. I will mail what I see that needs fixing for you to consider. This way, you will have a chance to think about the suggestions without feeling pressed to do so. If you make these changes, you'll find your paper and the people who will read it going forward, will benefit from your wisdom and advice. Your paper is wonderful, Donnelly. If you fix the errors, you'll find your work will receive the level of support and encouragement it deserves.
Your sensitivity and astute observations are clear and compelling, Donnelly. I hope you will continue on to write more on this subject to help friends, family members, and colleagues become well informed in ways that are meaningful.
We're so pleased to have you here with us, Danfer. I see you joined
Writing.Com one week ago on October 9. I am including a link to one
of Writing.Com's support groups for new members. If you join,
you'll make new friends, and you'll be given help navigating this
busy writing metropolis.
I thoroughly enjoyed reading your poem.
And, I'm in awe of your ability to capture your son's head-over-heels
teenage bliss with this ode to love, Danfer:
"Why do I see stars in broad daylight?
Why do I quiver to my greatest delight?
Why do I sense it at first sight?
Why do I toss and turn overnight?
Why do I enjoy every second of your presence?
Why do I endure every bit of your absence?
Why do I replay and listen to your favorite song?
Why do I lament "meeting is fleeting, parting is long"?
Why do I recollect the hours spent together?
Why do my lips tremble to utter?
Why do I feel walking in the cloud?
Why do I feel lonely in the crowd?
Why do I worry that you may let me down?
Why do I grow content as a king without a crown?
Why do I make a fool of me like a clown?
Why do I sometimes laugh sometimes frown?"
This is a portion of a longer poem. While your writing style is
understated, this is a beautiful portrayal of the sweet innocence
attached to falling in love for the first time. All of these
years later, I rejoiced as I read each "why."
Your format is a perfect match with the poem.
Needless to add, your poem is beautifully presented.
What I like most about your poem is the kindness
and respect you give your son.
This is a beautiful, touching story, Chidia. You're off to a great start !
I hope you're enjoying Writing.Com. We are so pleased to have you
here with us. If you need a little help, be sure to ask. There are
several wonderful programs for new writers where you can make new friends
and get help when needed to make your way around W.Com. I thought you
might enjoy checking this one. It is a wonderful program:
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Format:
I think you might find it is easier for your readers to enjoy your
wonderful story if you were to cut the large block of writing into
several separate paragraphs. I think you'll find it makes your job easier
too. You have a great story to tell...breaking it down into readable
paragraphs will make you proud. It will look and feel professional.
Suggestions:
If you would like a bit of help with your story, I would
be pleased to do this. I think it's a good idea to tackle that after
you are settled in on W.Com, and you feel up to fixing a bit here and there
in your story. In the meantime, thank you for sharing your lovely
story with us.
I had a wonderful time reading your story. I like your writing style and your format, Kyle. You stick to your story line and you provide just enough background info to keep us informed without fanfare. I am struck by the ease with which you tell a story, and the simplicity of your writing style. As a result, you are able to produce a super fast-paced story. You seem to have an excellent instinct for providing details when needed, but not so much that the momentum you've created is watered down.
Format:
I especially like the way you move from location to location. Each one belongs to a key character in your story. I hope you continue on to keep up this pace. In the first several paragraphs of this story three people have disappeared. I hope Jim and Carol are released from the horrible holding area which seems to have no purpose but to torture its occupants, leaving them without water, food, or an obvious way out. Carol disappeared many years ago. Jim has hoped he'd find her again someday. This reunion does not shed light on her disappearance and why she is here in this capsule with Jim,.but not for long. She disappears again. Jim is left wondering where his wife has been and why she is there, looking sick and wasted.
The Unidentified Flying Object:
In the final sentences of your first chapter, Kyle takes us to see the large flying object that looks somewhat like a plane at first: It zooms around," as if hypnotized" "With shocking abruptness, the ‘plane’ started moving in a straight line. The onlookers watched as it dived down, while leveling itself off in order to continue straight towards them. "No dust was kicked up underneath it, and the lights kept flashing different colors. The object itself was circular; on the top was a bubble and the disc surrounding the bubble seemed to be spinning."
This vehicle had "two rows of three lights that met at one end, so that they formed a V and the point of the V had another light on it. The light at the point of the V seemed to flash, like someone took a photo with a camera. When the object flew directly up, there was no sound, no rush of wind, nothing." Its disappearance and the close of Chapter One coincide.
