Some poems telling a brief story about murders and kidnappings. (this is one of the poems taken from Quotation Marks, to see more poetry so you can read this story).

Soon, Lu Zhouhe's performance was finished. After a moment of silence, the area was filled with deafening applause and compliments! Compared to Miss Dong's performance, the atmosphere at this moment was even hotter. Apparently, Lu Zhouhe's composition impressed most of the people here. They were sincerely convinced by his talent.
Even Xu Que was convinced by this composition. He knew he was not able to make such a high-quality composition. As a great musician, Lu Zhouhe could rival masters like Beethoven!
When Lu Zhouhe put away his Guqin, he glanced at Xu Que speculatively. His eyes were full of sarcasm. It was a provocation and disdain obviously. It seemed he was trying to respond to Xu Que's provocation just now. In short, he was trying to tell Xu Que either show your talents or stop acting tough!
Damn!
Xu Que was annoyed immediately. What I want is a face-to-face challenge. I don't need this kind of eye contact! You are seeking death!
At the thought of this, Xu Que almost tried to kill the toy boy with one punch.
Whoosh!
Just at this time, Buttface came up from nowhere suddenly. He said in a low, furtive voice, "Little brat, something big has happened!"
"What?" Xu Que was surprised.
Buttface said in a low voice, "Holy crap! I was freaked out just now. This is not an ordinary building. Just now I sensed a horrible aura. I guess it might come from a cultivator at the Celestial Realm!"
"What? Celestial Realm?" Xu Que was shocked instantly, "Really? Where did you find it?"
"It's true! I went to the kitchen just now. That aura flashed by outside the kitchen. I was not able to track it, but I'm sure it is in this building!" Buttface said in terror.
Xu Que's lips twitched immediately. He sneered at Buttface coldly, "Buttface, you are awesome! I didn't expect you could have sneaked into the kitchen in such a short time!"
Howl! "I just passed by the kitchen! OK, OK, I'll continue to scout the situation!" Buttface ran away diffidently.
Xu Que didn't want to waste his time on Buttface. He also gave up the idea of attacking Lu Zhouhe recklessly. Anyway, he had so many ways to punish this guy. He just didn't want to offend a cultivator at the Celestial Realm for such a small fish! At least, he wouldn't do that before finding the Ten-Millennium-Flower-Dew!
What if he had to confront that powerful cultivator after finding the Ten-Millennium-Flower-Dew? Heh, heh, the Act-Tough Saint won't be scared away by a cultivator of the Celestial Realm!
At the thought of this, Xu Que stared at Lu Zhouhe with a cold smile.
...
After Lu Zhouhe's performance, a lot of people who were itching for a try didn't dare to show themselves. Several highly skilled exerts stepped out and played high-quality compositions with Guzheng, Guqin, or jade flute.
The building was filled with compliments. Even Miss Dong, who was sitting behind the gauze curtain, kept praising them.
However, Xu Que had managed to find out the truth. No matter whether the compositions were happy or sad, that disappointment was always hidden deeply in Miss Dong's eyes. It seemed all those compositions couldn't satisfy her. It was just like the Go Astray she had played just now. She was trying to pursue something new or make some new changes.
Oh? Could it be that.... Xu Que's eyes lit up as if an idea had occurred to him.
Bang!
"Hah, hah, hah...." Xu Que struck the table and laughed loudly.
Swish!
All the rest of the people in this area fixed their eyes on Xu Que.
Xu Que shook his head and said with a proud smile, "Guys, I am not here to blame you! I just want to tell you that all your compositions and poems are rubbish!"
Boom!
His words threw the entire area into a dead silence.
After that, uproar broke out. Everyone stared at Xu Que and accused him angrily.
"Behave yourself!"
"How dare you break the rules of the Dong Family!"
"We've come to an agreement that we won't talk about win or lose today. It is a friendly match. How dare you provoke everyone here?"
"Humph! I've noticed this man for a long time. He started to shake his head disdainfully when Miss Dong read her poem!"
"It's more than that! He always acted like this whenever someone read a poem or played a composition. He even disdained Lord Lu's composition. I didn't expect he would say it in front of us directly! He is so arrogant!"
Many people kept blaming Xu Que angrily. Actually, they had endured him for a long time. They just didn't want to step out and accuse Xu Que in front of the people of the Dong Family. However, now Xu Que had provoked them. They didn't want to put up with him anymore. They also wanted to take this opportunity to vent their anger.
Lu Zhouhe was smiling coldly. He glanced at Xu Que sarcastically because he was trying to annoy Xu Que, so that Xu Que would act out. Now, he thought his plan had worked.
On the contrary, Miss Dong, who was still sitting behind the gauze curtain, was stunned a bit. From the very beginning, she had noticed Xu Que's reactions and expressions. In order to show due respect to everyone in this area, she hadn't asked him for the reason. After all, things like poems or music suited both refined and popular tastes. Different people had different viewpoints and tastes. Nothing could be accepted by everyone. Therefore, she ignored Xu Que and focused on enjoying the performances.
However, she didn't expect that this guy would step out and denounce the works of other people as rubbish. This was outrageous indeed!
"My lord, why do you say that?" Miss Dong asked Xu Que, for she was trying to appease everyone. Her words quieted this area immediately. People just stared at Xu Que angrily.
Xu Que said with a faint smile, "I don't want to waste my time with poems. I could read several lines:
I can barely wake up in spring slumber, as the chirping of birds is heard here and there.
Last night came a stormy rain. To try to count the fallen petals would be a vain task.
 Hey, this is a poem I composed when I was five. It's boring, why are you so surprised?"
All the people in the area were shocked.
Although Xu Que read the poem casually, they realized this poem was quite poetic and visually inspired. Especially the last line "To try to count the fallen petals would be a vain task" could be regarded as an excellent finishing touch!
More important, he said he composed this poem when he was five!
My god! Is this guy a genius?
His talents in poetry are extraordinary!
"I don't think it is necessary for me to read the rest of my poems. Anyway, they are better than this one! That's why I denounced your poems, for they are so terrible that they couldn't be called poems!"
After saying that, Xu Que said with fervor and assurance again, "Moreover, just now I only shook my head for I was doing my best to contain myself! However, after hearing your compositions, sorry, I couldn't hold myself back any longer! Maybe someone is curious about the reason!"
After saying that, Xu Que stopped as he looked at the people in this area. Their dumbfounded expressions made Xu Que smile, "The reason is that I am best at music!"
Wow!
Instantly, the entire area was in an uproar.
What did he say?
Is he best at music?
Does this mean that extraordinary poem he read just now was nothing for him?
His talents in poetry are so remarkable! I didn't expect that it is not his strongest skill! I can't imagine how marvelous his musical skills could be!
...


