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I arise to the sound of bluebirds singing a sweet melodic tune outside of my bedroom window. I stretch and yawn as my maid, Clara, comes rushing into the room. As Clara pulls open the curtains sunlight illuminates my room and reflects off of the tiny dust particles floating around, making them look like starlight. I could just sit here in this tranquil place and watch life go by me forever. Unfortunately I cannot. I sit up and watch Clara as she runs around the room in an unorderly fashion picking up clothes and jewellery I flung across the floor last night. I came storming in here utterly frustrated at Mother and Father after the discussion we had after dinner and and how I am old enough now to be accepted into society and find a husband.
I watch my maid for ten minutes longer as she assesses my gown she had picked out for me to wear today. It is white with blue flowers embroidered all over the skirt. The bodice was simple yet elegant with blue lace climbing up like the roses that scale the walls of our courtyard. The sleeves come all the way down to my wrist and fan out at the bot...
The dress was adorned with ruffles all the way around the top of the sweet-heart neckline and sleeves, and also all along the bottom. The garment also had multiple layers. One layer was of a lavender color. There was also a layer on top of that, which was made of a more sheer-material and had stripes of off-white and lavender. This second layer was subtle enough to add shiny detail, without taking away from the beautiful purple color. The dress also had a sash of the second layer’s same material, around the waist. My garment was rich in
“It was a large, beautiful room, rich and picturesque in the soft, dim light which the maid had turned low. She went and stood at an open window and looked out upon the deep tangle of the garden below. All the mystery and witchery of the night seemed to have gathered there amid the perfumes and the dusky and tortuous outlines of flowers and foliage. She was seeking herself and finding herself in just such sweet half-darkness which met her moods. But the voices were not soothing that came to her from the darkness and the sky above and the stars. They jeered and sounded mourning notes without promise, devoid even of hope. She turned back into the room and began to walk to and fro, down its whole length, without stopping, without resting. She carried in her hands a thin handkerchief, which she tore into ribbons, rolled into a ball, and flung from her. Once she stopped, and taking off her wedding ring, flung it upon the carpet. When she saw it lying there she stamped her heel upon it, striving to crush it. But her small boot heel did not make an indenture, not a mark upon the glittering circlet.
In Gwendolyn Brook’s Kitchenette Building the audience is able to see her unique writing style by taking her own life experiences and creating a poem that can s...
My mind started to wonder though each room of the house, the kitchen where mom used to spend every waking hour in. The music room where dad maintained the instrument so carefully like one day people would come and play them, but that day never came, the house was always painfully empty. The house never quite lived to be the house my parents wanted, dust bunnies always danced across the floor, shelves were always slightly crooked even when you fixed them. My parents were from high class families that always had some party to host. Their children were disappointments, for we
The Hawaiian sun beats down on my skin, warming and basking my arms in its radiance. I took a deep breath and detected a sweet, flowery perfume wafting out of a small booth which was completely covered in different beaming colored garlands of all sorts. There were yellow ones, and pink ones, and red ones, and just about every color in the rainbow. I rushed over to the stall and selected a pink, white, and yellow garland that smelled so
At the beginning of the story Arlene and her daughter, Champ, are at K-Mart. Arlene is looking for makeup and hair dye that will go with a dress that she is borrowing. This is where Viramontes first uses the phrase “it sounds right”. Now think, will this color go good with Pancha’s blue dress? – Pancha is Arlene’s comadre. Since Arlene has a special date tonight, she lent Arlene her royal blue dress that she deeps in a plastic bag at the end of her closet. The dress is made of chiffon, with satin-like material underlining, so that when Arlene first tried it on and strutted about, it crinkled sounds of elegance. The dress fits too tight. Her plump arms squeeze through, her hips breathe in and hold their breath, the seams do all they can to keep the body contained. But Arlene doesn’t care as long as it sounds right. (1-526 ) Here is a woman who tries on a dress that makes her feel young and beautiful. And, takes her back in my opinion to a time that outer beauty came naturally.
It was then that I remembered the usual thing, when I said to her: "Eyes of a blue dog." Without taking her hand off the lamp she said to me: "That. We'll never forget that." She left the orbit, sighing: "Eyes of a blue dog. I've written it everywhere." I saw her walk over to the dressing table. I watched her appear in the circular glass of the mirror, looking at me now at the end of a back and forth of mathematical light. I watched her keep on looking at me with her great hot-coal eyes looking at me while she opened the little box covered with pink mother of pearls.
