The other day, Dianne Odegard, from Bat Conservation International, visited my Nature & the Quest for Meaning to discuss bats. After giving a PowerPoint presentation about the myths and misconceptions of bats, Dianne asked us to create poetry about the winged beasts. She challenged us to team up with the person next to us and create a haiku about the unusual mammals and submit them to the Bat Conservation website afterwards.

Haikus use a structure composed of 3 lines, the first and last lines containing 5 syllables and the middle line containing 7. These are some of the haikus that my classmates and I constructed.

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I can be green. I can be brown.
I can look colorful or dull.
Not only can I come in different colors, I can also come in different shapes.
In the water or on the land, I can live just about anywhere!
Though no matter where I live, I always have my home on my back,
Allowing me to take life slowly as I please.
What am I?

Highlight or double-click for the answer.
Answer: [ Turtle ]

< What Am I? #5 |

I am always served at a table,
Usually of 2, but sometimes of 4.
I am always small with a pearly exterior.
What am I?

Highlight for the answer.
Answer: [ PingPong Ball ]

< What Am I? #4 | What Am I? #6 >

"Veiled in Secrets" by Noelle Brooks

“Veiled in Secrets” by Noelle Brooks

Given the assignment in English 3 AP to write a poem giving ourselves a name that describes something about ourselves such as “Eats Too Much” or “Smiles When Sad,” I wrote this poem describing my hidden insecurities about life. We were told to decorate our assignment to be hung on the classroom wall, so I used my Photoshop abilities to make it all pretty. 😀 If you can’t see the image, the written poem follows.

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Grasping her ears with her dirty hands, Nadia watched the dark brown plates covering the dragon’s vulnerable throat quiver as the sound waves passed. The obstreperous boom pierced through her head, causing her to scream aloud with clenched eyes as she spun from a loss of balance. After the beast had completed its roar, it turned its long neck to stare directly into the girl’s frightened face. His bright blue eyes glowed in contrast from the golden scales that covered his body and seemed to reveal no feeling of warmth. His face bore a twisted snarl, revealing a few of his carnivorous teeth as he continued to give a cold stare to the child, intently scrutinizing her. Two, dark brown ram-like horns twisted around the creatures head, pointing forward near the dragon’s cheeks, matching the plates that covered his throat and stomach. His four, short, powerful legs held up his monstorous body with pride as he spread his leathery wings behind his back to appear intimidating. The dark veins flowed through the thin, brown membrane of his wings like rivers on a map as he flexed them as far as they could stretch. The gray claws that potruded from the wings’ tips gleamed in the fire’s light along with the five claws that were unsheathed about the creature’s hands.

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This was the first assignment I was given in this little class I attended at the Public Library. Read a few paragraphs from the book, Cold Mountain, describing this goat woman, and rearranged the words to form a poem, throwing in a few of my own here and there.

Living so remote,
The woman observes the world with blue eyes, still bright.
The contentious world but a fading memory,
As is she.
Her mind still grasping a picture of herself some decades previous,
Only grooming her long, pale, cobweb hair by feel,
Never glancing at her reflection.
Only the sagging, puckering folds of hide about her eyes and jowls
Meet her fingertips and brindle across her brow.
With pink cheeks and a mind turned only toward God’s finer productions,
She lives, unaware of the relic she’s become.

Another poem…I know I am not the best poet, but this was an assignment, and I was just thinking…So, here you go. 🙂