Re: Suggestions
Kyle, while I have suggestions to offer, I thought it would make better sense and better use of your time if I were to send those separately. Let me know if you'd like me to do this. This is a good story. You're off to a great start, Kyle ! Nothing I have to offer includes making changes in your story line. The story is engaging in all the ways you'd hope to achieve when embarking on a high energy science fiction/ mystery story like this.
This is well written story about Helen McGummer, a 16 year- old whose
heart throbs for Rick Tory, a 19 year-old musician who is considered to be the best rock singer of the millennial generation. Helen saw that the singer and his band were performing at the local concert hall for a quick two nights
that are likely to be sold out. Helen decides she'll have to sneak out one of those nights to see Rick Tory. The night of the concert, when her parents went off to bed, she slipped out of the house to run the few blocks to the concert hall. Helen realizes this may be the only chance she will have to see Rick Tory live.
While at the party after the concert, "Helen turned around from grabbing a Pepsi from a poolside cooler to find none other than Rick Tory standing in front of her. She can't quite remember what was said that night. Some niceties, some comments about the band, and Helen found herself led to an upstairs bedroom and, as the saying goes, the rest is history." Needless to add, little Bob will always serve as a wonderful reminder of Helen's fleeting moments with Rick Tory.
A couple of Suggestions:
You write: Helen would always have a special in her heart for her ''Little Bob''. Nothing would ever change that. Consider this: Helen will always keep a special place in her heart for "little Bob." Nothing will ever change this.
You write: "Helen cradles young Bob to her as she watches the rain."
Instead, try: Helen cradles young Bob as she watches the rain." When you
use the word "genuflect" I think you might have wanted: reflect.
Consider: "After exchanging some niceties and some comments about the band, Helen was led to an upstairs bedroom. And, as the saying goes, the rest is history."
I like this piece and look forward to reading more.
Bravo and all the best,
"For over 35 years I've been a Designer/Seamstress and Crafter. Until 3 years ago when I had a mild stroke. This made sewing harder to do.
Way back in 2005 I tried my hand at writing. There I found another passion. I sew sometimes, but not like I used to. Writing for me is just as enjoyable and it gives me peace of mind when I write stories. Something I've always wanted to do as well. So here I am! Loving every minute doing it. WDC has given me a whole new satisfaction. Type of Writer: Children's picture books, elementary age chapter books, fiction, & true stories, poems, bios and, who knows? I like it all."
The Story: Miracles Can Still Happen:
I thought about this story, wondering how I could begin to give the author and her story the credit they deserve. The story was built around Rosa, a caring, creative mother and wife. She loves her children and grand children. She is devoted to her husband. And, he is devoted to her.
Early one spring morning, Rosa receives a call from her doctor's office. The
nurse explains the reading they received as a result of a change in the recent results of her tests. The nurse went on to say: "the blood work came back positive for Cancer and she needs to come in for further testing and talk about possible treatments."
This courageous woman and her family recognized, no one ever found a place in the scriptures where someone came to Jesus for healing that they were not healed. Rosa, her husband, and children were determined that just believing in God was not enough. The answer was to believe in God and his power to heal.
"When the time came for Rosa's first follow up from the cancer treatment she turned and hugged Bill and said, " No matter what, I'll be with you always and forever." The follow up went fine. They took more blood from her still bruised arms. The doctor said, " as soon as the tests come back we will call you in for another treatment. Until then I can't make any further decisions.
For months, the doctors drew blood. Each time, the results were iffy. Until finally, Rosa and her husband drove in for the usual tests and conversations with her doctor. This visit with the doctor was different. Several doctors were in her room with her husband. The doctor reviewed the tests and went over the results. The doctor was trying to explain to Rosa and Bill something that could not be explained! Rosa and Bill were in shock! They replied to the doctors, " you're telling us the Cancer is completely gone and that there is no sign or trace in the tests that it was ever there ! "
At the close of the story, Bill and Rosa agreed, the power love had a great deal to do with Rosa's miracle. This is a wonderful story with a remarkable outcome. Courage and determination kept Rosa going, along with the love of her family and friends. Her story is inspiring and a very special gift to all cancer
patients.
