Sunday, November 23, 2014
Five Goofy Ways of Looking at a Badminton Racket
Up and down the racket weaves with her grace,
boldly cutting through the air with ease like a stealthy rapier.
One, two, and a swish to the right and upward,
the birdie flies! The birdie flies, flies, flies.
Baseball, tennis, fencing, bound by bonds in the racket.
A switch sidewards,
racket turns banjo, strumming out three, four even five tunes!
Pancakes, waffles, omelettes, bacon!
Horizontal, a griddle the racket becomes!
Cooking up birdies with a sizzle and a snap,
a sight to behold in a grand chef's hand.
A match begins upon the majestic heights,
the game starts in the cold deep waters.
Birdies fly among the great eagles, soaring onwards to eastern skies,
the racket swims among the northern sea creatures, stirring no crested waves.
Friday, May 23, 2014
Mirror
Just as an introduction, this poem is about God's law, how it shows our sinfulness and is meant to point us to Jesus. I wrote it last year for an English class and hope you enjoy it.
The book is opened here and now,
What lies I've told and men disowned.
Laughed, as I myself enthroned.
Rolled in filth like wretched sow.
With stubborn heart refused to bow.
Repentance was too oft postponed.
Sinful ways I have condoned.
How can I be saved oh Lord, how can I be saved, oh how?
We all lie depraved.
The minister preaches,
and tells us about what our God teaches.
That if we believe in Jesus, we all shall be saved!
Oh what good news, what good news I say!
For He saved we who were just traitor clay.
The book is opened here and now,
What lies I've told and men disowned.
Laughed, as I myself enthroned.
Rolled in filth like wretched sow.
With stubborn heart refused to bow.
Repentance was too oft postponed.
Sinful ways I have condoned.
How can I be saved oh Lord, how can I be saved, oh how?
We all lie depraved.
The minister preaches,
and tells us about what our God teaches.
That if we believe in Jesus, we all shall be saved!
Oh what good news, what good news I say!
For He saved we who were just traitor clay.
Friday, March 14, 2014
The Man in Blackberry Forest- A Story for Gr. 10 English
The Man in Blackberry Forest by Josiah
Max glared.
"He is a chicken isn't he?" Jack remained calm and said in an even voice:
"No, it's stupid. I'm not going to risk my life for your satisfaction."
"Come on, he probably doesn't even live there anymore," said Max.
"I don't care. I don't mind going in there during the day but there is no
way I'm heading in there after nightfall."
"You private school kids are all the same. Bunch of wimps."
Jack's eyebrows slanted downward.
"If you're not going to do it why should I?"
"Shut up Jack. You're more afraid than I am."
Jack gave a sigh. He had had enough of this.
"Fine, I'll do it. But if this is some kind of prank, I'll make sure every kid
in your school finds out what you did last summer. Understood?"
"Whatever..." mumbled Max under his breath, trying to appear
nonchalant. Then he added: "See you at ten, if you're
man enough to show up."
"So be it," said Jack with a grim face.
Jack walked home underneath the cherry trees of Old Yale Road, his
nervousness and determination clashing in his mind like two enraged stags in
the leaves of autumn. There was no backing down. If he chickened out now
he would undoubtedly be the laughing stock of his school when Max told
everyone at the next football game.
Hours later he slowly got out of bed, his stomach rumbling with anxiety
and his mind racing through all the possibilities. His parents didn't hear the
front door open as their son rushed off into the night on a wild quest to
preserve his sanity and underlying that, though he didn't want to admit it
himself, his honour. Jack moved from shadow to shadow, trying as hard as
possible to make sure nobody would see him. The streetlights overhead were
not on his side.
After a few minutes of this the boy finally managed to ditch
the road and veer off into a space between the James Hill School and the
backyard fences of the people living on Mulberry Street.
Just when we thought he was safe a bright light dug through the
blackness to reveal a gaunt, angry old man (the janitor but Jack could not
have known this for he did seem rather un-janitor-like in his apparel) standing
against the school gym, and tapping his foot.
"Come here boy."