There is a place that only he and I know of…
Our place and no one else’s.
It resides deep in the forest,
Waiting there, alone and hidden.
Birds sing sweetly around with chirps and tweets.
Squirrels explore, climbing about the many trees.
Insects live, constantly moving about.
In this place, there is a bench, aged and lonely.
It has heard many songs composed by the birds,
It has felt many fingers caress its wooden surface,
It has offered a place to rest to many explorers.
With a rough exterior, formed from experiences,
It finds comfort in the forest, hidden from the world.
In this place, many memories reside.
A few of our own have been added,
Unseen and unheard to all, but us.
Warm feelings of joy have been felt here.
Sweet fragrances of the crimson petals and ferns fill our souls and lighten our hearts.
A breeze sweeps through and whispers across my skin,
Tickling me with its cool, soft breath.
This wind, untamed and free to roam, gently persuades the trees from side to side,
Allowing them to sing out through creaks and moans.
This place is our place…
Shielding our memories and keeping them safe,
Until the next time we return with smiles upon our faces,
Remembering and reliving…

"I Need a Hug" by Noelle Brooks

“I Need a Hug” by Noelle Brooks

Not sure if you’ve heard…It feels like I’ve told the story a hundred times by now, but I guess I’ll just quickly paraphrase it or something. I really, really need to talk to somebody, but I can’t and I need to write a story for tomorrow’s meeting, so I guess I’ll just write this. Anyways, one of my best friends who I haven’t seen in years called me yesterday. She was in tears and told me of this horrifically terrible thing that happened to her. She’s dropping out of school, leaving her family, and was asking if she can come live with me. She wants to move cross-country to here and finish her last year of high school here at Minot High. The cops are looking into everything and she’s alive, so it’s not all bad, but it’s still…and the worst thing for me is that she told me not to tell anybody, so I’m keeping my promise. But it hurts…

I had to draw this picture to clear my head, (and even that didn’t help)…I physically couldn’t do anything else. So this story is basically one of my rants in disguise…

So this little short story will be about my rabid undead saluki, Rohashi. Know nothing about him? Please go read his story.

Rohashi’s Webpage

“Hey, Rohashi…” I heard some one say with an exasperated sigh from behind me. Without glancing back I continued to stare forward at the ocean spread out in front of me. I was resting in the sand beneath a few trees, but I couldn’t feel the sand’s comforting warmth or the refreshing shade from the sun. Within the slight dim of the trees I faintly gave a turquoise glow.

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Read more at Rohashi’s Webpage

Aboard a Ship

Aboard a Ship

You are slightly persuaded from side to side as the gentle waves rock the humble pirate ship that you stand upon. A distinct scent of salt lingers in the air from the ocean below and the sunbeams down from the cloudless sky. As the waves wash upon the rough sand of the beaches, they create tranquil sounds that accompany the crashing of the water against the rocks of the cove. Seagulls cry overhead, adding to the ocean’s symphony. Sails peacefully flap above you as a gentle breeze brushes against your face, whispering pirate songs in your ear that send a slight shiver down your spine. Although the tropical setting is relaxing, you feel a slight sense of fear with each new breath.

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At one of our meetings, Shaundra created a contest where she gave each person a strange item and a strange goal. My prompt was hairnets and to create the “uncommon cold.” I spent my entire day yesterday on this and put aside homework, so it’s not all that great, but at least I got it done. 🙂 My story placed somewhere around 4th to 6th place out of 6 entries.

Day 1: It has come! After many years of careful planning and researching, the day has finally come for me to put my plan into action! I have worked through many sleepless nights to create this monstrosity, and I think that I have perfected it! Soon I will have the world’s most deadly weapon in my possession and I will have the entire population in my grasp!

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I found an online poetry contest thing and although I haven’t written poetry for years as I’m not very good in that area, I decided to give it a shot just because I don’t have much time for anything else right now. I recently found out that I am pretty good with iambic pantameter though… I managed to scribble this down while I was babysitting today just thinking over some things…Also, note that I have no idea how punctuation in poetry works.

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I can appear to sweep and sway in a varied motion.
Mystery and wonder always seem to follow me.
I can appear gray to some and blue to others.
I can roll although I am not solid.
Only from a distance can I be viewed.
However you may chase me, I am always just a bit ahead.
Swamps and other humid places are what I normally call home.
What am I?

Highlight for the answer.
Answer: [ Fog/Mist ]

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