broken ballet shoes

And ANOTHER prompt. To describe an object in the room (I chose not to interpret that literally), I chose a ballet slipper hanging from the ceiling that must have been a book report project or something or other years back....

A dream hanging in a noose. A wish blowing in the breeze, because these stars that we reach for - our ladders break. And we fall. Back down to our parchment-thin lives. This scuffed ballet shoe is the varsity football season that never began. The college career that never finished. It is these broken dreams of stardom and of novelists and of sports careers and of travels around the globe. It is the dreams of true love and saving the world, the dreams of spotlights on stages. And then the lights go out.

Love at First Sight

Yet another journal entry prompt (the title) from English. Somewhat inspired by Billy Collins, I suppose.

earlier this morning,

as I rose from my warm bed

my world was blanketed

with ash colored clouds

and piles of dirty snow.

the sun hid her face

the air was cold.

and in the moment

it was love at first sight.

i fell head over heels

for those wisps of cold vapor.

i was lovestruck

by that cold, dreary world

because

this is life

each and every day

and life is beautiful.

worth loving.

Find contentment....

An imagery exercise for English. Thinking back, I think that I may have been thinking about Marco Island, Florida.....

A darkness so black your eyes feel like velvet. The wind warm and damp, lazily caressing your bare shins. The sounds of traffic so distant they become almost indistinguishable from each other and even the faintest sound waves from that seemingly other world that reach your ears become confused with other sensations entering your head. You taste salt. You smell the faintly foul smell of seaweed. The sand shifts beneath your feet and waves lap shyly at your toes. If you were to open your eyes you would see the ethereal expanse of silvery, moonlit sands and the water disappearing into the dark horizon, floating the stars, but as it is, you are content to allow your vision to stay in that velvety ink and find contentment in these simple sensations.

La Neige (The Snow)

Another short little poem for French II....

le neige a dansé
je n'ai pas pensé
le monde a pu halter pour regarder
mais il a eu le silence à donner
le vent a murmuré
pour le soliel nous n'avons pas cherché
nous n'avons pas oublié
parce que les nuages sont déj à arrives.

the snow danced
i did not think
the world could stop to watch
but it had silence to give
the wind whispered
for the sun we did not look
we did not forget
because the clouds had already come.

I Could Not Be Persuaded to......

A journal entry in English class that actually goes wonderfully with the below post... The prompt was the title of this piece. 

You try to force me.

I will resist.

I am strong.

you may beat and shove me.

Try to cram your ideals into my mind.

Tell me what to do.

Why I am here

and

where I'm going.

But I will not

be persuaded 

to stop thinking for myself.

These ideas

are mine.

Unadulterated and pure.

The strength of my will,

will stand up to a thousand arrows

tipped with red-hot arguments.