This story, written for a Flash Fiction Contest, is delightful !
You had me in your grip the moment the Sheriff
explained to his newly hired deputy that lying in wait
outside the local bar is the best place to pull over drivers.
Not five minutes later, a young man staggers out of the
bar and, with a great deal of fumbling and stumbling,
he got in his car and began the drive home.
Here's where the clever writer steps in. The fellow behind
the wheel it seems, is not the drunk driver we saw stumbling
in the parking lot, but a designated driver who stepped
in to rescue this young guy. Meanwhile, the drunk
driver went home as a passenger in another car.
Needless to add, the sheriff looked pretty silly giving this sober
man one drunk-driving test after another. He couldn't figure out why
this man who looked seriously inebriated back in the lot, is now
sober as a judge.
This is a wonderful, well written story, Bedrock. You are
a fine writer of fun flash fiction. I hope you continue on
to write more of these entertaining stories.
"I didn't originally intend to write about the dance memory that ultimately became the focus of the story. I actually had forgotten about this experience for a long time. I was initially just intending to write about the various parties where I heard this song being played. Somehow though this experience just rose to the top of the rest of the memories. It's really surprising what fragments of the past a simple song can unlock."
This story was written as part of Writing.com challenge. Basically the goal was to listen to the song "Celebration" by "Kool and the the Gang" and write a piece that the song inspired.
"It's really surprising what fragments of the past a simple song can unlock."
Parties:
Your descriptions of the parties sound a lot like many my friends recall
when we talk about our teenage years, including dancing class, awkward
introductions, especially awkward first dances, and the slow dances that
every one of us waited for enthusiastically. Sometimes for the chance to
dance with our dream partner. Much of the the time, this meant we could
shuffle around the dance floor without embarrassing ourselves big time !
The Dance:
This is a wonderful piece. You describe the occasion, the young woman,
and the dance without fanfare, which means your story comes across as authentic. Reading about your dance was like watching a black and white 50's movie. When the color and glamour are peeled back, the teenage boy and girl emerge, and we know them.
Summary:
"The whole experience on the dance floor probably took place over the course of a minute or two but it seemed simultaneously longer and shorter than that. Reflecting on the memory now I think that the girl might have realized the extent of my lack of dancing experience and graciously cut things short. For me though I didn't mind and remember the experience pretty fondly. It was a fun party!"
In Closing:
Throughout this piece, you dispense with needless details. There is something endearing about this piece, given the simplicity of your story and the complete lack of fanfare attached to the time spent on the dance floor. This
piece is unique, unadorned, well written, and authentic.
Grace's Blog: www.bridgeofwords.blogspot.com
Favorite Genres: Sci-Fi, Christian, fantasy, romance, mystery
Favorite Authors: Dee Henderson, Irene Hannon,
Dan Brown, Jane Austen
Favorite Quote: "Always use the word 'impossible' with
the greatest caution."
A Children's Story:
Toni and Andrew tease five year old, Jackson:
Andrew calls out to Toni: “Did you buy that body pillow you wanted?”
“No,” came the confused reply. “Why?”
Andrew grinned. “Then we have a lump on our bed.”
“Oh do we now?”
The lump twitched, and Andrew thought he heard a small snicker. His grin widened. “Yeah. Guess the lump monster’s back.”
“Oh, dear!” Andrew heard the feigned fear in her voice. “It must have eaten Jackson, because he was on the bed just a minute ago.”
Andrew gasped. The lump twitched little more and began to giggle. “Oh, it’s a giggly lumpy monster!” He slowly approached the bed.
Jackson wiggled and twitched while his Dad tickled and laughed.
Andrew just grinned and pulled his son into a hug. He’d loved these “Lump Monster” games since he was younger than Jackson. And now that it had passed onto the next generation, he would enjoy them again, but as the recipient of the “attacks.”
Impressions:
This is a delightful story, one many of us can recall when we think
back on those wonderful days when we were little. I remember
waiting with great anticipation when hide-and-seek was under way and mom or dad had to find us. Little clues like the sign of a familiar sneaker peeking out from the bottom edge of an oversized blanket. Or seeing the fingers of a little fairy whose mom had painted her nails rosy red with her favorite nail polish. The little fairy holds the sheet over her body from her wiggling toes to the top of her head. This is a wonderful tradition. This game provoked lots of laughter and created wonderful warm memories to be enjoyed many years later.
