Imagine This...

A blade of grass waving gentaly in the air. Held down by it's roots it stays grounded. But it hopes for more. It dreams to be tall. As tall as the mountains. It holds it's head up high. It's thoughts in the clouds. Hoping. Dreaming. Wishing, to be tall.

Light

The light flows through the windows.
It floads the floors and,
Fills the room.
If you hold your hand up to it,
You feel it's warmth and then,
It hugs you.
Raps you in a delightful blanket.
Makes you feel safe and sound.
Like a small child going to bed,
Not having to worry about monsters under them.

A Name

A name,

To some it defines you,

Tells the world who you are,

A fancy word on a name tag,

Or even on a store window,

Bill board,

Street sign.

So what is a name?

And a Shakespeare once said...

"What's in a name? That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet."

Life and Your Journey Through It

We close doors,
And open windows.

We draw the curtains,
And turn on the lights.

We reach for the stars,
Till we have no more ladder left.

We walk and walk,
Till the sidewalk ends.

We find the safety of your homes,
And find that where ever our heart is we feel at home.

We are born one day,
And die the next.

But we all go though a journey,
A that journey is called life.

Stars

They twinkle in the sky
They glitter

Sparkle

And shine

They show us the way home

And rock us to sleep

And you may wonder

What they are

But just to let you know they are not what you think

They are...

 Twinkling

 Glittering

Sparkling

Shinny

Little

Fire Flies




"We are all of us stars, and we deserve to twinkle."
-Marilyn Monroe

The Writer

I have no home,
So I lie in the grass.

I feel no pain,
So I pretend to cry.

I do not "fit in",
But neither do you.

I don't have much,
But I do have words.

My words are my world.

They are my doorway
out of this life of mine.

I could be a new person
With a new choice,
Or a run-a-way grandma
Who is in a chase,
Or even a very fancy grape.

I could live in a world all of my own.

One that I create all on my own.

I could live on a green moon,
Or a purple Mars.

I could live a life that I want.

A life like a dream.

A life like a cloud in the breeze.

And no one can stop me,
Oh no,
Not even you.

Sunday Verse

And he said unto me, My grace is sufficient for thee: for my strength is made perfect in weakness. Most gladly therefore will I rather glory in my infirmities, that the power of Christ may rest upon me.

Sunday Verse

Proverbs 18:2 NKJV

A fool has no delight in understanding, But in expressing his own heart.

Happy Early 4TH!!!!

Hello the the very few people who read this blog. I just wanted to tell you all that I know that it is early but I want to wish you a happy 4th of July!!!!!!!!

Sunday's Verse

Bear one another’s burdens, and so fulfill the law of Christ.

One in Another... Continued

   I could not believe the sight of the girl that I looked at. I knew that she was a stranger but she had a gently look in her eye. A look that I had seen before. I couldn't say where or when but it was a look that was implanted in my memory. A memory that had faded little since last looked upon.

                                                                ~

   After a time of gazing into that puddle I started walking. I began walking to the village that I had seen before. But for a split second I hesitated. I wondered what would happen as I stepped into that small village. I wondered if I would be excepted into their daily lives. I wondered... but I kept on walking. Walking toward that small village. With it's small people and small things. It's small church steeple and small fields of veg that is most certainly not forgotten because it bursts with bright red, orange, and yellow crops. I walked on and on until I was there. In that small village. I saw the church and the things. I saw the field with the crops of red, orange, and yellow. But most importantly I saw the people and what they were doing on this day. I saw that they bustled around trying to find what the were looking for and to the places that they needed to be. I could tell that they all look for some thing that they all longed for. Something that they rarely thought about because just the thought would make them want it more even though they knew that they could never have it. Though I don't know why but I felt compelled to help them, but I don't know how to do that. I don't know what they want or even how to get it. I then asked my self ' do they deserve it?' So I kept walking through that village and wonder while I wondered...

