écriture

Young and fresh and shining bright
Filled with wonder and delight
I see beauty, jour and night
I am young enough

Whether it's Real ou just Pretend
Possibilities have no end
There could be magic, 'round the bend
I am young enough

Dolls can déplacer when I'm asleep
They come to life while I count sheep
And freeze whene'er I dare to peep
I am young enough

Book-friends all come out to play
My lit becomes a magic sleigh
Imagination rules the day
I am young enough

The sky can cry a lot of tears
The trees tell secrets; can't toi hear?
The world's alive: to me that's clear
I am young enough

Grownups say the queerest words
Have...

I've been slowly but steadily coming to the conclusion that poésie as an art form is quickly losing its flavor amongst the iPod generation. And I'm not talking about contemporary poets who don't get read par the masses, because as Gertrude Stein would say, "Those who are creating the modern composition authentically are naturally only of importance when they are dead because par that time the modern composition having become past is classified and the description of it is classical. That is the reason why the creator of the new composition in the arts is an outlaw until he is a classic." Or,...

Meredith sat up in the middle of the night screaming. Again. She felt tears wet her eyes at another miserable attempt at sleep. She wanted to pull her sore eyes from her sockets. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t stay asleep. She wasn’t going to get any plus sleep tonight, and Meredith knew that. She pulled off the sheets and slowly stood up. She wobbled slightly and held her head. These nightmares were going to be the death of her.
    Meredith crept down the hall and into the cuisine for a little snack. Maybe some warm lait would put her to sleep. She reached...

Ah, the dreaded cliché! The worst feedback a writer can get is, "Well, it sounds sort of cliché, doesn't it?"

All authors want to be original. If someone even mentions that a writer's work reminds them of someone else's, the writer tenses up. "No, no, no, I'm nothing like him," he says swiftly. "I've never even read him."

"Yeah, but it's kinda like him," the reader persists, believing she is giving a compliment rather than an insult. "He's incredible, toi should read him!"

The thing is-- it should be a compliment when a reader compares your work to...

I shouldn’t have shot the dog. I definitely shouldn’t have shot the dog. Even if he did chew upon my prized drumsticks, and feast upon my freshly-baked brownies. The little white-and-brown terror, Mickey, belonged to my neighbor. My neighbor, an 87-year-old chain-smoker named Mary, rarely left the confines of her living room. She sat, jour in and jour out, as her precious mutts wreaked havoc about the neighborhood.
You can see it! My house, the little beasts have chewed upon everything their gnashing, tiny, sharp little teeth could find. I did my best to keep them out, but the little bastards...

A Valentine’s Gift: A Story of Determination

    Every once in a while we face certain challenges in life; whether it would be at work, school, home, ou an illness. At times we don’t know if we have the courage and inner strength to get passed our obstacle. And sometimes during our worst obstacles, we can accomplish the unexpected. Depending on the challenges we face in life, we still must keep our dignity, even if we lose the battle.
    The two were unprepared for the jour at the hospital, where Lisa would undergo a biopsy. They thought of the procedure...

salut there, everyone! It's the start of a brand new year, and I know we all have brand new ideas for our lives. That is why I want to open this an up with the first ever fanpop poésie contest! It's basic and simple, because everyone can write poetry, and it's short which means everyone can read all of the submissions in a brief period of time, whereas stories may take longer. However, if you're a story-writer (I sympathize), never fear! If this contest goes well, I may sponsor a fanpop Short Story Contest afterwards.

Established Rules
1) Any piece of poésie is accepted, so long as it is not...

For Kay, my dear sister in Jesus. May this small tale help to remind toi how beautifully and wonderfully made toi are in the eyes of the Great Artist.

~~ Beautiful ~~

Once upon a time, not long il y a and not far away, there lived a wise and skillful artist who loved to paint. He delighted in making magic with color and bringing all the images he saw in his head to life in his pictures.

One day, he was painting something extra special. His brush dipped in and out of the swirling couleurs and flew across the canvas in expert strokes; dabbing here, blending there, moving swiftly in a joyful, marvelous...

Vialo By: Josie Mahre

Prolige
"Run, Ella, run!" a dit Vialo. "I'm running as fast as I can!" Ella said. Vialo is a 14-year-old girl with the unique name Vialo Tarah Wilson, also, she has superpowers and the ability to take over / rule the universe / save the universe. Her friend, Ella Newbie, also has superpowers. "Ella, we can hide here." a dit Vialo. "Vialo, go on without me. I'll catch up." a dit Ella. "No. I'll just telaport us out." a dit Vialo. "No! Vialo, they'll find toi easier!" a dit Ella. All of a sudden, some people walked up to them. "You two aren't out yet?" asked one. "No Jasper....

This book is a vampire novel. Simple fact is I disliked Twilight so much I decided to write a half-decent vampire novel. So here is chapter 1
***


Eve looked back at her wings. They were magnificent, pure white and shining. They stretched out about 20 feet. Grinning, she gave herself a running start and launched into the air. Momentarily just enjoying the rush, she opened her eyes and gasped. Everything looked so small! The river gracefully curved on for miles. Letting out a small giggle Eve dived. Now she could make out a few faces. Her mother, Janet, waved from the bibliothèque where she worked....

I was holding it in my hand; this man’s cœur, coeur well not actually his cœur, coeur but his pendant it was a dark rouge colour so pretty, how he felt for this woman his passion for her. My name is Sadie and I am a goddess of love, I have been for the last 400 years, but I have always had a problem with my place, I don’t understand it, l’amour I mean it sounds like some club in L.A that everyone needs to go to and when they do they either get kicked out ou stay and even some times they stay and then get kicked out. I lived in California with my family who are gods to, and they all have a place that...

I suppose every writer faces the dilemma of criticism. Sure, some suggestions are instantly convincing ou exactly what toi thought you'd hear. But others create a quandary, like a double-edged sword. Should toi accept the criticism, make changes in your work ou your style, ou stick with your own judgment, the one toi started with? Either way, toi could be wrong, and it may take years before toi know the answer. In some cases, there may be highlights in an author's ambition level, ou sense of destination, that make the decision particularly challenging.

For instance, in my own case, I wanted...