I am the best when it comes to taking divergent paths. With just a flip of my hand, I shall take the path less commonly travelled. I search far and wide, only to find myself unbeatable and unrivaled. So now I ask, who else can match my awesomeness? 

Acting tough is second nature to me and I am a lone wolf.
 
The road is long and winding but I shan’t feel lonely as long as I am able to act tough!


Life and death bore me and I do whatever I deem fit.

“Young man, way back when I started acting tough, you were still learning how to put on your underpants!” Xu Que thus decided to take the path of acting tough. He decided to act tough every single god-damned day. If he wasn’t acting tough, he was scheming for the best way to act tough!  

June 3, 2012 – Sunday 10 am – Okuba, Nabla
""""""Dear Payew, 
Congratulations! On behalf of Rinowra School of Ouigab, I am pleased to announce of your admission into the 12th grade for this coming 2012 – 2013 school year.
The academic achievements you have achieved within your school reflect what we value, respect, and expect from our students. Ambition, compassion, and curious intellect are the foundations of the Rinowra School experience. Be proud to have joined a select group of students. 
For 72 years, students who have entered Rinowra School have left prepared for success in their college education. Rinowra graduates gain a clear advantage among their peers and boast an admission rate of over 90% into the best universities around the world. We believe that the personalized education we provide and are still striving to improve, allows our students to thrive both in the campus and in their future studies.
Payew, we are excited that you have been accepted to join the Rinowra School Class of 2013. Please review the enclosed 'Checklist' for the next steps needed to make our school a part of your future. If you … """""""
I'm accepted. I'm surprised. Even though I'm the top of my grade in my high school, it's a fact that public schools in general are lacking compared to those high schools for the rich. However, I know I deserve it. Even though I'm from a public high school, I've given extra effort to study and read outside the curriculum to be number 1.
I actually don't care about being number 1 in my school; I just followed Tayaw's advice. Before he went off to college, he said 'Don't just study hard for the sake of studying. Make sure that every lesson on the textbook; know how to apply them in real life.' It was hard at first. If it was how I studied before, I would just memorize things and I'm good. But when I started studying and researching on each subjects, my reading basically multiplied. 
Thankfully, knowing how to apply them to practice made the stuff I read go down easier. The amount of information I also process while studying made me realize I've become smarter. I can connect information easier, and my memory improved as well. While I reduced the time of reading, my time applying the knowledge increased.
"That's the admission letter? Congratulations man." Tayaw said when he saw the letter on my hand. He came for a visit again after coming from Italy as an acclaimed movie director. I can't believe a world famous director is still sleeping in a bunk bed in my bedroom. 
"Yeah. It sounded braggy." I said. "Well. They have the right to. That's why I chose it for you." Tayaw said. 
Instead of applying to the Preparatory High School near dad's auto shop like the family talked about, Tayaw instead had me apply at Rinowra in Ouigab. It's not a boarding school, but still one of the best private high schools in the whole Northern Teungeb.
"mm. That's good. It actually won't make a difference what you study. Just study the way you're doing, and you'll be fine." Tayaw said. He's assuring me, but I'm honestly anxious. 
"Hah. Easy for you to say. I heard they're full of snobby kids from rich families." I said. "Hey. That school is different. They only care about grades. Sure, there may be a lot of rich kids there, but if they worked hard in studying, I bet they did not have the time to learn to be snobby." Tayaw said. 
"I'm jealous of you man. You didn't study hard in high school and now, according to dad, you can now retire if you want to and go for vacation for the rest of your life. I wish I'm an author too." I said. Sincerely, but I hid it in a jesting tone. I know though that I'm not an artist like him. Writing songs, writing books, and making a movie, and I don't even know how to do them even if I'm given millions of BGCs to start. I can say for sure because since Tayaw became a famous author, I've tried writing songs and stories in my spare time. 
"Hey. Play to your strengths. You're book smart and you can apply what you learn in real life. Just look at your garden in the backyard. I would not believe you grew that from just the knowledge you read from books. Look at your old game boy, you fixed it yourself after looking it up on the internet. Not everyone can do that." Tayaw said, which consoled me.
