I loved the title and couldn't wait to see how the two were related. I'm not sure that they were, except that you want to vent about both. Then again, you did mention that mysterious substance in both instances.
What a great story. The title didn't give a thing away, and the description merely told that it was a horror story.
I have to admit that I disliked the mister from the start. You must have done a good job of making him a jerk. Still, I could understand his reluctance at having the children go along with the aunt. Knowing how controlling they were almost made one feel sorry for him. Almost.
The twist at the end was perfect. I figured there would be one, but that wasn't the one I expected.
Good story. I wondered at the title, before I read the story. If the two were people you were greeting, I thought, "Why not, Hello Fellows." The story explained the title, although I still might have used something like: Competitive Greetings. I guess it's the use of actual greetings and quotation marks in the title that seemed a bit odd.
But the story and lessons were great. If only everyone got to meet someone like John, perhaps we'd realize that each of us really is special in some way.
Hmmm. I loved your poem. I'm just not sure I would call it an "ode". Some dictionaries still claim that an ode is supposed to be serious and meditative. Your poem wasn't that, was it?
Anyway, I did say I loved the poem, and I did. As a coffee lover myself, I could certainly relate. The rhythm was good and so were the rhymes. The only disappointment was the use of "strife" to rhyme with "life". So many use that...
I loved this. The title made me curious. It's a good title. The description gave me a hint of what was to come. The words described quite a place, a place where many will never visit.
I think we often forget that other lands are just like our own: beautiful and ugly, friendly and scary, many things to many people.
If I were you, I'd leave out that apology at the end. There's nothing wrong with writing a descriptive story. Further, you were able to tell of the lynching without a lot of details, letting us imagine in our minds.
Stories about those horrible times in our histrory need to be told again and again.
Suggestion: His lips was a pale red
Should be: His lips were a pale red
This is quite a book. I tried reading it aloud, but I think that it's too early in the morning. (That and one of my new symptoms of fibromyalgia seems to be having a dyslexic mouth. I'm forever twisting words and phrase now, so this was a challenge. )
The art of reading to children is something every parent should practice. I started reading to my son before he was born, and the nurses teased his dad and me when we were reading to him in the hospital. But he learned to read by the time he was 3 years old.
As I read this, my only thought was that a parent would want to read it first to make sure he/she knew the definitions of all of the words. Kids are curious creatures.
This one made me smile and do just a bit of quiet chuckling. Since you've termed this a comedy poem, I guess you've succeeded in your goal.
You did get a point across about forcing rhymes, I think.
When I first started writing poems as a young child (8 years old), I thought all poems had to rhyme. With my limited vocabulary, they were pretty strange. Then in high school, I discovered they didn't have to rhyme at all. How freeing.
Good opinion piece, and it's great to hear from someone who followed the rules to become a citizen.
While your comment that immigration shouldn't be biased according to one's race or origin makes some sense, I believe there have been some laws to that affect for some time. It's my understanding that there have been "quotas" so that no country could try just dumping their citizens upon us.
Perhaps that's why in Mexico the government prints brochures for their citizens about how to sneak into our country safely. It's probably also why so many do arrive and stay illegally. If they had to wait for their turn, it might never happen, especially if they had to pay. (Although many do pay high sums to be smuggled. That money could be saved to spend on proper and legal immigration.)
Allowing "too many" of one type of individual can make happen what already has. Certain immigrants would no longer be minorities, but majorities, and our laws could end up being changed to reflect that.
As one who has lived in both FL and TX, I've seen what can happen. I met quite a few kids in TX with Hispanic names who were forced to take classes where mostly Spanish was spoken, even though their families had been here for generations and only English was spoken in their homes. One girl almost failed her middle school years because the "rules" said her Hispanic origin meant she had to be taught with mostly Spanish.
Conversely, I had a friend in Houston who had arrived from Nicaragua in the 60's. There were 8 kids in the family and only the 2 oldest had learned any English.
