Blue

 Here is a poem called "Blue." I wrote it when I was eight and I thought that it was a cute poem to post. Although blue isn't my favorite color. It's so pretty, it definitely deserves a poem: 

 Blue

Blue is the ocean, the sky, and the ice

Blue is waves whipping and the clouds cries

Blue is the salty sea

Blue is a bird that's free

Blue is dark and bright

Blue is fish and light 

Blue is a coat on a cold winter night 

In a large storm, blue is a float

An ocean with a small boat.

Questions

 Questions

They’re unwanted pests too stubborn to move,

They’re lingering thoughts with something to prove,

They’re loose ends that can’t be tied,

They’re tricksters, designed to misguide,

You cannot give a direct answer, 

The question dips and turns like a ballet dancer,

But you must dance to every word,

Or your answer will remain fuzzy and blurred. 

The song of a question is a complicated one,

But when you learn to sway to it, 

Before you know it, you’ll be done.

I wrote this poem at 10:00 in the night. I didn't even know what I was writing about until I finished it. Initially, I was writing about 'answers'. But then, when I wrote the line, "They're loose ends that can't be tied." I switched my topic to the exact opposite: questions!

LuLu

 Sorry about this late post.  I've been pretty busy–– ish. I mean, watching two Harry Potter movies, starting a new episode series, and doing a math camp at the same time is pretty busy if I do say so myself.  Anyways, to the topic of this post: LuLu (my betta fish, if you remember) just died. An old post will remind you how much I fought for him (more like making a Google Slide show, but still). 

Please have a moment of silence, loyal readers. He was a great fish. Comment a fish emoji in honor of him. His funeral will be on July 6th, 2021. 

Luv

LuLu 

A twin-tail half-moon betta fish

Oct 25th, 2020 ~ July 5th, 2021 

May he rest in peace.

Recap of his life (with us):

Oct 25th, 2020: We brought LuLu home and he loved his new environment. I remember that he darted around in the little box we brought him home in when he first saw the sun. Sadly, that day, we had a power outage that lasted until midnight. Although LuLu's aquarium light, filter, and heater weren't on, he was still happy to be out of that little container we got him in. 

After about two weeks, and a lot of research, I announced that I would start "betta school" in which I would teach LuLu tricks! That didn't last more than two weeks. But I succeeded in training LuLu to come up to my finger when I put it on the tank.  That was progress. 

Fast-forward to Thanksgiving break,  we were going to New Orleans. Since LuLu was still pretty new we decided not to put an automatic feeder instead we were going to take him with us. We got a little tank and put in a familiar tank decoration. Then we moved LuLu in. It was an eight-hour drive so we had to put his tank in a little shoebox stuffed with tennis balls to keep his tank steady. We would stop every few hours to check on him. When we reached New Orleans, the first thing we did was carry LuLu inside. We put him upstairs and put in a water heater. Then while LuLu got used to his new tank we had dinner. 

Unfortunately, LuLu got sick with swim bladder disease. Luckily it wasn't fatal and a few days of fasting fixed him right up. 

The minute we put him back in his old tank, he started swimming around happily. 

In winter break, however, we decided not to take a risk so we left him at home with an automatic feeder. And we called a family friend to come and check on him every couple of days. When we came back from our trip to New Jersey and Washington D.C., we found that he was bloated!! Though he was swimming enjoyably. So we gave the tank a scrub and fasted him for two days, and he was fine. Then we decided that we would not leave a living, breathing fish at the mercy of a piece of plastic. 

So in our next New Orleans trip, we (1) made it short and (2) made the family friend check on LuLu and feed him every other day. 

But then when mid-June came around, we all got busy and were unable to clean the tank for a while.  Finally, on July 4th we started the process of cleaning the tank.  We planned to do a full water change. We decided to put Lulu in a separate bowl with conditioned water.

So as soon as we put LuLu in a separate bowl, he stopped moving... His mouth was on the surface and he was frozen. I was certain it was from stress. 

When the tank was clean, we put LuLu back but he refused to move.  I did some research and every website said swim bladder disease. Which made sense because he has had problems with his swim bladder before. As the night wore on, Lulu was hooked to the surface. He started to turn pale. I didn't feed him that night and turned off the light early, even put on some relaxing music. That didn't seem to help. On the morning of July 5th, LuLu had sunk down to the bottom of the tank. That's when it dawned on me, the unbearable truth, that my first pet was dead. 

I was too stunned to cry, too numb to make any expression. So I walked away. 

My first pet, my first fish, my first LuLu will always be nestled inside my heart. 