"Strength. Is that why mom and dad don't care if Agew don't get high grades? Making good vases is his strength?" I asked. 
"Exactly. And painting stuff too. He's good with his hands.  Now. Do you like learning things?" Tayaw asked. "Yes. It was fun measuring the area of our lot, how much of it is occupied by the house, how much is spare for other stuff. You know that whe-" "Alright. The point is you're having fun doing it. As long as you're having fun doing something productive, it's good." Tayaw said and went back to fiddling with his laptop. 
Why is he always busy? He's already rich and he just finished a movie. "What are you doing?" I asked out of curiosity. "Oh. I've wrote a lot of songs, but I can't possibly perform them all. I'm writing them down to sell. " Tayaw replied. 'Possibly'? "Just how many songs have you written?" I asked. "I don't know. Thousands? I'm sorting out the best ones." He explained as if it's no big deal.
"thousands… Then that's hundreds of albums, huh?" I read on the internet that an album at least have 7 or 8 songs as long as they're 31 minutes or more combined. "No. It's not that simple. Most of them are not good enough." He said. "So aside from writing books you wrote the lyrics too? How did you write lyrics for thousands of songs?" I asked, overwhelmed by the amount of work it will take. "What? Ah. I've misspoke. The songs I'm talking about are just the music. I've not written lyrics for them yet." He said. 
Still, that's a lot of work. "I see. Is that American band the only people you've sold songs to?" "Sold-.. Yes. They're the only ones for now. Hey. How's your English by the way?" Tayaw asked me suddenly. "It's going okay, I guess. I'm listening to recorded radio shows. I'm making some simple poems to practice too." I said. Whenever I do gardening or walk to and from school, I've recently gotten into radio shows. Aside from that, I also listen to Tayaw's English songs. 
"Poems? What type of poems?" Tayaw asked, showing interest, which he usually doesn't. Now I wish I had not told him about the poems. "They're just for practice. They're not anything special." I said. "Why?" "Well, because it's not formal English. I'm just writing casual stuff to remember new words I learned." I said.
"That's good. That's good. Do you write Teungebian poems too?" He asked, thankfully not insisting. "Yeah. I use them to memorize stuff so they don't really form … coherent stories." I explained. It's fun doing them. Since elementary school, long before I studied using Tayaw's 'apply into practice' style, I always wrote poems to memorize stuff easier instead of acronyms that I always forget. "That's good. Let's say you don't have to use formal writing, and you form coherent stories, can you still write poems?" He asked. Can't he just ask if I can write actual poems?
"Yeah. I think so. I don't know if they're good though. Why?" I asked. "Well, can you let me take a look at your poems?" He brought it up again. I know he will insist or bribe. But I feel guilty whenever he bribes using stuff that are much more valuable than the simple things he wants from me. I also know he doesn't like embarrassing people, so I guess I just have to show him. "Alright." 
A minute later, *flip* *flip* *flip* "hmm… mmm.. mmhhhmm.. hmm? Hmm." basing on his expression, at least he doesn't seem to hate it. "You wanna move in my house at Ouigab?" He suddenly asked. "On August?" I asked. "On August. My bed room is large enough for two beds." He explained. So, he has a house too in Ouigab? He can afford it but he never told mom and dad he bought one. 
"Yeah? Why can't just get a spare room then?" I asked. It's a valid question. If he bought a house, then he definitely bought a large one just like the one he bought in New York. "Well. You know the band I played with in my YouTube Channel? They live with me. We make music." He explained. It makes sense now. At least I know now that he's at least not living alone. He's even living 1,2,3 …  6 people! He's living with more people than he did when he was living here. He's not lonely. 
"Alright! I'll go." I'm excited. It's only two months and I can't wait. 
"You're 16 now. Had your driver's license yet?" He asked. "YEAHP. But.. Dad doesn't allow me to drive by myself when I drive here to and from his workshop in Jebung … He gets yell-y too, but I get why." I said. "Hmm? That's a long drive. SO you're driving to his workshop now huh." He said in surprise. It is understandable. 65 kilometers, more than an hour drive on zig zags is tough. "At first, I would always feel spent. But now, I don't feel as tired." I assured, when I saw the worried look on his face. 
"Alright. Be careful. If you can drive safely without even leaving a scratch on dad's van, I may even buy you a car when you get to Ouigab." He said. I'm gob smacked. I don't even know what to say.