Jack went with his gut and ran, ran, ran, ran, ran, ran until his lungs were
about to collapse and his feet felt like they were about to fall off. This was
why he never ventured into the night, past his safe front door, into the bleak
shadow world beyond. One was quick to find strange things in the dark when
one was searching. He felt like quitting. But there was one thing we couldn't
help but enjoy about this adventure he was taking, despite the close call. And
that was simply that it was, indeed, an adventure. It seemed like he hadn't had
one in ages and he had just about forgotten what it felt like.
And so, the cautious wanderer began to walk the path that lead to what
was known locally as "Blackberry Forest," a land of legend and danger, of
witches and werewolves, and things that go bump in the night and at the
center of it all, a mysterious homeless man whowas thought to be a sorcerer
who lured kids into the woods and ate them.
"Boo!" whispered a voice from behind Jack`s right shoulder. He felt a
feeling of dread and remorse for coming seep into his bones. He turned
around to face his near-certain demise only to see a slightly amused Max
smiling smugly at him from a nearby stump. The grass stalk in his mouth
wobbled as he scrambled over to where Jack was standing. "Well it's about
time," he said. "You know what to do. Follow the Main Trail until you come
to Dead Crow Junction, then head west on the Fort Trail until you come to
Poison Ivy. The Beggar's Pit is just beyond. Now recite the actual dare to
me."
Jack's lip trembled just a little, giving him a hint of a stutter as he spoke.
The darkness wrapped around them both and they had to squint to see each
others outlines.
"I have to stay at Beggars Pit for twenty minutes without saying a
word and light a small fire."
"No."
"What? But that's what we agreed to!"
"You also have to mark all the nearest trees with this knife."
"Fine."
Jack grabbed the knife and walked deeper into the evil heart of the
forest. Every shadow seemed to be a ghoul reaching for him. Every rise in
ground, seemed to be hiding some foul beast behind it, preparing to pounce
on him silently. Even the trees themselves seemed rather hostile. Branches full
of needles racked across his body as he navigated the rough path. Blackberry
thorns added to the misery, scraping at his legs and arms with ferocity.
Jack was glad when he finally came across Dead Crow Junction. It was
named this because three or fear years back a dead bird was found at the
exact spot, said to have died of a disease that no creature who entered this
coniferous fortress was immune to. The stagnant water on the far side was
said to be the main cause although some still doubted that.
After making the turn, Jack came face to face with the large fallen tree
commonly known as "the fort." The only way past was over or under. The
various pop and beer cans underneath rang loudly as Jack's foot accidentally
plowed through them. He stood very still for what felt like at least a half hour
until he was sure no one had heard him.
A little ways further and he hit Poison Ivy trail. The woods had a
different character over here. It was hard to describe the differences between
various parts of the woods but this part felt more grim and foreign.
And just ahead of him, lying there in wait, was Beggars Pit. Most people,
like Max, had only ever heard of the place. He had found out the location
only from rumours and reports.
The adventurous fellow carefully made his way through the trees
separating the pit from the trail. The lighter he had with him burst into flames
at his touch and he lit the small bundle of sticks and grass he had
gathered. After that he took out the knife and marked every tree with a single
notch. And then he sat down.
Jack thought he saw a flicker of movement and looked up. There was
Max.
"Hello Jack."
"Max, what are you doing here?"
"I forgot to mention one small thing about the man in Blackberry
Forest."
"What is it?"
"I am that man."
Max glared.
"He is a chicken isn't he?" Jack remained calm and said in an even voice:
"No, it's stupid. I'm not going to risk my life for your satisfaction."
"Come on, he probably doesn't even live there anymore," said Max.
"I don't care. I don't mind going in there during the day but there is no
way I'm heading in there after nightfall."
"You private school kids are all the same. Bunch of wimps."
Jack's eyebrows slanted downward.
"If you're not going to do it why should I?"
"Shut up Jack. You're more afraid than I am."
Jack gave a sigh. He had had enough of this.
"Fine, I'll do it. But if this is some kind of prank, I'll make sure every kid
in your school finds out what you did last summer. Understood?"