Sunday Verse

Rejoice in the Lord alway: and again I say, Rejoice.

Sunday Verse

Study to shew thyself approved unto God, a workman that needeth not to be ashamed, rightly dividing the word of truth.

Sunday Verse

Galatians 5:24 KJV

And they that are Christ's have crucified the flesh with the affections and lusts.

Gold

-->         Some may say that a fish has neither woes nor worries. Pets, you may say, have it the best. Though you may be wrong…

SPLASH!!!

         I started to awaken from the blow of hitting the water. It felt as though I fell on the hard, stone cold, sidewalk material you people know as concrete, instead of the soft, clear liquid that I had called home all my life. I looked back at my silky tail to see if it was still there and when did I saw that it was indeed there, along with the unchangeable, defaced, stubborn scars. But there was nothing and no one else. I was not with the others that I had known for so long. I was alone. In a prison that was deserted other than me.

         Like any inmate that I knew, and for your information yes I was in to doghouse for sometime but I would not like to say why because I am not proudest of it. Any way, any good, and I stress GOOD, inmate would know that there is always a way out. So I ran as fast as I could until…

THUMP!

         Bouncing of the glass, I shook it off, and charged again.

Then again, and again. Then once more, because I was only so desperate. I probably hit every spot of transparency on that invisible wall. Finally giving up, I took a nap. I figured that if I slept I could lose the pounding head ache and regain some strength, along with some dignity.

         When I came to I looked around. I saw the baby blue sky, the growing green trees, and the birds. Oh the birds, how I envy them. Then I got up and thought about flying. I thought about trying to fly but soon changed my mind because I remembered Jimmy, rest in peace my good old friend. So I just started swimming around. I think I made about twelve laps around that cell before I just got bored. So I started talking to the rocks that I soon came to know as Rocky.

         “Hello Rocky!”

         “…”

         “How’s the weather down there?”

         “…”

         “Are you shunning me?”

         “…”

         “Me, your only friend in this place! You are shunning ME!”

         “…”

         “Well I hate you too. Now I am shunning you.”

         “…”

         “Starting now.”

         Since Rocky was so obviously ignoring me, I decided to talk to Sherlock, the seaweed.

         “Hi buddy!”

“…”

“Not you too,” …

And so it went on until I was bored with that, so I blew bubbles. Which wasn’t much better. So I slept some more. Then…

SPLASH!!!

         Then there came another. She was the kind of fish that others would want only for her beauty. Her scales shimmered in the gleaming sun and her tail flowed behind her like limp butterfly wings.

“Hello?”

“What? What? What do you want?” I said hiding behind Sherlock. I could not stand the thought of her seeing me with the scars of my past life.

“Where am I”

“A better question is, what is your name?”

“Bonnie, Bonnie the goldfish”

“Clyde, Clyde Goldfish”

“How do you do? And can you tell me where I am?”

“A fishbowl. An ugly, boring, with nothing to do fish bowl. So make yourself at home because we’re gonna be here awhile,” I told her with the most serious face I could put on.

“Well is there a way out?”

“No”

“Not one spot you haven’t tried?”

“No”

“But isn’t there…”

“Stop asking questions!” I yelled. And I mean yelled. It felt like an earthquake because of the vibrations hitting the inside of the bowl.

         It was quiet again.

         Days past and we didn’t speak. I swam circles and she would take a deep breath, then go to the surface to look around. She would talk to herself at times but that was it. One day though, things got strange.

         I soon learned that our “owner” was a scientist, like the ones in the movies that are complete psychos. He studied all different types of things, but recently he was interested in the domesticated goldfish. One day, though, he put a weird tube in our bowl. The tube was connected to a gas tank that said LAUGHING GAS on it. He turned the knob on the tank and started taking notes. I felt a little tired and fell asleep.

         When I woke up I felt dizzy and I could see that Bonnie was bumping repeatedly into the wall. I soon started laughing uncontrollably.