A/N : Alt Title - Jack of Entertainment 

Title : Jack of Arts

Synopsis:
Tayaw is a talented musician who never got to fulfill his potential. After losing his purpose in an unfulfilled life full of regrets; he is given the chance to go back in time and do everything over again.Along with a mysterious gift and an unclear mission, Tayaw starts a new life, this time making his mark to the world.
"Tayaw is a once in a hundred years musical artist! I just wish he was born in my generation"
- Buddy Rich, two-time Gramophone Award winner
"I admit he's a good musician, but he's an author first and foremost. He is changing the world of literature for the better."
- Helena Paddington, Outcault Prize for Fiction winner, Sohlman Prize for Literature winner.
"Despite being a musician and an author, he is to me, the greatest blessing to the film industry. This is his era."
- Heo Dong-jun, two-time Academy Award winner for Best Director and three-time nominee.

"I don't like him. Why does he use actors who didn't train and grind on the stage? He says he doesn't like my acting? What the hell does the kid know about acting? I've won awards for f*cks sake!"
- Merrell Street, five-time Academy Award winner for Best Actor, three-time Toby Award winner for Best Actor.




---------------
A ground work for a novel idea in the future.
---------------
English is not my first language so excuse my limited vocabulary and bad grammar. thanks

There was once a young girl who was about 8 years old. Her parents ran a book store in a small town, so it was her duty to help around the bookstore. Every morning she would wake up at dawn and eat the breakfast that her mother had made and would happily accompany her parents to the bookstore. 
She spent her days dusting the bookshelves and rearranging the books to best display their charms. The girl would love getting her hands on books as she always felt that each book would open up a whole new world to her. She wouldn't need to leave this store to experience an adventure as she simply would just need to open a book. 
The only downside to her theory of adventures was that she was only 8 years old. Her comprehension of words and stories was top notch, but her reading ability was not that up to par. She could only read simple words and sentences on her own. The more complicated books that she was able to enjoy were always read to her by either her mother or father. 
One day, the girl's father had asked her to go out and run a small errand for him. She obediently left the store with the package that her father had asked her to deliver. She recalled the directions that her father had given her just a few moments ago. 
Go down this street, take a left at this street, take a right at that street, and so on. She continued onwards through the town making sure to go the right way. As she neared the end of the directions she had recalled, she began to hear gossip among the streets of the town. 
She slowed her footsteps and zeroed in on the conversation. Her mother loved to listen to gossip, so she thought that if she was able to share a bit of gossip, she would be able to get her mother to read even more of the books she loved.
"Did you hear about the young man who just moved into that previous empty house? I heard his fiancé left him when she found out about his illness," one woman said to the other.
The young girl had slightly frowned upon hearing this. How could a woman leave her fiancé after hearing of an illness if she truly loved him? 
 "I know who you're talking about," the other woman replied. "I heard she was really pretty and that they were both childhood friends. I also heard she left him to marry that nouveau riche baron."
In the back of the girl's head she understood why the woman had done it. In these times, living without the help of a man was truly difficult. Living as a widowed woman was even more difficult. Women were already not respected, but the society looked down upon widowed women thinking that they always played the pity card.
The girl continued forward to move out of the range of the gossip. Shaking off the melancholic feelings of hearing those women talk, she reached her destination. She stood in front of a simple house which had once been previously uninhabited. She knew what house this was. It was the house she had heard about in the gossip.
Taking a few steps to the door, she knocked loudly. She could hear the shuffling of feet and a loud sound as if something had fallen on the other side of the door. Before she could wonder what had fallen on the other side, the door had opened and she was face to face with a young man who looked about 17. Of course they weren't actually face to face as she was still much shorter due to her age.
"Hello, I am here to deliver books!" the young girl recited.
The young man nodded, "Sorry, could I trouble you to bring the books inside? I can't see and I'm still getting used to this house."
The girl's eyes widened in shock. He couldn't see? She quickly added and "Okay," to try to hide her shock. She stepped inside the house to place the books she was carrying. Her eyes glistened with envy when she took in the sight. Along the walls of the house were multiple shelves which contained numerous books. Her eyes spotted many books in which she had not heard before and her hands itched to be able to grab hold of them and read them.
She looked for a place to put the package of books she was carrying when she suddenly realized something. Why did this man have so many books when he couldn't see? She saw the man suddenly stiffen in place. Before she could process what had happened, she realized that she had spoken her thoughts aloud!
He gave a bitter smile towards the girl, "It was all before I lost my sight."
"But these are new books that you just ordered!" she replied before quickly shutter her mouth to realize she once again spoke her thoughts.
A light laugh emerged from the silent space, "Force of habit. Seems I can't completely let go of all things precious to me."
She could hear a bit of sadness in his words no matter how hard he tried to make it seem light hearted. She could hear him whisper under his breath, "It's too bad I can't have one last read of my favorite book."
All things related to books always brought upon her interest, so she couldn't help be particularly interested in this book which could be the favorite of this man. She slowly thought for a moment before saying, "If… If the book isn't too difficult… and if you don't mind… I can read it to you."
He seemed to pause for a moment before giving a tender smile, "I would appreciate that."
And so the arrangement between the girl and the man became finalized. Every day, she would go to his house and read a couple of pages of the favored book, which she had figured out was a book of poems. She had told her parents that she wanted to do less in the book shop as she had something important to do. Her parents didn't mind as their daughter had always did more than needed in the shop.
On her first day that she started her reading duties, she had trouble reading off a few words in the first poem. She always thought poems were simple phrases! She never realized how difficult they could actually be. Whenever she found herself come across a word she didn't know, she would pause a bit while staring intently at the page. The man would then say the word in which she struggled on as if he was able to read it himself. He had simply just said that he vaguely remembered the poems and was able to figure out the word from the context of the poem.
On the next day, the reading process once again repeated itself. She would sit across from him while trying her best to recite the poems and he would sit and look straight ahead as if pondering the poems she read aloud to him.

