Category Archives: Creative Writing

Springtime Wonderland

Robin birds sing, are you listening
In the park, smiles are beaming
A beautiful stride
We’re so happy we cry
Homering in a springtime wonderland
Gone away is the football
Here to stay is a baseball
The crack of the bat, as we all stand
Homering in a springtime wonderland
In the outfield we can root them all thanks
Then pretend they’re all is Hammerin’ Hanks
They’ll say: are you proud?
Wel’ll say: I stand tall
And you will win it all come this fall
Later on, we’ll admire
As we watch catch fire
And stand unafraid,
The dreams that we’ve laid
Homering in a springtime wonderland
In the outfield we can root them all thanks
Then hope that other team tanks
We’ll have lots of fun with our superstars
Until their ace strikes them out
When we’re winning ain’t it thrilling
And our screams are a-shrilling
We’ll frolic and play the baseball way
Homering in a springtime wonderland

Diary of a Scoundrel (Part 1)

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My wits are the reason I yet live, and the lack of them is why they all died, the fools. I write this journal in the hopes that one day someone will find it, and deliver it to my dearest Morgan. When last she saw me, I was boarding an honest trading ship bringing much needed cargo and stock to those desperate in need. The voyage was a simple one, without too many events. Oh sure, there was a sea serpent but that is to expected. A pirate here, a pirate there, nothing to be alarmed about. At least not yet.

Continue reading Diary of a Scoundrel (Part 1)

Liquid Sunshine

Please feel free to link this little writing of mine, but remember to give proper attributions. 🙂

The sun was shining brightly – the sky empty of any clouds. By all accounts, including the ones of the two children jumping on the trampoline, the day was magnificent. Clearly the children believed the day to be nearly perfect, but what the day really needed to reach that perfection was rain. And not just any rain, no. The day needed a downpour, a true soaking was called for! Being children, they had the answer. An Indian rain dance. They were 6 at the time, and had been taught about how the Native Americans would dance when the crops needed watering, and so that the crops would grow tall and strong. Being children, a downpour would make them just as tall and strong as the crops. So they danced. In circles they moved, bouncing on the trampoline. Hollering and laughing and dancing.

At first, the sky refused to acquiesce. In truth, though, who can deny a happy child? The sky, being tolerant of children (in truth is was much more than just “tolerant”,but the sky didn’t like for anyone to know), eventually gave in. At first, it was a single cloud on the horizon. Then, there were more and many. Clouds of all shapes and sizes. Suddenly, the children are met by the blazing thunder and the deafening lightning.

The rain had come.

For hours in child-time, the rain came and showered them with happiness and joy. They were happy then, these children. A boy and girl. Cousins destined to love each other as brother and sister. They were closer than most, and they were innocent of everything that happened around them. They lived, and they laughed, and they loved. And they were drenched.