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I have chosen the poem above to be my short piece, it fits this category because it is a short piece and I chose it because I knew it could be accompanied by a good visual and it was one of my favorite poems I wrote this year.

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Space

At the moment my world is lacking space. The best way to imagine it is exactly how it is; a home for one person, filled with all of that person’s stuff, then add three more people and all of their essentials.  Your image should be clearly lacking space. Boxes of clothes and toiletries expanded into every corner of these walls. A couch is a couch, but it is also a bed and a desk, and table a chair without enough space everything must go everywhere. No drawers, dressers or counters not one shelf or hooks to spare for a jacket, a book, or a brush for my hair. We have no time to organize because time, although made up, stops for no one. The sun sets and rises without the least bit of consideration to the fact that there isn't enough space nor enough time to make any sense of where to sleep study eat or simply where to step.

f.s.v.w.b.

I have chosen this short memoir as one of my wildcards, and it fits this category because this category can be anything i want it to be. I chose this piece because it is something very real and important to me presently.

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Late July

If my reader really wants to relate

she must be a woman, and a woman I’d prefer

More specifically her reflection

must

have depth

If I was to see a photo of her

in a mirror

I’d like to be able to see her big eyes

and her thoughtful yet blank expression

She absolutely cannot be perfect

I’d like her to have imperfections

A mole, a scar and some

freckles like mine

I’d like it if her hair was freshly clean

and damp, slightly stringy, and sticking to the nape

of her neck. Her skin must be glowing

By the slowly waning light of the afternoon sun

in late July

She is not allowed to be wealthy

Well, okay, I guess she can be

But she cannot

be spoiled or indecisive

She must know the value of what she possesses

And the advantages she has

She must be humble and gracious

And above all else kind

I suppose

however

This is just what I’d like

And then she’d be too similar to me

And often what we want isn’t what we need

So really I’d be open to anyone who will read

my poems

in late July

f.s.v.w.b

Here I have one of the many poems I have picked for the wild card category, I really liked writing this poem and liked he poetry unit in general. This fit the category because i can put whatever I want in it.

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Another poem I chose for a Wild Card, this is a shorter one and I added a picture because I felt the mages in the poem were well accompanied and the picture clearly connected. 

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Opportunities: an original play by: F.S.V.W.B.

Opportunities

Characters:

JENNIFER: Jennifer is an averagely pretty woman in her early 20’s, she’s proudly greek (25%) but lacks olive skin, she has the kind of face that you look at and think “she’s pretty” but nothing special. Her one unique feature is her rich auburn hair which she straightens everyday to erase its natural wave. She has dark brown eyes and thin lips that disappear when she smiles with her perfect teeth. She has a tendency to furrow her eyebrows even when she does not mean to. Her Family is from the East Coast but she lives in California with her sister.

BLAKE: Blake moved from mexico with his parents at age eight, he has light brown hair that falls messily around his Abercrombie model face and has light blue eyes with pupils that never seems to dilate. He’s a professional lifeguard and never passes up a chance to share the story of when he rescued a little girl, or talk about his job at all. Overall he’s a good guy, even though he’s slightly conceited. Smart but never pursued academics his good looks and natural athleticism got him a full ride rowing scholarship to SDSU, he graduated a few years ago and had since given up rowing but occasionally kayaks to compensate.

VIOLA: Viola is half Egyptian and half german. She has tight curly black hair that is almost always pulled back in a voluminous bun. Her skin is the color of dark honey and her eyes a foggy green color. She works a veterinary assistant and hopes to one day run her own animal shelter. She has a laugh you could pick out in a restaurant full of people but it isn’t easy to make her laugh that way. And she has a smile as wide as a smile can be without falling of your face.

CASPIAN: Caspian has always struggled with his identity, he is irish an Japanese and somehow ended up with brown curly hair. He keeps it neatly trimmed because his mother insists, and has inherited her neat-freak trait but it isn't extreme to the point where other people are bothered by it. Caspian loves animals and biking and works as a Sous-chef under his father at their San Francisco restaurant. He likes to draw but int very good and often mumbles when he speaks.

Act I

Scene 1

On a grassy field in a park not far from the water in San Francisco sits two couples  many yards away from each other on separate picnic blankets. They are both on first dates. The whole stage is brightly lit but the lighting fades slowly and a spotlight focuses on the couple under a large tree. They start a conversation.

VIOLA: (Adjusting the way she’s sitting by shifting her weight onto her left arm, lacking words to keep the conversation going she smiles and says hesitantly) So, you said you lifeguard...have any stories?