Scroll was once mentioned to have gained her ability because she always sought knowledge by reading. But what if there was also something else that could have influenced her abilities?
This is a short fan fiction of a short piece of Scroll's past when she was young and had met a man who had also loved books.

Maybe it was the cheerful atmosphere in the air, or maybe it was all the chaos drink that she had consumed throughout the night, but something inside of Scroll made her want to speak up and tell a story. 
“I’ll go next,’ Scroll spoke up after the previous story. Everyone looked at Scroll expectantly. Out of everyone here, Scroll should have the most memory to remember all her encounters and all the things she has read. Surely her story would be everything but boring.
And slowly, Scroll began to recite her story.

In participation of the RTW fan fiction contest. I was one of those kids that received participation awards because I didn't excel in anything.

A BEST SELLING AUTHOR ON AMAZON for Poems Book 1, Poems Book 3, Poetry on Inspiring Women -Book One AND You Can Lose Weight Just Like Me – From 85kg to 68kg – A Real Life Story











D.S.PAIS










Poetry on Inspiring Women -Book Three












Copyright 2019 D. S. Pais
Amazon Edition



ALSO BY D.S.PAIS


Best Sellers:
Poems Book 1, Poems Book 3, Poetry on Inspiring Women -Book One AND You Can Lose Weight Just Like Me – From 85kg to 68kg – A Real Life Story





Rescue
Diane
Tiene
Rescue Book 2: Giselle
Matters of the Heart
An Unlikely Christmas
The Spell of an Irresistible Woman
The silhouette in the picture









Self - Help:
How to Identify My Greatest Passion in Life
A PRAGMATIC Method to face repeated failures
The METHOD





Poetry:
Poems Book 2, Poems Book 4, Poetry on Inspiring Women -Book Two








Acknowledgements:






I dedicate this book to my family, relatives and friends who have been an inspiration in my life to continue with my work, in particular my husband Brayan, my children, Gavin and Glen.

I am indebted to my readers, because of whom I derive my inspiration to keep writing.

There are women who continue to inspire me in my life and this book is dedicated to them.

In this book, tributes have been written to the following ten women who made an impact in society: Mary Shelley, Catherine the Great, Vera Atkins, Cleopatra, Elizabeth Fry, Mary Anning, Joan of Arc, Isabella of Castile, Catherine of Siena and Wangari Maathai



















Selected comments for other books:


"Hello DSPais, thank you for this nice short sensible book. I bought your kindle for 99 cents and have already read it in ten minutes! I really like your approach of creative visualization. I weighed 91 kg and reduced to 72 kg but have increased back to 78 kg now, so am interested in ways to reinforce good diet and practice psychology of weight loss, especially just reducing amount of food. I will try your recipe of apple cider vinegar before meals. Reading your short book has helped me to focus my mind on good habits."
Book: You can lose weight just like me – from 85kg to 68kg – A Real Life Story.