The blocks of concrete sidewalk in between two rusty, red brick buildings prickle my skin. I lay out my piece of brown corrugated cardboard and am comforted by its smoothness. It provides insulation on a breezy summer night. I curl up, cramped, in the fetal position; my limbs grow limp as my eyelids weigh down over two chocolate eyes. I can feel my fuzzy black dreadlocks falling down the nape of my neck and into the collar of my thin cotton t-shirt. I pull my white tube socks up to my knees with the help of my toes; only the space between them and the bottom of my shorts is now left uncovered and open to the wind. I deliberately position myself in an attempt to conserve energy before morning comes and invites my stomach to turn into a ferocious growling beast. The storeowner will harp about me finding another stoop by prodding my body with a cobweb-infested broom. I will worry about that tomorrow. For now, I escape into a deep, silent slumber. I begin to dream of another life with a different social setting.
It was just after 10 o’clock when his fury burst through the wall that separated my bedroom from the living room. I recognized the voice, but not the anger. I knew full well that it was my father yelling, but I had never heard him so upset. Being the oldest and most responsible of my siblings, I had to go see what was going on. I tiptoed down the hallway and gingerly stepped out of the shadows and into the dim lighting of the living room. My eyes shot to my mom who was sitting in her recliner, red-faced, and wiping away tears with a handful of Kleenex. Then I saw my father, quickly sitting back in his chair as if everything were perfectly normal. “Having trouble sleeping?” he a...
Ow. My head hurts. It has been lying against this wall for at least an hour now. I scratched the back of my head to move around my dark, curly hair. It was beginning to feel plastered against my scalp. It was a bit tangled from not brushing it for a day and my fingers did not run through it with ease; nevertheless, it felt good to keep the blood flowing. I was lying on a thin, light blue mat on the floor. My head was propped up against the cold wall as if it were a concrete pillow. My chin dug into my chest and I could feel the soft, warm material from my sleeveless sweater cushioning my jaw. I looked down. I could see the ends of my hair cascading over my shoulders. The red highlights matched quite nicely with my maroon sweater. My arms were folded over my belly and they appeared more pale than usual. My knees were bent, shooting upward like two cliffs. My baggy blue jeans covered the backs of my fake brown leather shoes. ("Christy, let me borrow your pants, the baggy ones with the big pockets. I can hide more stuff in those.")
Shannon heard her stepfather coming up the stairs and quickly raced for the closet where she had already prepared her hiding place. Huddled under a pile of clothing, she listened as he came closer. He stopped as he entered the room and she knew he would be surprised to find her bed empty. He must be trying to figure out where to look next. Her heart pounded so hard she thought he must surely be able to hear it and she scarcely breathed as he stopped outside the closet door. Opening it slowly he looked inside but seemed unable to see her as he closed it and walked into another room. He called her name but she lay motionless until she heard him on the stairs. After a few more drinks he would pass out in front of the TV but afraid he might come back, she waited until she heard her mother come home from work. She slowly and quietly opened the closet door and tiptoed back to bed. Sleep did not come.
The sight is wonder for the eyes, as you cross each little section of flowers. As we continued through, you can see the hard work put into the garden. Each detail and sections are taken with ...
Her eyes shined like a glossy pearl just washing on a shore of black sand with the warm rays of the sun shining down on it. Lips of bright cherry red went well with the tight black dress she was wearing. The light hit her just right so you could see every luscious curve of her body. She smelled like an ocean breeze coming in to the shore. Just try to imagine the perfect most beautiful woman you have ever seen in your life and times that by ten fold. Absolute perfection on high heals.
The dark, black sky was covered with a million bright shining stars. The moon shimmered above a small town in the suburbs of London. The gentle wind swept past the bare trees and danced with the leaves below it, creating a colourful array of orange, yellow, red and brown. Across the street, a light was on in a small house where a tall, dark haired woman stood, talking to her two children Nicola and Erin. While she was tucking them in Erin asked, “Mummy, will you tell us a story please?” “I’m sorry but its time to go to sleep now,” she said. “Please mummy,” begged Nicola “Okay but only one story,” she replied “This story is about how I got lost when I was a young girl and how I met an incredible man. It all began when…”
It was on a Friday morning at 4:30 A.M. that happiness and joy filled the hearts of both my parents. I was born on November 29, 1996 at Broward General Hospital in Fort Lauderdale Florida. My parents had five children, and among the five children that they had, I was the third (or middle) child from them. It started off as two boys, then I came along as the first girl, after it was another boy, then finally, another baby girl; so total was three boys and two girls. The way that my parents lived and treated each other was the same as if any other married couple that loved each other so much. They’ve gone through a lot to get to where they are now today, but they made it and along the way had us five children. They have been really strong with each other which made them only have the five of us and no other step children. My mom is a great cook and enjoy cooking for us; this is probably where my passion for culinary comes from. My dad is an amazing tailor, he is very good at making our clothes, and my passion for fashion probably came from him. My dad is also a teacher, one of the best math teacher I know, he is passionate about his job and his family is the center of his universe. I cannot finish this chapter without mentioning my grandmother, I was lucky enough to have ever met. I had spent part of my life time with her, like the rest of the family she is sweet, my grandmother Abelus,