"Whatever..." mumbled Max under his breath, trying to appear
nonchalant. Then he added: "See you at ten, if you're
man enough to show up."
"So be it," said Jack with a grim face.
Jack walked home underneath the cherry trees of Old Yale Road, his
nervousness and determination clashing in his mind like two enraged stags in
the leaves of autumn. There was no backing down. If he chickened out now
he would undoubtedly be the laughing stock of his school when Max told
everyone at the next football game.
Hours later he slowly got out of bed, his stomach rumbling with anxiety
and his mind racing through all the possibilities. His parents didn't hear the
front door open as their son rushed off into the night on a wild quest to
preserve his sanity and underlying that, though he didn't want to admit it
himself, his honour. Jack moved from shadow to shadow, trying as hard as
possible to make sure nobody would see him. The streetlights overhead were
not on his side.
After a few minutes of this the boy finally managed to ditch
the road and veer off into a space between the James Hill School and the
backyard fences of the people living on Mulberry Street.
Just when we thought he was safe a bright light dug through the
blackness to reveal a gaunt, angry old man (the janitor but Jack could not
have known this for he did seem rather un-janitor-like in his apparel) standing
against the school gym, and tapping his foot.
"Come here boy."
Jack went with his gut and ran, ran, ran, ran, ran, ran until his lungs were
about to collapse and his feet felt like they were about to fall off. This was
why he never ventured into the night, past his safe front door, into the bleak
shadow world beyond. One was quick to find strange things in the dark when
one was searching. He felt like quitting. But there was one thing we couldn't
help but enjoy about this adventure he was taking, despite the close call. And
that was simply that it was, indeed, an adventure. It seemed like he hadn't had
one in ages and he had just about forgotten what it felt like.
And so, the cautious wanderer began to walk the path that lead to what
was known locally as "Blackberry Forest," a land of legend and danger, of
witches and werewolves, and things that go bump in the night and at the
center of it all, a mysterious homeless man whowas thought to be a sorcerer
who lured kids into the woods and ate them.
"Boo!" whispered a voice from behind Jack`s right shoulder. He felt a
feeling of dread and remorse for coming seep into his bones. He turned
around to face his near-certain demise only to see a slightly amused Max
smiling smugly at him from a nearby stump. The grass stalk in his mouth
wobbled as he scrambled over to where Jack was standing. "Well it's about
time," he said. "You know what to do. Follow the Main Trail until you come
to Dead Crow Junction, then head west on the Fort Trail until you come to
Poison Ivy. The Beggar's Pit is just beyond. Now recite the actual dare to
me."
Jack's lip trembled just a little, giving him a hint of a stutter as he spoke.
The darkness wrapped around them both and they had to squint to see each
others outlines.
"I have to stay at Beggars Pit for twenty minutes without saying a
word and light a small fire."
"No."
"What? But that's what we agreed to!"
"You also have to mark all the nearest trees with this knife."
"Fine."
Jack grabbed the knife and walked deeper into the evil heart of the
forest. Every shadow seemed to be a ghoul reaching for him. Every rise in
ground, seemed to be hiding some foul beast behind it, preparing to pounce
on him silently. Even the trees themselves seemed rather hostile. Branches full
of needles racked across his body as he navigated the rough path. Blackberry
thorns added to the misery, scraping at his legs and arms with ferocity.
Jack was glad when he finally came across Dead Crow Junction. It was
named this because three or fear years back a dead bird was found at the
exact spot, said to have died of a disease that no creature who entered this
coniferous fortress was immune to. The stagnant water on the far side was
said to be the main cause although some still doubted that.
After making the turn, Jack came face to face with the large fallen tree
commonly known as "the fort." The only way past was over or under. The
various pop and beer cans underneath rang loudly as Jack's foot accidentally
plowed through them. He stood very still for what felt like at least a half hour
until he was sure no one had heard him.
A little ways further and he hit Poison Ivy trail. The woods had a
different character over here. It was hard to describe the differences between
various parts of the woods but this part felt more grim and foreign.