BLAKE: (Immediately more engaged) Yeah, well I don’t just lifeguard, I am a Lifeguard and for the stories, many, but you’ve gotta hear about this one time…

VIOLA: (Smiles with no teeth encouragingly, even though she’s already heard the story from her friend who set her up with BLAKE, she warned her not to ask, but it was so silent after she mentioned her job she just had to)

BLAKE: ...so it was a nice day and I was at Ocean (beach) just hanging when I noticed something pretty far out in the water. I got up to inspect like any devoted off duty guard would do and I realized it was a little girl…

VIOLA: (Reaches for a hunk of bread to occupy her mouth)

The spotlight fades from VIOLA and BLAKE and another light brightens on the couple nearer to the water.

Scene 2

JENNIFER: (Twirling her hair) But yeah, I just got back from Cape Cod, It’s really breathtaking you should see my family's house there, ooh maybe one day you will (laughs a vibrant girlish laugh)

CASPIAN: Yeah (nervously laughs but corrects himself and politely adds) That would be nice.

JENNIFER: What is it you said you do?

CASPIAN: (For the third time, and this time the most quietly) Sous-chef.

JENNIFER: Ha-sorry what, I couldn't hear you, do you mind speaking up the ocean is so loud. (laughs again at nothing funny, this time with a twinge of annoyance)

CASPIAN: I-I’m a sous-chef at my family’s restaurant.

JENNIFER: Oh (laughs small girlish laugh) that’s cute so you like chop stuff and like put it in pans. (slightly uneasy since she knows nothing of the kitchen besides that food comes out of it)

CASPIAN: Yeah (short breathed laugh) kinda.

The spotlight fades from JENNIFER and CASPIAN and the light brightens on VIOLA and BLAKE

Scene 3

BLAKE: So by the time I get back to the shore the girl’s family has gathered and are thanking me over and over again the little girl was fine but she couldn't have lasted much longer without my help.

VIOLA: (Swallows and hunk of bread she had be chewing) Wow (replies like the wind had just been knocked out of her) that was very vivid, I’m glad she was okay, I know Ocean Beach can be dangerous but that's so real.

BLAKE: Yeah it was no big deal, just another day in the life.

VIOLA: (laughs) Yeah, much more exciting than my daily routine.

BLAKE:  Hey we can't all be heros (he reaches for some grapes and starts eating them off the large bunch with his mouth) Anyways tell me about your (pauses slightly and questions since he didn't listen to her when she mentioned her job the first time)  animals…?

VIOLA: Sure, yeah well I work at the animal hospital a few blocks from here as veterinary assistant. Basically I just help the doctor with surgeries and training the animals and anything else around the clinic really. I really love helping animals. I hope to someday have my own clinic for injured wildlife.

BLAKE: That’s pretty cool, I’m not really an animal person myself but I admire your passion.

The spotlight fades from VIOLA and BLAKE and the light brightens on JENNIFER and CASPIAN

Scene 4

CASPIAN: (hopeful tone) Well I just really love the outdoors and animals and nature stuff like that it makes me feel so alive... you know?

JENNIFER: Mhm I’m more of an indoors person myself but I admire your passion.

CASPIAN: But you like animals?

JENNIFER: Eh (she shrugs)

The spotlight fades quickly from JENNIFER and CASPIAN and then the two spotlights brighten on both couples.

Scene 5

The spotlight goes out over JENNIFER and BLAKE

VIOLA & CASPIAN: (simultaneously in shock at their date) Not even dogs?!

The spotlight slowly fades in on VIOLA and BLAKE

BLAKE: There okay

Blackout on VIOLA and BLAKE simultaneous spotlight on JENNIFER and CASPIAN

JENNIFER: I’m allergic.

CASPIAN: (Confused look) Oh

Scene 6

Blackout. Then slowly the whole stage returns to its original fully lit setting and 20 pretended minutes of mundane forced conversation pass in 20 seconds as a sun ‘sets’ behind them. Then the two couples pack up their stuff and part ways saying that they’ll call but knowing they probably will not.

JENNIFER, BLAKE VIOLA and CASPIAN: (walk off stage in different directions.)

Normal lights fade and a purple light glows dimly then people dressed in all black wheel off the water, grass and tree props and add a bus stop with a bench next to a street lamp. Purple light fades out and the street lamp glows dimly. CASPIAN and VIOLA return onto the stage from different directions approaching the bus stop bench in the center.

VIOLA: (shivers as she nears the bench)

CASPIAN:  (holds a jacket in his arms as he approaches the bench)

Blackout

Here I have my Play, I chose it as my play because it is the only play I’ve written. I actually really enjoyed writing this and have developed a love for playwriting throughout its creation. 

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Surprise! Another wild card another poem. I really like the visual of this poem I found a very blue picture that goes well with the mood. I chose this because it actually wasn't an assignment just something I wrote one day. 