"An ideal book for any normal person, who wants to lose weight. Steps mentioned can be followed by any one, who has the desire to lose weight. Overall a good one."
Book: You can lose weight just like me – from 85kg to 68kg – A Real Life Story.

"Read Matters of the Heart today. Beautifully written."
Book: Matters Of The Heart.

"Reading the Repeated Failures Book. Found a few good points".
Book: A PRAGMATIC Method to face repeated failures

"I read your book; it is nice in the way people can relate to as people face the same issues in their everyday life"
Book: You can lose weight just like me – from 85kg to 68kg – A Real Life Story

"I read your book on how to lose weight…..so nicely written. All your steps are very easy and normal to follow."
Book: You can lose weight just like me – from 85kg to 68kg – A Real Life Story

"It's really great that you did this… both the weight loss and the book. Very admirable."
Book: You can lose weight just like me – from 85kg to 68kg – A Real Life Story

"For a nice experience, turn to Beauty of the Night Surrounds Me, where we find this: "When the Sun has worn her evening gown; /The wind is gushing her wings /and around me, the lark sings. I should also mention Journey of an Individual, which is about meeting after a long-distance relationship.  Pais is from a culture different from mine, and this poem gives an insight into another world view – which, like yours and mine, includes love and hope."
Book: Poems Book One

"Ten poems is a small taste of a promising writer. I will content myself with a couple of comments. The opening poem, An Odd Encounter with Fate, is a narrative of how a relationship that seems a total non-starter can later catch up with both individuals. For a tough poem, turn to Infidelity. Here Pais begins to reach into your gut. Finally, Season of Love is a nice and gentle romantic poem. I should mention that Pais generally rhymes, exactly or closely. For those who prefer careful stanzas, that is a plus you will get from this book."
Book: Poems Book Two

"Now, let's go into what I enjoyed about "Poems." This short collection did what many others have not, and what many short stories try to do but aren't able to do; it made me feel. These poems individually but collectively made me feel so much. If you have ever felt love and know the joy and pains of what it is to love someone, then the first one is touching. I do not think D.S wrote either poem one or poem four for that matter, about the type of people I lost that I loved and that this poem reminded me of. I think hers was intended more romantic and less the love I had for the family members I miss. But there is this line at the end that touched my soul near the end and reminded me immediately of the pain of the loss of love that I still shoulder. With everything taken into consideration with my math, I'm Scoring "Poems" with a score of 92/100. That is a five-star review on Goodreads and Amazon."
Book: Poems Book One

The author lays out clearly the steps that aided her in losing weight. It is easy to follow and the suggestions are easy to implement into your daily life. The book gives you exactly what the author intended to and that is to provide insight on what worked for her.
Book: You can lose weight just like me – from 85kg to 68kg – A Real Life Story

This novella is quick, sweet romance. Kate was with her boyfriend for two years in a dead end relationship. A chance sighting at a job interview places Kate at her dream job and in the presence of her future. She meets Ernst who is seemingly living a double life. Fate draws them together for a HEA. The story was told from a third party point of view. It was very descriptive and the plot was clear and easy to follow. While you knew the plot and where it was going, at times the wording was very stilted, which could lead to some confusion when reading. This also made it difficult for me to connect with the characters and truly invest in the story.
Book: Matters Of The Heart.

The ladies of importance well chosen. The simple words of yours to give them glory, well written.
Book: Poetry on Inspiring Women -Book One























Dedicated to the spirit of freedom and determination

























Poetry on Inspiring Women -Book Three




















Contents








• A Dream Writer
• The Star of the North
• Lady Spy
• I will not be led in a triumph
• Angel of Prisons
• She sells seashells
• The maid of Orleans
• The Queen of Castile
• Doctor of the Church
• The Nobel Peace Prize Environmentalist












A Dream Writer

(In praise of Mary Shelley)





She had a thirst for knowledge and a mind that persevered
A prompt from Byron to write a ghost story, she considered
Morning after morning when all she replied with a negative
It was from one of her wakeful nights, a story she would give

She saw her ghost fable in front of her eyes, with signs of life
She was frightened and spent the night in uneasy wakerife
She began writing her dream and it became "Frankenstein"
She realised that she had stepped out from childhood wherein


When two of her children met with unexpected death
She turned to writing, weeping and holding her breath
She channelled her thoughts on her political freedom
She came up with novels and plays in creative wisdom