         It turns out the doc put laughing gas in our bowl to see what the effects were on fish. So I was a guinea pig for life.

         We died three days later from what you might say was “laughing to death”. the psycho that killed us is still on he loose and killing more fish like us.  So that was my life. In a fishbowl. I lived with a beauty of gold and did nothing for it.My only hope is that who ever reads thins will do other wise, because when you have something, as I did, you don't want to set them free.

-Clyde Goldfish

A Walk in a Graveyard

    One cold, dark Halloween night, I decided to take a shortcut through the graveyard. I walked along the bent fence all the way to the rusted gate. The grass was dying and the leaves were falling. I stepped in a crunchy pile of brown leaves. There were acorns all over and the branches of the tall trees swayed in the breeze. The full moon and stars were shining brilliantly bright. I suddenly hit something with my foot. I looked to see what it was and saw a small grey headstone in my way. I heard a faint crying sound in the distance. I looked over my left shoulder to see a little old woman standing there holding a bundle of wilted red roses. She had tears running down her face, leaving little watery trails that the others would follow. She couldn’t stop the tears from flowing as she looked at the grave of a loved one. She was wearing a large brimmed black hat that hid some of her face, but not all. It looked very fancy with it’s small black flowers, white lace, and silver stitching. She placed the bundle and a small glowing lantern on the grave. As I looked away I put my hands in my pockets. I found a small colorful piece of candy and popped it in my mouth. It tasted both sweet and sour. As I rolled it in my mouth I started my journey back home.

Sunday Verse

But the God of all grace, who hath called us unto his eternal glory by Christ Jesus, after that ye have suffered a while, make you perfect, stablish, strengthen, settle you.

BB... NOT THE CREAM

The Boston Bombing was and is still a tragic thing.  I only  that things will get better.

Beloved, let us love one another: for love is of God; and every one that loveth is born of God, and knoweth God.He that loveth not knoweth not God; for God is love.

Sunday's Verse

Acts 2:38 KJV

Then Peter said unto them, Repent, and be baptized every one of you in the name of Jesus Christ for the remission of sins, and ye shall receive the gift of the Holy Ghost.

Writing

I sit here writing.
I sit here biting,
At my pancakes of English toffee.
With a left handed cup of coffee.
Oh I sit here writing.

The Little Four Story Cafe

   There I was in the seat by the windowsill, waiting for my beloved. I held roses in my hand and a ring in my pocket. I watched and waited there for two hours, but she still didn't come. I watched the cars pass by. I watched the street bikers and taxis. I watched the sidewalk walkers and joggers alike. The sky was dismal and I was as tense as ever. Still no sign of her. Back then I was a reporter for the New York Times Daily Paper and had fallen in love on the job. She was the love of my life and I wanted to make her mine. But while I was waiting for my chance a strange man walked in. He held his hand in his pocket a funny way. But before I could realize what he was about to do, tragedy struck.

   I was young at the time. Only twenty and with an infant of only three months. I sat there that the small table drinking my coffee and studying for the big exam on next Tuesday. I read over notes and wondered what the square root of 123 was if it even had a square root at all. I was thinking of meeting up with my brother after this when I saw a crazed looking man walking in. He looked as though he had something in his pocket. But before I could get the whole story about this man, tragedy struck.

   It was the eleventh day of September and I was walking in to my favorite café. As I walked in I saw a rag tagged man walking out with his fresh slice of cherry pie to go in front , an ink stained face reporter to my left, and a young mother with her baby and a piping hot cup of coffee to my right. Then as I was walking to the counter, tragedy struck.

   I didn't know what day it was. I had no knowledge of the time. All I knew was that I had a piece of cherry pie in front of me. I had just bought it with a dollar I found on the streets that day. It was the first real thing that I had eaten in about a week. The café I got it from smelled like old perfume that my grandmother would wear. As I was walking out of that tiny little place I looked up and saw smoke.