Thanks for sharing your story, Grace ! Your writing is a perfect match with
your story. You craft wonderful images of the little boy under the covers
waiting with great joy and lots of giggles for the tickling to start :)
Child Stars:
Creating a delightful 5 year old who is cute naturally through the force of their personality is a challenge you responded to beautifully, Grace. Your Jackson is the epitome of an adorable five year old. He responded to the game exactly the way our children did at age 5. Bravo, Grace !
I hope you will continue on to write more children's stories, Grace !
Elizabeth lives in Ontario, Canada
Her Interests: Writing, reading, history, film, music, feminism, social justice.
Favorite Links: https://twitter.com/lizleannek https://www.goodreads.com/elizabethlk
Favorite Genres: Fiction: Fantasy, Sci-fi, Romance, Graphic Novels,
Historical, Horror, YA. Non-Fiction: History, Memoir, Biography.
A few of her Favorite Books: Harry Potter, A Series of Unfortunate Events,
A Game of Thrones, I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings
Animal Farm, and The Lottery.
Favorite Poets: Maya Angelou and Christina Rosetti
Elizabeth's Story: The Night Terrors
You write beautifully, Elizabeth. Your descriptions are wonderful. I read this a few times
to determine whether the "waves of heat" and "mirage tinted red" were in reality, an
automobile accident happening, a fire down the road, or a nightmare driving Susannah
through an epic nightmare to meet her demise--"the doom of her prophetic dream."
While I'm not a fan of horror stories, this piece of writing has to be praised for
its absorbing qualities and its compelling descriptions.
Bravo, Elizabeth. I hope you continue on to write more stories.
The first paragraph has the feeling of a preface: "The distant sound of voices was getting louder, louder. Until eventually, they were so close she could practically hear them shouting their insensitive, harsh realities into her ears. Their words kept repeating and repeating. She felt more of her carefully composed wall crack which each word, with each syllable." This is the voice of a ghost, the ghost of the girl who was murdered, calling out.
"The girl was dead. Killed during a robbery gone wrong in her own home. The robber? Her own cousin. He wanted money and lots of it. A drug dealer, an addict, blackmail. So many reasons why he did it but, one thing is for certain. He threw her life to the winds."
This is a whisper of a story. Because of its size, I couldn't help but admire your ability to capture the essence of this tragic story sufficiently to make what happened clear. You wrote well, Naru. There is something alluring about the absence of details in this story. I hardly took a breath before I found myself reading your story's last few words. If you were a poet, this might be considered prose-poetry. If you were a visual artist, this piece would be considered an "abstract" painting. In this case, the reader must hasten to gather the threads of your story. Your unique writing style and your choice of words are a perfect fit with the story's format.
Thank you for sharing this story with us, Naru. I hope you continue on to write more.
The first paragraph has the feeling of a preface: "The distant sound of voices was getting louder, louder. Until eventually, they were so close she could practically hear them shouting their insensitive, harsh realities into her ears. Their words kept repeating and repeating. She felt more of her carefully composed wall crack which each word, with each syllable." This is the voice of a ghost, the ghost of the girl who was murdered, calling out.
"The girl was dead. Killed during a robbery gone wrong in her own home. The robber? Her own cousin. He wanted money and lots of it. A drug dealer, an addict, blackmail. So many reasons why he did it but, one thing is for certain. He threw her life to the winds."
This is a whisper of a story. Because of its size, I couldn't help but admire your ability to capture the essence of this tragic story sufficiently to make what happened clear. You wrote well, Naru. There is something alluring about the absence of details in this story. I hardly took a breath before I found myself reading your story's last few words. If you were a poet, this might be considered prose-poetry. If you were a visual artist, this piece would be considered an "abstract" painting. In this case, the reader must hasten to gather the threads of your story. Your unique writing style and your choice of words are a perfect fit with the story's format.
Thank you for sharing this story with us, Naru. I hope you continue on to write more.
"I live in New Zealand, in a small coastal area called Raumati Beach.
I am married with three gorgeous grown up girls, and one
granddaughter. My passion for poetry has always been within me,
but never encouraged. I find it hard to share my poetry, but through
a lovely friend, have started sharing. I am a breast cancer
survivor of ten years this year! "
My Impressions:
This is a wonderful poem, Heleny. You may be happy to see a film of this race.