And just ahead of him, lying there in wait, was Beggars Pit. Most people,
like Max, had only ever heard of the place. He had found out the location
only from rumours and reports.
The adventurous fellow carefully made his way through the trees
separating the pit from the trail. The lighter he had with him burst into flames
at his touch and he lit the small bundle of sticks and grass he had
gathered. After that he took out the knife and marked every tree with a single
notch. And then he sat down.
Jack thought he saw a flicker of movement and looked up. There was
Max.
"Hello Jack."
"Max, what are you doing here?"
"I forgot to mention one small thing about the man in Blackberry
Forest."
"What is it?"
"I am that man."
Tuesday, March 4, 2014
Poetry- Night Garden
The day is done,
the birds have stilled their song.
The moon rises o'er the waters,
studded with the stars of bygone years.
Up above the hum of an airplane heard
off to some foreign place, where no one knows our night.
The sun but a dim memory, the brook gurgles,
seemingly louder than all the crickets in the fields below.
What is this place, so different, so dark, so peaceful?
A shadow emerges and offers a gentle hand.
"Hello, I am the night."
the birds have stilled their song.
The moon rises o'er the waters,
studded with the stars of bygone years.
Up above the hum of an airplane heard
off to some foreign place, where no one knows our night.
The sun but a dim memory, the brook gurgles,
seemingly louder than all the crickets in the fields below.
What is this place, so different, so dark, so peaceful?
A shadow emerges and offers a gentle hand.
"Hello, I am the night."
Sunday, February 23, 2014
Someone Else's Shoes
This is a cheesy story I made a while back as part of an English assignment.
Write On! - Josiah
It was Saturday in Big Town and Billy and Gunter were playing baseball
with their friends Jim, Bob, Fred, Hans, and Ivan like they did every Saturday
after all their chores were done.
"Strike one!" yelled Ivan. He didn't say "strike" again because Gunter
suddenly hit the ball very hard. It went flying all the way past the benches and
the fence. Fred ran and ran but he could not catch it. Gunter ran around the
field and got a home run.
"Awww come on Gunter," said Hans. "Poor Fred didn't stand a
chance." Fred came up to them laughing.
"It's alright! I didn't mind, really." Billy checked his watch.
"I reckon it's nearly four o'clock. Why don't we go biking now?" Billy
did not like baseball. He always missed the ball.
" No, biking is stupid," said Jim. "Baseball is way better, right guys?"
The other boys didn't know what to say. Jim was nearly a head taller than
most of the other boys so they were scared to say that they wouldn't mind
going biking.
"Yeah, baseball is way better!" one of them yelled. "Biking is for sissies,
Billy." They made Billy sad. He sat down on a bench and watched them play
for another hour before everyone headed home for dinner.
Jim came home tired and laughing. He was glad they didn't go biking.
"Hello Jim! It's about time you came home, your supper's nearly gone
cold." Jim quickly sat down and started eating.
"Anything new at the old baseball diamond, son?" said Jim's father.
"Nope. Billy wanted to go biking but I told him that was stupid and we
should keep playing baseball." Jim's mom and dad looked at him.
"What?" said Jim.
"You know Billy can't play baseball well, Jim! How would you feel if
everyone always went biking when you wanted to play baseball?"
"I, I, I guess I didn't think of that..."
"And just last week he was nice enough to buy you a nickel's worth of
candy from Mr. Jones!"
"Yeah, you're right! He did, didn't he?!"
"Son, I think you should make it up to him next Saturday. The poor
fellow doesn't have many friends in these parts and he can't play sports
very well. Just give him a chance." Jimmy felt bad now. He knew he should
have been nicer to Billy. After all, they spent nearly six hours that day playing
baseball, so he could handle an hour of biking for Billy.
The next few days went by fast. Jim found out it happened to be Billy's
birthday on Saturday and that he wasn't having a party since he had no close
friends yet.
Jim made up a plan. Together the boys would have a surprise birthday
party for Billy and go biking together.
Saturday morning at 10 o'clock Billy came to the baseball diamond. He
thought he was late but no one was there! He turned around.
"Surprise!" All the boys were sitting on their bikes. "Happy birthday
Billy!"
