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pjwilson's profile
AGE:
29
LOC: Brunswick, GA
GEN: Male
LAST LOGIN: September 17
LOC: Brunswick, GA
GEN: Male
LAST LOGIN: September 17
Patrick Wilson, who is known as Patric on Writing Wrongs, is an English teacher (by day) at a local Job Corps Center. By night, he is a writer, poet, dancer, and tutor. Patrick has written various articles for numerous University newspapers and currently, he enjoys writing articles for the Writing Wrongs section of The Writers Mafia Site. He also can be found on The Writers Mafia Forum communicating, sharing and giving advice. Growing up as an army brat, Patrick has lived or at least seen just about every state. Currently, he lives in Southeastern Georgia with his lovely wife, whom he met while in high school, a relationship developed and nine-years later they married. They share one cat: her name is Lily. Patrick is attending his 9 cre…
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Billy was a homeless soul; well, half-way near it. Grey painted whatever strings fell from his top; His duds: they’ve seen it; faded colors of the streets he wore. As he stood outside this busy coffee store, Billy watched the Dick’s and Sally’s Come and Go, holding their half-naked mermaid against their middle-class lips, only He wished to taste the calories going to that little, blond cutie’s | in the window| hips. Sippin’ on homemade hobo wine, {whatever that...
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It has been six months since his passing, and for him to see you now he would be frighten. Frighten of whom you’ve become, so where has his lovely wife gone? Has she disappeared into the shadows of a once grieving widow, only to emerge from the darkness and tears a bitter enigma? For that matter, where has their daughter gone? Parents who stay awake at night worrying about her fate. Yet in your heart and mind you demonstrate only hate. To you, their memory, presence, and essence no long...
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Francis Bacon tries to answer or, better yet, propose his own take on titled question. In his essay "Of Truth," Bacon displays his react within the milieu of the 17th century, yet he reintroduces a biblical character to ask the universal question that is still germane today as it was during Bacon's era: "What is truth? said jesting Pilate" (61). Pontius Pilate, who Bacon alludes to here, is the man who interrogated Jesus before his crucifixion (John 18:38). Pilate, obvious...
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It Knows no race, age, gender, or name while it prowls underneath the radiant rays of the sun, or beneath the gleam of a neon moon. It Knows when man is dreaming or aware: A cold friend of mankind! Though it does not care if man is wayward or kind. Therefore, man can hide if he must, or he can seek after it -- if he shall. What man hides from today, he may seek unknowingly tomorrow; for man can only play one part -- so long, so well. Since man can never, never define when it is his time! Wou...
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The last 2,556 nights have been nothing but pure Hades for her. This wasn’t new. What was supposed to be a three-month visit has turned into seven-years of winter. She’s learned to tolerate it as a nightly ritual. Every night she lies like a statue on a bed of sweat and whatever other peculiar, moist, putrid, or gummy fluids one can think of. Every night she grips her once pasty colored sheets that drape off the sides of her mattress to find they’re peppered with tiny holes and red stains. S...
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Overall, your piece works for me. Although you do have some minor stylistics problems, I would be more than happy to enlighten you on some if you choose to e-mail me.
Besides having several petty surface issues, I believe you spit your point across the paper; however, who doesn’t think this way each day? Is there a better angle/hook you can use to make it sound different from the rest? If I want to hear blah, I’ll listen to the newest Rapper.
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Tversity on Your Xbox 360 - How to Stream Videos from Your Computer to a Tv, but is it Worth It?
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Stanza 1: A pleasant opener I do say. I enjoyed the symbolism in lines four and five: “at a knot of tall brown weeds / and sighs.” Your exploit of the word “knot” brings to mind the sentiment of rigidity or disquiet the speaker has and feels as she “looks out [her] window.” Nonetheless, I like how you recede from using dark or black weeds to using “tall brown weeds.” Your audience should distinguish that “brown weeds” do not necessary imply they are dead; conceivably, there is still life in t...
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