I found it on YouTube: type in: YouTube: Berlin 1936 Rowing eight.
While the film is black and white, it shows us the exciting final moments
of the race when the US team moves ahead of the German and
Italian teams. Heleny's poem--with her beautiful descriptions--
gives us a sense of the hard work, the long painful preparation, and the
amount invested by all of the athletes in this glorious undertaking.
She emphasizes this sport's harmony, balance, and rhythm.
When going to the ballet "Swan Lake, "
you expect the tall posture and sense of lightness ... In sculling or rowing,
the rower's core strength and trunk stokes the team's elegance.
A Single Stanza taken from Heleny's Poem:
I especially admired:
"Although fragile like cobwebs
in the evening breeze,
theirs was a poem of motion
A symphony of swinging
In harmony, balance and rhythm
As they reached for gold,
the perfumed cedar, the spicy sweet aroma,
effervesced into mystery
Beauty unfolding."
Questions and Suggestions:
A couple of questions:
Do you think it would help to place a
period after "motion." Think whether
you should also place a comma
after "balance," and a period after
"rhythm." and "mystery."
These are simple fixes. Your poem
is no less wonderful as is.
However, its excellence can and will
be fully celebrated with these
simple repairs.
Thank you for sharing this gorgeous
poem. You are a fine writer, Heleny.
Your story is about a 14 year old girl who finds out she has Protanopia. This is a disease that keeps us
from seeing red-green. This disease comes down from the girl's grand parents. The girl loves to paint
and draw, but has never seen red. Her mother dug deep for remedies, and found a special pair of
glasses, if worn, would allow the girl to see red. It was a huge, exciting moment for the girl who never saw
the world the way we do, to suddenly see the same things we see. Her devoted mother gave her these
special glasses for her birthday. What a glorious surprise !
I admire the simplicity of the story and the wonderful ending crafted without the help of a brass band, or a
long line of trumpets. The young girl closed the story by putting on her new glasses and
drawing with a red pencil for the first time ever.
Bravo to the student who wrote this story for her English class !
"Her uncle left her an odd shop with a door linking this world to that. Something
passed through & it took every she had to close the door."
One small fix is needed:
Look carefully:
Her uncle left her an odd shop with a door linking this world to
that. Something passed through it & it took every ounce of energy she had
to close the door.
GC: this is a wonderful entry. I hope we'll see what happens next
I know you just joined Writing.Com in September. I hope you're navigating
this wonderful, busy forum comfortably. Keep up the good work,
work, GC. In the meantime, if you need help with anything, don't hesitate
to get in touch.
Your bio: It was a treat to read your back-story. You are a capable writer. What you've
done over the years, in addition to writing, had to contribute to your well organized,
articulate writing style.
Setting aside private writing time is a wonderful idea. That you stick to it, is amazing !
There can't be a better way to build writing skills than to write on a regular
basis. You are setting a wonderful example for all of us, Stefan.
The High Point in your Bio:
"We Skype a family writer's group every week. My oldest child, though educated in computer
engineering, writes for his living. On one occasion he asked, "Dad, why only write for sanity
leaving your novels to gather dust in some forgotten corner? Write one for our writer's group
and get it published. I know you can do it—I did." The challenge was accepted and I began
a new science fiction novel: departing from the purely fantasy genre of my past."
Imagine being able to inspire your children to become writers too What a gratifying
way this must be to bond with your family.
Small fixes:
When you write: "To avoid letting my children make my mistake of waiting until older to begin writing,
as each turned fourteen or so, I convinced them to join me in writing," do you think this sentence
needs a little attention ? Consider this: To discourage my children from waiting too long to start writing, I
approached each one at age 14 or so to invite them to write with me. Now, we Skype as a family writing
group each week.
When you write: "Brandon Sanderson's creative writing university classes online started improving my
writing and a few months later, I joined Writing.Com." How about trying this: After joining Brandon
Sanderson's university program for writers, I found I was making progress.
In the sentence that begins with: "On the advice of a past student", when you write: "I registered took
that course last term," consider this as an alternative: I registered to take that course last term.
When you write: "my writing quality has steadily improved", consider: the quality of my writing has
steadily improved.
Thank you for sharing your writing history and endeavors with us. I hope you'll go on to write more.
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