Noel was about 8 at the time and was placed in 2nd grade. He was supposed to either sink or swim. The teacher didn't know any Spanish at all. By the end of the school year, he could speak English. And by the time I met him when he was 30, he didn't have one bit of a Spanish accent when he spoke English. His parents were in their 80's then, and although they were not bilingual, they did know enough English to get my.
Anyway, this is well written. And it is a hot topic about which we need to form our own opinions.
You've done a good job of explaining how one with a mental illness feels about being shunned. People think nothing of someone taking drugs for a physical ailment. But when the physical ailment has something to do with the wiring of the brain, it's a whole different story.
Sept. 11-17 is invisible chronic illness awareness week. I like some of the t-shirts available this year. They say: My illness is invisible, but my hope shines through. And: Hope. It's a choice.
I think those should be the words anyone with a chronic and invisible illness carries with him/her.
Interesting dream/story. Rather than putting all of this in one paragraph, I would probably separate it into two or three. Also, since you're talking about one angel, these sentences should be changed:
They put their hand out and motioned me to grab it. Instead, it should be his hand or her hand, depending on the angel's gender.
As soon as my hand hit theirs, we were off like a bat out of hell. Again, since it's only one angel, it should be his or hers, not theirs.
Quite a story. I think you've created a story that many have considered and wondered about the outcome of such a reunion. You did a great job of having the "right" kind of ending, too.
A few suggestions:
You do have a few rather long sentences. This one ends in "from" - a preposition. I'd probably change that.
Jenna in high school had been popular, not only because of her radiant, cheerleader energy and kind smile, but because of her genuineness; she was real and she treated everyone genuinely, no matter what clique or group or part of the city they had come from.
Here, you don't need a semi-colon. A comma will do.
In high school, he was tall and gangly; handsome but not overtly so.
It's always interesting to discover what faiths are represented here. Perhaps having this appear in the spiritual newsletter will help get more responses. Just 126 answers in 9 months just doesn't tell the tale.
I loved this. Personally, I hate storms and have never thought of them being anything like music, which is pleasant. You've given me something to ponder, and that's a good thing.
Wow. I guess this one hit home to me because my dad died last year at this time. He didn't have cancer, but his lungs were't real good (asbestosis, years of smoking, many episodes of pneumonia, including the one that took him). There were just some things he had to tell my sisters before he left this world, even though it was hard to talk. The way you wrote the gasping words reminded me of that. And that I didn't make it to the hospital before he died.
It's a good story. The emotion is there. Normally one wouldn't use so many ellipses, but it does make sense in helping the reader feel/hear the gasping words.
A few suggestions:
The man that lay in the bed beside where he sat, was now, only a fragile shell of the man he once was. No longer strong enough to stop a locomotive, like Superman. No longer faster than the Flash, on his best day. No longer able to play catch or go to a neighborhood game. And now, unable to carry on a lively debate, just for fun.
The man who lay in the bed beside him was only a fragile shell of a man. He could no longer stop a locomotive, like Superman. He wasn't faster than the Flash on his best day. He no longer played catch or even watched the neighborhood games. Now, he was even unable to carry on a lively debate, just for fun.
This man beside him was nearing his end and he knew it. (i}This confused me a bit. Him, his and he? I wasn't sure which person you were writing about, the father or son.
Your not a girl, are you?” You're not a gir...
Tears started to run from the corners of Oscars eyes, he did not notice. Either a period or semi-colon after eyes.
James looked up at the changed light, he knew he had been given fatherly instructions before he left his Dads room.
Either a period or semi-colon between "light" and "he", plus an apostrophe here: Dad's
He knew now, that, he to, had the right to be wrong. ...he too...
Good poem. Good rhyme and rhythm. I liked how you began with kids and ended with grown-ups. You probably have lots of stories you could tell about your experiences in Iraq.
Wow, I'm glad I found this. You've written some powerful words here about my birth place. Yes, you probably do need a few corections (your description does say you never made edits/corrections), but reading this brought back so many memories of the 'Burgh.
Forty years ago, I was only 14. I remember that downtown smelled of soft pretzels and nasty cigars. Especially Wood(s?) Street.