R.I.P LuLu

A Morning in the Rainforest

 A morning in the rainforest,

As breathtaking as can be,

The birds twitter cheerfully,

As the sun is set free,

A bear pokes his head,

Out of his homely den,

As the beetles scutter for leaves,

To keep their little ones fed,

The sun's rays delicately touch 

A sleeping pack of wolves,

"Wake up," the sun says, "it's time for a new day".

A young wolf pup stirs awake,

Roused by the sun's very first ray,

Nearby a butterfly,

Slurps its nectar,

Watching the rainforest rise,

Yesterday is gone,

Tomorrow is yet to come.

So get ready for what today lies. 

Uplifting poem: Almost Flying

 

Almost Flying

The branch stands ready,

Perfect to perch on,

It’s too high to jump,

Too high to leap,

But there is a way,

A way that no one’s tried;

Close your eyes,

And break the chains that hold you down,

Unknot the ties that keep you from

Breaking into flight

Up and up and up you go,

Oh, gravity, you are defied,

But instead of reaching for the branch,

You reach for the sky.

New Poem: Home

Home : 05/16/2021

Look out the window,

Look out of the city,

Into the fertile lands,

This is Earth we all share,

And her fate is in our hands

Through hardship and despair,

Mother Earth was always there,

Can’t we do the same for her?

Beckoning you to her warm embrace,

With open arms she waits

For you to hug her back,

Listen to her heartbeat echo through the ground,

Listen as she breathes gracefully in and out,

Rustling her trees and grass,

Then look at what you have done to her,

Where there was once a pine,

Now lies a house,

Where a family of bears once lived,

Now lies a school.

My question is:

How could we be so cruel?

Cruel to our planet,

To the beautiful land we have misused,

This is not a fight,

Nor an argument,

It is a truth,

Don’t fight,

Unite. 

Bring light,

Into the growing darkness,

Let’s take a stand for home

For we must face,

What we have done wrong,

We cannot wait,

Until it is too late,

We must do it now. 

Help this small lonely speckle in space,

We have wronged her;

We must make it right;

This sphere of blue and green,

This orb of beauties unseen,

Earth is more than just a dazzling dome,

Earth is our one, our only, our beautiful home.

The Ghost of the Mountain

Disclaimer and Advisory: Ages 9 and up. 

A great story for sleepovers. Show this picture as either an online background or just a beginning pic. Scary music provided. 

High up the mountain, down, past the butcher's cabin, lies a grave. Marked with just numbers. It is said that every year September 2nd (the end of World War II) the grave awakens. A terrible fate awaits the person who sees the ghost. The ghost's heart is set on revenge. Revenge against the Nazis and their descendants.  

Everyone on that mountain knows this poem:

Slowly, swiftly that ghost glides,

On a dark night with cloudy skies,

High in the mountains,

through the winding path,

Get ready to face thy waiting wrath,

No moon to guide thee,

Now, the ghost is free. 

This is the story of a foolish girl named Anne.

It was a particularly rainy day on Mt. Breton. Ann was vacationing at her grandparents' house.  The mountain was named after her great-grandfather, so Anne was respected in the mountain. Little did she know that this mountain was haunted. As the rain started pouring, Anne raced to her grandparent's house.  As she went to the window. Anne saw a figure outside. The rain stopped. The droplets came together. Anne watched in astonishment as the droplets formed the shape of the face. It had no eye sockets, it was deformed. The thing opened its mouth. 

Anne was frozen she couldn't scream! 

Then the thing spoke. Its voice was raspy. It spoke like a rusty nail scraping against metal. " It's coming tonight, beware." Just as it came, the thing vanished. The rain pounded on.

Anne couldn't get the words out of her head. "It's coming tonight". She made a mental note to stick close to her parents that night. Curiosity won the fight against fear. Anne started walking toward the mountain. She trudged up the gloomy mountain. On the way, Anne found a cemetery. So she creaked open the gate and went inside. Suddenly, her watch beeped. It was sundown. Whatever it was it is coming tonight. Anne ran toward the cemetery entrance. But it was too late. The gate had locked. 

Grave started was moving. The ground rumbled. Anne hears a bloodcurdling scream from inside the grave. The ground parted. Anne had expected there to be a corpse. But instead, there were multiple bodies. One looked like it was buried recently. It was a girl about her age. With a stunned expression on her face. She looked like she was screaming. The main coffin rose into the air, right in front of Anne. 

"Open me," a raspy voice said from nowhere in particular. 

"OPEN ME".

 Anne reached out trembling hand and opened the coffin.

 The ghost was unleashed !!