Of Lakes and Trees

I wrote two verses last night about Ireland. they were beautiful! Just right for my book. I wish I wouldn't always think of things in bed when I haven't any paper or pen to write them down. Maybe I will remember it if I think hard enough while laying on the same bed. I slept in Kryst's last night.

I also wrote a lovely sequesnce for my book. I can remember that perfectly, thankfully. I'm going to write it down soon, before I forget.

The little peom was in spired after reading a section of "Rilla pf Igleside", where L.M. Montgomery desribes Rainbow Valley by moonlight through the eyes of Walter. That is enough to inspire almost anyone interested to write a peom about scenery. Especially the beautiful Irish landscape I have been researching lately.

It is so beautiful! The grasslands, waving in the wind. Miles of emerald hills dotted with the amythyst of Heather, wafting on the breeze blown through the pale azure of the sky. The verdent coast that ends in stretches of tall rocky cliffs plunging into the see without warning. The white caps of the waves breaking and spraying the sheer rock that rises high above. And oh, the sound of the flowing river as it kicks up her heels to run like a lamb over the stony passage to the sea. As the clear water floats on past the ivy covered ruins of Menlo Castle, it's gray stone crumbling, plinking little pebbles into the stony depths of Galway river as it purges the slopes and hills with fresh water, before changing it's nature in the salty tang of Galway Bay.
The large, red sun as it sets in a splendour of gold and pink, tinting the crystal clouds with crimson and mauve hues that shadow the briliant green Atlantic with dark blue shapes resembling steady oxen grazing the green fields of Mayo.
Dusk sets in and the glowing ball sinks into the ocean leaving blood stains on the blue tide to be washed away by the midnight heavens, flecked with twinkling sliver asters. The moon rises shedding floods of pearlescant light over the calm of evening and the birds sing their tweet of farewell to sunshine till dawn appears, all the more glorious for her short absence.
Can you feel the wind in your hair, the sounds of sheep bleating contentedly as they chew the tall grass and stomp the purple stalks releasing their fragrance. Can you smell the fair odor as it lists by you breathlesly through the air. Does not your heart pound with love for God and his magnificant eye for beauty? Does not your soul respond to the blessing He has given to us through His wonderful creation? The galaxies, the universe studed with the planets. Mars' red dot in the bright display of astronomical reverence. The rings of ice that circle Saturn's enourmous breadth.
Do you not belive they were made in Uni verso? A single supernatural sentence from the mouth of the Creator.

Now, what am I going to do with that? I almost think my adjectives are running out! I think I can really go now and write that poem.

August 14th 2006

Thinking of posting some of my novel. I'm not sure what part I want to put down though. I don't want to give anything away before it is all done.

I was readng The witch of Blackbird Pond today and I got to the last chapter and I realized I used almost the exact sentance in my book that E.G. Speare uses. I'm not sure if it was like a subconsciouse action, I hadn't remembered it being there, but maybe it was in the "deep receses of my infinite mind." Anyhow, that was pretty cool, also considering that is just about my favorite book on the planet.

You know I often "write" my novel just before I go to bed. That's when I seem to think of some of my best stuff, and I can go to sleep, wake up the next morning and write it all down just like I worded it in my head. It is really nice to be able to do that, if I couldn't I would be in a fix.

August the first, Year of our Lord two-thousand and six

Happy Day!!!!!
I just wrote a poem. Not sure how it got started. I sat down in front of a blank piece of paper to start with, (that usualy helps) and voila!
Well here it is. Not sure what to call it yet. Any Ideas are welcome.

Limp and tired
I came to you
From your hand I aquired
a place of love anew

Where the dried blossoms fall
new ones will spring forth
Sweeter they can be, than all
Love always returns, a compass points North

Without fail spring will come
and hope and peace can be,
The heart beats on as a drum
the soul lives on eternally

I hope that in your loving arms
I find the rest I seek,
Hoping only now are false alarms
your spirit calms as one who's meek

So warm and tender was my welcome
I thought it all a dream,
for it thawed my heart so numb
Things aren't always as they seem

The last I loved was strong,
handsome, tall and brave
But I loved all awrong
when he turned to his grave

I hope your blossoms last
that for a season they will stay,
Untill I forgive and forget my past
untill my eyes turn dim with the light of day