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Matchbox

When it crosses my mind

During any season

I’ll light a candle

For no particular reason

Swiftly swipe

the wooden stick

Grazing the box

with its flammable green tip

Watch it      

Glow

Watch it

Grow

Is it strange to enjoy

the simplistic process

Over a modern toy

No lighter

No fluid

Just me

and the box

Suddenly

Pain

my fingertips hot

quick release of breath

and the feeling subsides

Too soon

he’s gone

Charred

and

Brittle

So sad

he was

so young

so little

And when one falls

I light another

But first I thank him

And later his brother

his cousin

and aunt

for their honorable service

becauae without them

I can't

Light a candle

f.s.v.w.b.

This poem I have selected as one of my Wild Cards, poetry was on of my favorite units and I quite liked the Neruda ode which this is. This poem is longer than many of mine but only because I chose to make very short lines.

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Punctuality

I am hardly ever on time

There seems to be

Always another

Something to do

To find

To forget

& run back

A few minutes spent here or there

leisurely lounging

Completely unaware

My mother asks, “Aren’t you coming?”

“Just one sec,” I falter fumbling

a million

completed

unnecessary tasks

It’s typical I’ll save

the most crucial for last

In my reflection

I check head to toe

and finally

out the door I go

But with my luck

I know I’ll find

Another way

To not be on time

f.s.v.w.b.

This poem I chose for first person Narrative is slightly unique in that it is a sliver of life narrative not a big story. It is written using “I” from my perceive so I believe it counts.

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This Humorous Piece is a dialogue between opposites Dark and Light with a mediator of Dawn. I like the intangibility of the characters and I find it mildly humorous so I chose it.

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I chose this slightly unique 3rd Person Narrative piece in that is isn't a narrative of a person but rather a story from the p.o.v. of a seastar. It is written in 3rd ‘person’ and is a vibrant story I enjoyed writing and reading. I feel the photo behind it brings life and a nice visual to the piece.

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This short story which I have chosen as a memoir really takes me back to a serene time. The day it is about is full of good memories with one of my best friends. It is a good reflection of me and the simplicity I enjoy as well as a nice distraction when I read it from the chaos my life is right now.

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Minna

By: F.S.V.W.B. & A.S.

On my wedding day I carried a photo of my mother and father with me as well as having my adoptive parents walk alongside me. And when the day was over I sat at the bottom of the steps talking to a little girl who was the daughter of a friend’s uncle’s son...or something like that. I sat with her a told her the story of my childhood.

When I was four years old my mom passed away. I lived with my dad in a little house with his carpenter’s shop attached. My dad was often busy and so I usually played in the yard and my the lady next door took watched over me.

I remember my dad was not a good cook. He could make simple things but after eating flapjacks everyday for years my body started to reject them. Now don’t get me wrong we also had bacon, and potatoes among other things and I truly appreciate all my dad was doing I knew he was working hard but I was lonely. I missed my mom and I had few friends besides the ones I made up in my head.

Then one day I came home and found a kitten in my room. He was grey and shiny and reminded me of the smoke that rolled out of the factories I could see some miles away. So I called him smokey. He became by best friend and I loved him very much. My dad loved me so much and always worked hard to keep me happy.

One day my dad came home from somewhere he did not tell me. He was acting strange. That was the day he told me I was no longer a little girl I was a big girl now and didn't need a kiss goodnight. At the time I didn't understand why. But some years ago my parents explained to me he had consumption.

My adoptive parents were good to me and it felt oddly similar to home. I think about my biological mother and father often and I’ve always regretted not waving goodbye one last time to my father. But now I have a new chapter of my life to begin and I am thankful to them for that.

I chose this piece because it was the only Collaborative writing I have done this year so yeah. I dont actually like it that much but what choice do I have.

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Raincloud Series I-VI.i-xxvii

I.i-iv

In a sky as tall as it is wide

there is a view

in which a reclusive raincloud

is the only thing in sight

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II.v-xi

The moon’s opal reflection

shimmers in the shallow

sidewalk lakes

The inky sky, a suiting contrast

Spattering footsteps echo

and suddenly a crack

boom and the raincloud rapid fires

f.s.v.w.b.

III.xii-xiv

Is a raincloud

a blessing or a curse?

I guess it depends

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IV.xv-xviii

When a raincloud sings

it it speaks no words

It just drums on the world

a rattling opera

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V.xix-xxvi

Like milk being poured on tea

The thick raincloud

disperses into fog

and melts

into the mild

Green hills

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VI.xxvi-xxvii

No forceful winds

or wicked floods

Just the reclusive raincloud

Here to quench the parched

f.s.v.w.b.

This Descriptive piece came from the ten ways of looking at something assignment I chose a raincloud and embraced it in ten different ways. However I chose my favorite short poems and conducted the final product to 6 rain cloud poems.

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The Seven Chairs

The Seven Chairs

Artist: Harris Burdick; Author: F.S.V.W.B.

