"Creative arts for children" Essays and Research Papers

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    A "Creative Writing" Essay

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    Analyzation of Two Poems Melinda Polom September 12‚ 2013 I will first be giving to you‚ my analyzation of the short poem‚ titled‚ "First Fig"‚ written by author‚ Edna St. Vincent Millay‚ who was born in the year of 1892‚ and died in the year of 1950. I am at first‚ making the assumption that‚ when the author is speaking about a candle‚ which "burns at both ends"‚ that she must be comparing a candle‚ and the "light that it gives out”‚ using the candle‚ as a symbol‚ or as a “representative”

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    The General pretended to sleep‚ hoping no one was watching her. She knew McKenzie’s men were angry with her‚ but they weren’t looking at the whole picture. She slid from her bedroll and snuck around the trees to where the horses were tied up. In the darkness it was hard to see‚ but she finally located her horse and led it away from camp. “And just where do you think you’re going?” A voice sounded loudly behind her. The General clenched her heart as it pumped wildly and spun around‚ staring

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    As the breeze floated through the canopy‚ the forest’s quiet was broken by rustling branches and frantic leaves. When the wind died so did the sound‚ and the forest returned to it’s ghostly silence. For a wooded place‚ usually full of life thrumming together as one both day and night‚ this silence was abnormal. It was foreboding‚ and even in the light of day the woods were cold and dark‚ as if the sun’s rays could not pierce the leafy canvas as it had in the past. The air was heavy and threatening

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    The worst feeling isn’t being lonely. It’s being forgotten by someone you would never forget. ~Unknown Of course‚ I ran. I wanted to confront her as quickly as possible. And get this over as soon as I could. Girls can be really nasty when they want to be and that’s not even the worst case scenario. Just around the corner! I skidded to a stop. What a sight I saw. She stood in the middle of a group of blonde girls (one‚ I assume is actually a brunette) and was surrounded by a swarm of people‚ flocking

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    creative writing, Gothic

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    Briskly walking through the mysterious darkness of the menacing forest‚ grasping tightly my withering frozen hand‚ my petrified newly wed wife clung on for protection. It was pitch dark on a cold foggy night in the mid days of December. We were in search of somewhere to rest our staggering and lost bodies. My wife and I had been walking for miles through this never ending cursed old forest. Every step we made on the thin and almost transparent layer of snow had a sudden fall and we heard the snap

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    I was disappearing again. I could feel it. I could feel the sterile white walls slowly sucking all the colour out of my skin. I could tell that the iron bars covering my window were slathering at the curve of my body. They were tired of always having to stand up straight; they too were slowly taking a part of me. They were taking my outline. The fluorescent light was burning the colour from my hair and the whispers were carrying it away strand by strand. I screamed and screamed for them to stop

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    Modernism Creative writing

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    She awoke with an ache in her neck and the bitter taste of yesterday on her tongue. It was a thursday. Tuesdays had tended been friendly to her‚ thursdays however had never treated her kindly. One of her happiest tuesdays had been near a year before this morning; where after realising that her time of the month hadn’t occurred for over one‚ it was tested and became apparent that she was pregnant. How or why the protection did not function was a mystery to her‚ for in those days she had always

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    Creative Writing Belonging

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    The day arrived. The day I have been dreading for weeks. I knew that today I would have to deal with unwanted tears and emotions of sadness and emptiness running freely throughout my body. Today was the day that everything changed and the whole world around me would collapse. This was the day that I would have to travel 6209.2km across the world. To a place that is foreign and unknown to me but was once a place I used to call home. It was 6:09am in Bahrain. I watched as the large glowing sphere

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    Puddles rippled as the rain dropped down. Lights were flickering on and off and traffic was slower than it was supposed to be. Cars were honking and people yelling. Boom! A lightning bolt went‚ scattering the birds sitting on top of the power line. They flew around in circles‚ but they didn’t just fly in circles anywhere they flew right on top of a wide long alleyway. The alleyway was lit up by the uncovered moon‚ drip drop‚ was all you could hear as it hits the ground‚ but if someone were to listen

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    Creative Writing: Home

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    Mellisa‚ John‚ and Emma are eating dinner at a small round walnut wood table‚ under the yellow shadow. Mellisa and John are engaged and Emma is Mellisa’s best friend. Emma often visits Mellisa on Thursday nights. They are having their favorite dishes‚ steak and wine. “So Emma‚ what are you up to this weekend?” “I’m going to Home Depot‚ I need to fix my door.” “What happened?” “A burglar broke into my house.” “Oh god! Did that vicious thief take anything valuable? Are you okay?” “Fortunately

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