One in Another

   I stepped in the shoes of another girl. Of a girl that had no shoes to begin with. Of a girl that I didn't know. I didn't know her name, nor did I know her life and what went on in it.
   I looked in a muddy little puddle that was on the side of an old dirt road.
   Of a road that had little patches of grass here and there. And when looking yonder you saw a small town with small people and small things. A small church steeple and a small field of veg that was most certainly not forgotten because it bursted with the bright red, orange, and yellow crops.
  When one looks in a puddle they look for their own face, but in my position I did nothing of the sort. I looked for the face of a girl that I didn't know. I looked for the face that was NOW mine even though I had no idea of what it looked like.
   The face, now mine, had beautiful curly blond hair that was cut short and mud stained. Large sapphire blue eyes looked straight at me. A small dainty nose stuck out of the face and the lips were the color of new roses.

The Priest

   I walked in with a hope. A hope that grew bigger and bigger as I walked in to that old little church. The hope had grown so big that it was swallowing me whole.
   I walked in and touched the velvet curtains that were draped around the door. They were a brilliantly beautiful red that welcomed you immediately.
   I took one more step in that church when the smell of vanilla hit me like a bat to a baseball. It smelled so divine yet it reminded me of my childhood. I took a big whiff and moved on.
   I walked to the place where my father stood every Sunday. Where he preached the Bible and sang the gospel. I remembered sitting in the front pew with my Bible in hand and my mother at my side.
   I walked over to where my father kept the bucket holy water and imagined him bringing it in here.
  Through this whole time I remembered and imagined my father, the priest.

Me?…a writer?

   Have you ever wanted something so bad that you couldn't stand it? When you wanted it so bad that you dreamed of it? Or that it was a secret that you only told yourself and nobody else?
   Well the thing that I want this bad is to be a writer. I want to write so bad but I don't know if I am good enough to sell books. If I did have this as a job it would be like on of thoughs jobs that you love so much that you never really work a day in your life. But like I said, I don't know is I am good enough to do it. So please, if you read this blog and like it then post a comment. And if you think that I could be a real writer then post a comment on this blog telling me so.

Thanks,
Riley Morris

Life...What We Think And What Should Be Known

   In every life there are challenges. There are times when we feel like giving up because we feel as thought we can't take another step forward. At this point we stop and thing about what we have gone through to make it this far. We think about the ups. Downs. And inside outs. We realize that we have gone through worse to get to where we are now. So we hold our head up and keep moving. But we don't look to the stars for our fate, because as William Shakespeare once said "It is not in the stars to hold our destiny but in ourselves."

A Life Time

There he sat at five,

Under the little oak tree,

With his lolly in hand.

There he sat ninety-five,

Under the very old oak tree,

With his pipe in hand.

The Muddy Glass

  If you are the kind of person that thinks of life as a glass half full then I thank you. But if you think that it is half empty then I thank you as well. But there is one more kind of person that makes life what it is. And that is the kind of person that sees it as a muddy glass and to see things clearer you must wash the glass with questions. So you must ask them. And I am not talking about answerable questions. I mean QUESTIONS! The kind of questions that boggle your mind. The kind of questions that you never forget. The kind that you ask yourself everyday. So now I ask you one...
If you were a bubble would you pop?

Umbrella (haiku)

It is colorful,
It keeps the rain off of me,
It's my umbrella.

A Rose (haiku)

So very fragile,
The petals of a rose,
So very grateful.

The Gift of a Nocence

At times in this world we look at things two ways. We either look at as a "God given gift" or as a nocence to society. Now I try to see things as something that could be, if not already, something that could be amazing. But the problem with this is that everyone has their own opinions about things and if they see it as a nocence then that is what is is and you can't change their mind. They see it as this, if you want to fit in then you must dye your wool white if it is not already. Meaning that if you are an odd ball or if you are a black sheep then you must do all you can to be an identical copy of someone who is normal.