Abel was 10 years old when the teacher strikes in his little town in Northern France left his school abandoned and lack of communication about the incident had left his family uninformed. It was 1962, September, one of the first days when you could feel the cold in the air, a breezy morning. When Abel arrived to his school his simple shoes padded up to the front doors his small hands reached for the heavy wooden doors and he peered inside only to find that it was vacant. He walked inside through the empty halls and the wind whistled through the shuttered windows. Abel wandered the halls collecting books that were strewn about. Finally he came to his classroom he sat in his creaky wooden desk near the window that wouldn’t close fully. He stared up at the chalkboard and allowed the gears in his mind to turn. For months Abel decided to walk to school to greet no teachers nor students, he read his books and practiced his writing and let his parents assume nothing had changed.

When Abel went home at night he’d polish the clogs his father had made that day, read a few chapters of a novel and then go to sleep. It was a particularly cold night in early February when Abel finished one of his many book and satisfied drifted off to sleep. The next morning his parents and five siblings greeted him at his bedside.

“Bon anniversaire mon fils, as-tu oublié? Aujourd'hui est le 9 février.” his mother whispered as she kissed his forehead.

Abel’s lips spread revealing a cheerful smile. His siblings then scurried out of the room and he heard a thump thud and a few hushed giggles then his brothers and sisters returned holding a beautiful wooden chair. They set it down near the doorway and stepped aside.

Abel jumped out of bed to look more closely at it. He ran his fingers along the back of the chair and sat down on the smooth walnut seat.

“Merci beaucoup ma famille je l’aime!” Abel exclaimed.

His family all grinned, wished him happy birthday once more and then left to get ready for their days. As Abel inspected the chair further he traced the intricate details of the legs and followed the swirl in the back spokes with his eager eyes.  Then with his back to the hard floor of his bedroom he slid the chair over his face to explore the underside, there he discovered a large 5 carved onto the under seat and a skinny signature in bright red paint. The language the signature was in was one he was unfamiliar with so the word meant nothing but the five stood out to Abel.

Being the curious boy he was Abel went to his parents the next day before they left for mass and asked where the chair was from. They explained it was from the Saint Thomas Church just outside of town. Not the church they normally went to but on his way to the Paris market his father had seen it outside and got it for Abel.

That day Abel took his little blue bike he had long outgrown and rode through the streets until he got to the church. Abel had not been to church since his first communion. His uncle had died the day before and Abel questioned his faith angrily; he asked how could God do something so cruel, an old man who died alone with no immediate family, a man devoted to the church, a good, honest, giving man.

Abel asked questions like this for throughout his life he was young at heart but as thoughtful and intelligent as anyone.

When Abel arrived in front of the church in was midday and the crowds had since left the hall. The sunlight peaked through the clouds and shone brilliantly through the stained glass windows. He let his bike fall on the patchy grass beside the entrance and climbed the stone steps up to the heavy door. When he reached for the wooden handle it was warm like fresh baked bread. This reminded Abel that he had yet to eat that day and his stomach grumbled. Abel heaved open the solid doors and peered inside.

“Bonjour, est-ce que quelqu'un est ici?” he questioned the empty room.

His voice echoed slightly and as it faded he heard a door in the back creak open.

Then slowly hobbled and old man out of the door

“Es-tu ici au sujet de la chaise?” asked the man

“Oui monsieur je veux savoir, pourquoi est-ce qu’il y a un cinq sur la chaise? Et qui a écrit la signature?” Abel replied

The old man motioned Abel to the pews, and told him a long story of a chairbler from Sicily; The chairbler had made a deal with Circe to help him make 7 magical chairs. The fifth one ended up in France many years ago. When a nun appeared in this very church floating up on the chair the priests thought it was some sort of possession but I could tell she was just as surprised but her appearance as them. She was taken away but before they took the chair I grabbed it and hid it. When I went back for it later it was gone. Just a few weeks ago it seemed to have materialized out of the mist in the morning, I saw it just as a man came and took it. Folk tales say that if you sit on the chair it can take you anywhere. The chairs have been around for centuries so who really knows the truth. It seems however that the chair chooses who finds it. Now it has found you. Use it wisely.

Wise wasn’t a difficult adjective for Abel. So he used the chair very methodically and only ever so often. Since he was lacking a reliable place to learn he decide to use the chair to travel to all sorts of different schools. He learned language, culture and more. Some years later on a foggy evening Abel went to retrieve the chair from its place. But it was gone.

This story I’ve chosen as my Revision piece because, I revised it in great depth. I like this piece because there is a little piece of me in it. My dad’s middle name is Abel and he grew up in a small town in France. The main character really I imagined as my dad as a child so it feels real even with the magic.

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This poem which I have chosen as my poetry for my blog is a great assignment from this semester. It is an unconventional self portait I really  enjoyed writing it and I presented it with a backing of something I love; freckles.