"You guys want to go biking? With... with me?"
"Yeah, come on! And after that you can open presents!"
"You bought me presents?"
"You bet'cha!" Billy laughed and crowed.
"You guys are the best!"
Jim got off his bike and walked quickly up to Billy.
"I'm sorry for being a jerk last Saturday, Billy. The truth is, I can't bike
very well and...and I... well.. yeah. Can you forgive me?" Billy smiled.
"I think I just might be able to. I'll teach you how to bike if you teach me how
to hit a home run."
"Deal!" All the boys biked happily down the street together. And they
lived happily ever after except for Gunter who unfortunately had to move
back to Germany when it was discovered he was an illegal immigrant. But
even then, they still sent him postcards and cookies through the mail.
The End.
Write On! - Josiah
It was Saturday in Big Town and Billy and Gunter were playing baseball
with their friends Jim, Bob, Fred, Hans, and Ivan like they did every Saturday
after all their chores were done.
"Strike one!" yelled Ivan. He didn't say "strike" again because Gunter
suddenly hit the ball very hard. It went flying all the way past the benches and
the fence. Fred ran and ran but he could not catch it. Gunter ran around the
field and got a home run.
"Awww come on Gunter," said Hans. "Poor Fred didn't stand a
chance." Fred came up to them laughing.
"It's alright! I didn't mind, really." Billy checked his watch.
"I reckon it's nearly four o'clock. Why don't we go biking now?" Billy
did not like baseball. He always missed the ball.
" No, biking is stupid," said Jim. "Baseball is way better, right guys?"
The other boys didn't know what to say. Jim was nearly a head taller than
most of the other boys so they were scared to say that they wouldn't mind
going biking.
"Yeah, baseball is way better!" one of them yelled. "Biking is for sissies,
Billy." They made Billy sad. He sat down on a bench and watched them play
for another hour before everyone headed home for dinner.
Jim came home tired and laughing. He was glad they didn't go biking.
"Hello Jim! It's about time you came home, your supper's nearly gone
cold." Jim quickly sat down and started eating.
"Anything new at the old baseball diamond, son?" said Jim's father.
"Nope. Billy wanted to go biking but I told him that was stupid and we
should keep playing baseball." Jim's mom and dad looked at him.
"What?" said Jim.
"You know Billy can't play baseball well, Jim! How would you feel if
everyone always went biking when you wanted to play baseball?"
"I, I, I guess I didn't think of that..."
"And just last week he was nice enough to buy you a nickel's worth of
candy from Mr. Jones!"
"Yeah, you're right! He did, didn't he?!"
"Son, I think you should make it up to him next Saturday. The poor
fellow doesn't have many friends in these parts and he can't play sports
very well. Just give him a chance." Jimmy felt bad now. He knew he should
have been nicer to Billy. After all, they spent nearly six hours that day playing
baseball, so he could handle an hour of biking for Billy.
The next few days went by fast. Jim found out it happened to be Billy's
birthday on Saturday and that he wasn't having a party since he had no close
friends yet.
Jim made up a plan. Together the boys would have a surprise birthday
party for Billy and go biking together.
Saturday morning at 10 o'clock Billy came to the baseball diamond. He
thought he was late but no one was there! He turned around.
"Surprise!" All the boys were sitting on their bikes. "Happy birthday
Billy!"
"You guys want to go biking? With... with me?"
"Yeah, come on! And after that you can open presents!"
"You bought me presents?"
"You bet'cha!" Billy laughed and crowed.
"You guys are the best!"
Jim got off his bike and walked quickly up to Billy.
"I'm sorry for being a jerk last Saturday, Billy. The truth is, I can't bike
very well and...and I... well.. yeah. Can you forgive me?" Billy smiled.
"I think I just might be able to. I'll teach you how to bike if you teach me how
to hit a home run."
"Deal!" All the boys biked happily down the street together. And they
lived happily ever after except for Gunter who unfortunately had to move
back to Germany when it was discovered he was an illegal immigrant. But
even then, they still sent him postcards and cookies through the mail.
The End.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)