The Eagle's Call

Eagle's Call

Drowning out the lion's roar, 

As an eagle flies toward the shore, 

Sailing on the wind over the ocean, 

And opens his beak in one quick, swift motion, 

He closes his eyes and lets the sound travel through him,

As the moon sinks down and begins to grow dim, 

The eagle's call, the call of peace,

The eagle's call brings opportunity 

https://www.audubon.org/field-guide/bird/bald-eagle

The Smell of the Morning.

Have you ever thought of the smell of the morning? Or about the smell of the rising sun. Wait a minute; the sun doesn't have a smell, does it? Well, scientifically, no. But, in poetry, a comet can have a smell if you just imagine. This is my interpretation of the smell of the morning:                                 

                                    The Smell of the Morning

The smell of the morning, 

The dew on the grass, 

It smells of the rains that silently passed, 

The smell of the sun, 

Of resting bread dough, 

The heart of a flame, 

From where a fire grows

The smell of fresh color, 

On the newly-painted home, 

The metallicity of the smell stands out,

Like a lone garden gnome, 

In a pitiful fairy garden, 

The smell of breakfast, 

Wafting through the breeze, 

Of pancakes and bacon, 

Just out of reach

The light of the morning,

The moon’s last beam, 

It allows the sun to wake you up from this dream

The Book

Another house poem for y'all (that's right, I used an INFORMAL SLANG in a post) 

The Book 

                                                                                        Date: 9-21-21

Each page is a blade,  

Ready to turn, 

Each word is a spark, 

Ready to burn, 

She reaches over and grabs my spine,

What’s in this book, 

She needs to learn

A soft tickle comes from her eager hand, 

As she traces the story within, 

Her burning eyes glued to the page, 

As the tale takes a spin, 

Her eyes remain on my fantasy, 

During the reading time in class, 

For my characters’ fate in the story, 

Lay just beyond the looking glass, 

My thin, sharp pages,

Cut through your mind, 

The plot and the words,

 knotted and entwined,

There is no escape from my literary wonder, 

In me, there is sunshine while outside there is thunder, 

The crinkles on my pages signify how much I have been read, 

My dark crimson cover has turned light red, 

Now in my old age, I finally see, 

That the only reason, that girl picked me up, 

Was for my story and not for me

The Picture Frame

 The Picture Frame

I hold the scents you cannot smell,

I hold the secrets you cannot tell,

I hold the world you cannot touch, 

I hold the words you cannot call, 

I hold so much, 

Yet nothing at all

When people pass, they say, “What a nice picture,”

As if I am invisible, 

The picture gets the glory, the frame gets none, 

The picture is proud, while I am miserable, 

I am the one that brings this empty picture to life, 

The rocks in the picture as black as night, 

The snow as gray as the tip of a silver knife, 

The outline of my beautiful frame is spruce-brown with swirly designs, 

There is no frame in all the lands with wood so very fine, 

I hold the scents you cannot smell, 

I hold the secrets you cannot tell, 

I hold the world you cannot touch,

I hold the words you cannot call, 

I hold so much, 

Yet nothing at all

Do you ever feel like a picture frame or like the only reason you have any glory is because you are holding the famous picture? You don't get any glory, you "picture" does. I hope this poem will help express that you are not alone and everyone feels the same way some time or another. 

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