She financially aided the women whom society disapproved
It was not in boast, but simple justice that she was moved
She was a political radical throughout her life with empathy
She reformed the society through cooperation and sympathy














The Star of the North

(In praise of Catherine the Great)





Her coronation was one of the main treasures along with cadastres
The Russian Empire extended a little over 2 million square kilometres
Russia emerged as the dominant leader, defeating mighty powers
The Glory of Catherine amidst victories ushered in like thundershowers

She was the pioneer for Russia as an international mediator in disputes
League of Armed Neutrality was one of her key mediation attributes
Industries rose in textiles and ironworks with serfs during her reign
Russian economy, modernized by Volga Germans who were foreign

For funding military needs Government paper money was issued
Assignation Bank and its bank branches were thus pursued
In arts, literature and education, she had earned a reputation
Contributed to comedies, memoirs, encyclopaedia's proliferation

Leading economists became members of Free Economic Society
She recruited scientists to the Russian capital for scientific satiety
In her Nakaz, she issued codes to address modernisation trends
"The Star of the North" in 500 districts and 50 provinces she propends

She was a great patron of Russian opera, culture and arts
With head held high and regal costume, she won over hearts
She conferred "Charter of the Towns" and "Charter to the Nobility"
Her legal innovations bolted Russia to the phase of hypnotisability



Catherine the Great became Russia's longest ruling female leader
She was influenced by modernism and was a conceptualizer
The Catherinian Era was famed the Golden Age of Russia
The enlightened queen revitalised the country in nostalgia

















Lady Spy

(In praise of Vera Atkins)





She began her work in the French section of the SOE as a secretary
She became a de facto intelligence officer as deemed necessary
She recruited and deployed British agents in occupied France
She awaited decoded transmissions sent by them furtherance

Known for her steel-trap intelligence and fierce loyalty absolute
She stood on the runway to watch each take off in a parachute
While Hitler was unaware of Atkin's street smart brilliance
The F Section was equivalent to fifteen division's endurance

She was ardent in the search for F Section's 118 missing agents
Ensured that they were widely recognized for their achievements
In the world of spies, the tight-lipped, outspoken lady was the boss
The Knight of the Legion of Honour was grieved with tremendous loss

In this book, tributes have been written to the following ten women who made an impact in society: Mary Shelley, Catherine the Great, Vera Atkins, Cleopatra, Elizabeth Fry, Mary Anning, Joan of Arc, Isabella of Castile, Catherine of Siena and Wangari Maathai

As I follow through with this story, some beautiful poems do manage to find themselves in here. They are quite sporadic at best, here and there mostly at the end of chapters or at the beginnings.
As I end a chapter and obsess with how best to continue, I often reread previous chapters like 100 times and then procrastinate for like forever as ideas come and go, and in some moments a poem or a simple rhyme surfaces and yea that's how the poems come to be.
At first they seem odd, but I hope you enjoy them as part of the story.
The initial plan is to write an epic trilogy, in the pre-colonial African setting. A tale of two souls completely different in every way, their struggle in the search for meaning. A tale of two villages, of their festering past and perilous future. A tale of love, hate, magic and war. A tale of a journey inwards and outwards. Most of all a tale of life and all that's sacred.
I hope you read and get hooked. Feel free to comment and share your thoughts. Alerts for any typos or misspellings are highly appreciated and I will act on them asap.
Much love and gratitude.
@nightskies92
#teamjohari.
#teammoseti.

Announcement! Announcement!

Hey guys , your favorite author here. Your favorite book Brave Souls : The Lion Heart Series just got signed to EMP Publishers. This means we have MOVED TO A NEW LINK!! 

https://c.webnovel.com/book/18558001905126305

To follow your favorite characters and this amazing adventure please follow the link above or search for the title again and follow it once more. 

I apologise for the brief inconvenience! Hope you follow and get to enjoy the new chapters of this AMAZING African Story. Thank you so much for the love and support. I don't take it for granted.

Thanks again and hope to see you as I forge on. 

Yours truly
Mynightskies92.

Much love.



As I follow through with this story, some beautiful poems do manage to find themselves in here. They are quite sporadic at best, here and there mostly at the end of chapters or at the beginnings. 

As I end a chapter and obsess with how best to continue, I often reread previous chapters like 100 times and then procrastinate for like forever as ideas come and go, and in some moments a poem or a simple rhyme surfaces and yea that's how the poems come to be. 

At first they seem odd, but I hope you enjoy them as part of the story. 

The initial plan is to write an epic trilogy, in the pre-colonial African setting. A tale of two souls completely different in every way, their struggle in the search for meaning. A tale of two villages, of their festering past and perilous future. A tale of love, hate, magic and war. A tale of a journey inwards and outwards. Most of all a tale of life and all that's sacred. 