At 16, though, I must have seen some of the same things you did. It was then that I penned a poem after being downtown. In it I said, "millions of people all around, yet we are ever alone."
I haven't been back to Pittsburgh since my son was about 6 and we went to Kennywood. He's 22 now. I think before the year is out, I should make a visit. Now that I'm in Ohio (and not TX or FL like I was), I'm a lot closer. Pittsburgh is calling.
Wow. This sent chills through me (or is that the illness or meds?). I think it was your poem. Seriously. I think these are rather wise words.
Perhaps some poems can be tweaked a bit when one is writing a rhyming poem and one word just doesn't sound right, or one line just doesn't flow properly. But when we begin re-writing and re-writing, our poetry does take on a new life.
I once met a man who had been writing and re-writing the same poems for years. He wanted them to be just perfect. He asked for my help in editing and typing them up for him in some organized fashion. I did type them, but the only editing I did was that I used his first original poems and made sure the spelling was correct and they presented well on the page. He was thrilled with the results, and then chagrined when he realized that he'd edited out the original beauty all those many years.
Thanks for your excellent word crafting and wise thoughts. There are likely many writers and poets who will disagree with your words, but that's because no two writers are really alike.
I absolutely love your poem about poetry. To me, you've captured pretty well how I think about poetry. It's always a shame to me that we don't teach children to enjoy poetry at an early age.
I'm really glad you started by mentioning Psalms.
Thanks for sharing!
Blessings,
Kenzsie
"Any healthy man can go without food for two days -- but not without poetry." -Charles Baudelaire
You've attempted a rhyming poem here, which usually means there is some rhythm as well, and lines that were more equal in length/syllables/meter. If it were free verse or created as prose, that wouldn't be an issue, of course. But it probably wouldn't have rhymes either.
Also:
1) When you came into my life,
Thoughts of hope in my finally occurs,
Since you're using past tense, that second line should say: occurred.
2) The words "life" and "strife" are overused in poetry and, therefore, sound like forced rhymes.
I really think these thoughts would almost be better written as a love letter. People do like to hear that they are wanted and loved.
Awww. This is short and sweet and says so much about you and your whole family with just these few words. Everyone should have a hero. And it appears that you have the perfect one.
I don't think you can improve on this.
Thanks for sharing. My hero used to be 2 years old too. Now he's 22.
Now let's see if I understand what you've written here. Hmmm. Using a Word document allows you to format your writing in any way, right? I think I've got it.
Seriously, this is a great example of what's possible. Even a little yellow box. Me thinks I should use this format. But first I need to clean out my port to make room.
Let's see. Using a Word document allows you to format your writing in any way. I'll remember that.
The good news is that since you've shared your own struggles, others will be blessed.
As one who suffers from fibromyalgia, chronic fatigue, chronic pain, depression and lost of other things that go hand-in-hand with the fibro, I was blessed with finding a counselor who is part of my insurance plan and who is a Christian. He asked when I was my happiest. And when I thought back to the happiest times of my life, I realized they were the times when I was busy serving God and serving people. Doing for others was always my happiest time. But when you're in constant pain, or no longer able to do the things you used to do, it's really easy to focus on self.
I needed to read this today. I'm glad I discovered it.
My only suggestions:
You used "waist" where it should have been "waste."
Also, there are a few long sentences that I might change. Here's one:
That quote has ministered to me so much. Because while I focus on being content in this life I am convicted by her words, I am not supposed to be happy in this life I am here for His glory and should be preparing for Heaven by storing up treasures there, not making my life here more and more comfortable.
I might try:
That quote has ministered to me so much, because while I focus on being content in this life I am convicted by her words. I am not supposed to be happy in this life. I am here for His glory and should be preparing for Heaven by storing up treasures there, not making my life here more and more comfortable.
Thanks for sharing.
Blessings,
Kenzie
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I'm not sure that they were, except that you want to vent about both. Then again, you did mention that mysterious substance in both instances. 
that she didn't score better than a 14 in happiness, though. Hmmm.