A few years ago, in a land not so far away, there was a princess, called Paloma, who had been shunned by her family. She was sent away alone because she refused to settle for less than she thought she deserved. In truth, the only thing she wanted was the chance to learn all she could about the world outside the kingdom she’d been raised in before her duties as queen took over her life. Her father, the king, repudiated her pleas for higher education, telling her that she should, instead, bide ...

With a wistful smile tugging at her lips, she walked barefoot on the lawn in the early hours of the morning, standing as tall and proud as the worn-out house behind her, half-dreaming, her senses evoking memories of a childhood spent roaming the woods just beyond her vision, her eyes reflecting the hues of the sunrise and her melancholy heart, immersing herself in the sweet scent of the honeysuckle, spring grasses, and sunshine, before returning to her grandmother’s kitchen, seeking out the ...

With a wistful smile tugging at her lips, she walked barefoot on the lawn in the early hours of the morning, standing as tall and proud as the worn-out house behind her, half-dreaming, her senses evoking memories of a childhood spent roaming the woods just beyond her vision, her eyes reflecting the hues of the sunrise and her melancholy heart, immersing herself in the sweet scent of the honeysuckle, spring grasses, and sunshine, before returning to her grandmother’s kitchen, seeking out the ...

Do you close your eyes Relinquishing your sight Hope against hope, day will return Only to awake in endless night Have you ever felt as if No matter where you turn, Nothing will go right for you— They set you up to watch you burn Does the anger flare within you Strangling your dreams Pushing you down with them Drowning out the murky beams Of optimism forgotten Memories not sought Surge to overtake your mind The only Mourners—gone Banished to the deepest corners Do you close your eyes Willing ...

Amanda Dill ENG 3343 30 April 2008 Eggs…er, Food for Thought Chickens tend to dislike having people poke around in their nests, stealing their precious eggs, their future children. I suppose I’d feel the same way, if our roles were reversed, but they aren’t, and I happen to like omelets. My first memory of my childhood begins inside a chicken coop, the musty smell of hay and feathers clogging up my nose and mouth, my head filled with images of little chicken heads and sharp, tiny beaks. It’s ...

Chickens tend to dislike having people poke around in their nests, stealing their precious eggs, their future children. I suppose I’d feel the same way, if our roles were reversed, but they aren’t, and I happen to like omelets. My first memory of my childhood begins inside a chicken coop, the musty smell of hay and feathers clogging up my nose and mouth, my head filled with images of little chicken heads and sharp, tiny beaks. Every time I see a chicken, even a cartoon representation, this me...

Is it so hard? Is it so hard To be civil to one another? Is it so hard To put differences aside? Is it so hard To look beyond stereotypes? I wonder Why we fight with each other, Why we kill each other, Why we subject our children to Things they should never have to see. I wonder Why we can't each try, Why we can't allow any dissonance in our lives, Why we have to keep our true selves hidden Then bicker endlessly when the right to own that self is removed. Is it so hard To be who we are? Why i...

When you're lying there alone at night, Don't think about me. If you find yourself wonderin' if I'm alright, Don't think about me. Should you find some empty space in your heart, Don't think about me. Don't think about me at all-- And whatever you do, please don't fall In love with me. It's no good for you, no good for us-- Just keep on goin' with the way it was, Because if you don't, I'll have to run And I don't want to lose you. So whatever you might be thinkin' now, It's best to just forge...

With a wistful smile tugging at her lips, she walks barefoot on the lawn in the early hours of the morning, standing as tall and proud as the worn-out house behind her, half-dreaming, her senses evoking memories of a childhood spent roaming the woods just beyond her vision, her eyes reflecting the hues of the sunrise and her melancholy heart, immersing herself in the sweet scent of the honeysuckle, spring grasses, and sunshine, before returning to her grandmother’s kitchen, seeking out the wa...