Prison Poetry

Shallow Dark
By: Martin Williams

In the shallow dark
Confessing emptiness
To the emptiness
Afraid
That m life has meaning;
For then my sins
have meaning
My good
Has meaning, and who
Carrying the weight
Of a significant life
Wouldn't rather choose
The stillness of a tree
Surrendered perfectly
To life's slow law?

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Now What?

        As January 16 approaches every day, I'm not going to change the way I do or think of things when I am doing Creative Writing related activities. This year has been really strange through the course of events. I wish Mr. Good could stay with us for the rest of the year because I believe he is a good teacher, even though he doesn't have a literature background. As a teacher coming out of retirement to help teach our class when we didn't have anyone else to, he has done a great job. When the time comes when we get a new teacher for the rest of the year, I will be ready for it. I would prefer not to change teachers for a second time this year, but if that is what needs to be done, so be it. I am sure that whoever replaces Mr. Good will be a very good teacher, and hope that they will have the same likable personality as he does.

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Blog Reviews 2

I visited Peanut boy, Paperclips and Applesauce, and Blogger907's Blogs.

Peanut boy has a very basic layout to his blog, but it fits perfectly. The content of his blog is really portrayed through the simple background.

Paperclips and Applesauce stood out to me visually. As soon as the page loaded I wanted to check it out because of the green background. But it isn't all visual, the content is very in depth and has meaning to it.

Blogger907 also has a basic layout, but with a little more detail and color. The color choices for the background and fonts really fit their specific blog. It looks very well done.

wRite a Riff (The R is supposed to be capitalized)

This riff is a fast write prompt we did in class. Brenden's blog has the other perspective to this story because we did two different sides of an event. Enjoy.

I have no friends, all I have is my chair. "What are you looking at?" I think to myself as the janitor stares while he walks by. "I don't see you with a cool chair like mine." This used to be a desk, but I failed school, and there are no super heros with desks. I sit here. Sit here pondering if I shouldn't have dropped out of medical school.
I met my soul mate there, she had a cloak. She went bald. I loved her. I remember how we met. I was sitting at my desk in the library. I took my desk everywhere, to class, home, to the bathroom. Anyways, I was at my desk, she was in the corner trying to make me think she was reading comics books when she was actually staring at me. We locked eyes for the longest three hours 15 minutes of my life.
I saw her every Saturday in the library. We had the best relationship; we never argued. But one day, someone started pulling out her hair. I broke off the top of my desk and at a full sprint, leaped into a fatal blow.
The man died instantly. The cops beat me and dragged me off the campus. I looked back as she was glueing the hair back into her head. She only ever heard me say one thing and that was "f**k!", because of the many night sticks, raping me.

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