I hope you read and get hooked. Feel free to comment and share your thoughts. Alerts for any typos or misspellings are highly appreciated and I will act on them asap. 

Much love and gratitude. 

@nightskies92 

#teamjohari. 

#teammoseti.

The Lion Heart Series.

Book one : Brave Souls.

In the far away lands, deep in the African Savannah, the fragile peace between two rival villages will come undone. Two rising warriors find themselves thrust in the middle of it all.

On one side Johari Tembo a simple laid back herds boy born of humble background finds his villages hopes and ultimate responsibility thrust onto him as he battles with his own demons.

While on the other side Moseti Kalibari, the chiefs only son and heir to the chieftain struggles with the yoke of too much expectations burdened onto him by his father the chief and his entire village.

As the war drums cry once more and as the deadly steel blades are honed, an Evil Sorceress hatches an evil plot to unleash a Terrible Darkness unto the world.

Who will fall? Who will conquer? Witness this magical African tale of love, hate and a journey to the spiritual. 

In these breathtakingly harsh and unforgiving lands, only the brave can conquer, only the brave shall survive.

*** Weekly Updates. ***

"...we therefore commit her body to the ground, earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust, looking for that blessed hope when the Lord Himself shall descend from heaven with a shout, with the voice of the archangel, and with the trump of God, and the dead in Christ shall rise first."
Never once had I ever attended a funeral, before, and yet, in the past week I had managed to attend two. How did that even make sense? You go through life blissfully with no worries and life comes to humble you in a brutal manner. The only trauma I had ever experienced in my life was my aunt Cara doing a cough fart on my bed when she came over for Christmas. These things don't happen around here, least of all to me. 
Her coffin began to lower itself before each of her family members poured dirt on it. There wasn't much of them. Just her grandmother, aunt and little brother. Her mother wasn't able to roll herself to the coffin, so she asked her sister to do it for her. I didn't cry, just yet, because I felt as if I wasn't allowed to. I wasn't going to be hypocrite like the rest of them. We were the reason she was down there... all of us.
I heard sniffles beside me and turned to face a red nosed, Amirah holding a Kleenex close to her face. I bet she felt guilty; as she should. My throat started to clog up, as the coffin lowered itself out of sight. She's in there. Dead and alone. What's happening to her right now? What was she seeing? I had the same picture of her in my mind. A time we went to Brighton for a school trip and went ToyVoyaging. That was the last time I saw her happy... genuine happiness. I could tell because she let her gum show when smiled, she didn't like doing that because she was insecure with how dark they were. I wish I told her how beautiful she was. I know we gassed each other up here and there, but I should've told her more. Because she was and she had a lot of people telling her she wasn't.
I don't like this. I don't like not talking but you're not allowed to speak during a funeral. It's finishing soon anyway. I just wanted to go home. Some of her things were still at mine. I wanted to get to them before I had to give it away to her family. "Kiyara, do you wanna go home  or do you want to go to the wake, afterwards?" My mother had asked. Finally, we can speak. 
"I wanna go home, please." As soon as I had uttered those words, Amirah shot a look up at me and sent glares through my soul. "How could you go home at a time like this? We were her best friends, we should stay with her for a while. Please don't leave me, Kiyara. I need you." Her eyes started to soften as she had reached out her hand towards me. For the first time in my life, I stared down at Amirah and said nothing, before I began to walk ahead of my mother. My mother didn't question it, although I could tell she was shocked. "I just can't be here."
"It's okay, you don't have to explain yourself to me." As I got in the passenger seat, I stared out the window and watched the boys in our school hang around a nearby tree. They hung their heads as they kicked the grass below them. One of the boys had caught my stare and held it. I wondered what was going on past that messy black hair. This week couldn't have been easy for him. I wouldn't be surprised if we wounded up attending his funeral next. 
"Do you wanna stop by the KFC drive-thru, honey?" My mother asked, politely as we neared closer to our home. "Or shall we just have the leftovers from two days ago? Or I can cook you a-."
"I don't get it, mum. I know her, she wouldn't do this. She's not the type." I blurted out, ignoring her question. 
"Baby, no one is the type until they are. It's okay to be confused this time."
"Please, don't play shrink. It doesn't suit you."
"Well, what do you want me to say, Kiyara?"
"How about we start with what you're thinking."  My mother took a deep breath and kept her eyes on the road, before she opened her mouth once more. "Well, I'm a bit shaken up and I feel extremely guilty because she spent her last days staying with us and I just want to know what drove her, to do what she did, while she was staying under my roof. I can't understand how I didn't see the signs." I turned to my mother to watch tears streaming down her chin and tiny drops land on her top lip. I figured she would feel the same guilt as me. How were we even suppose to go back home whilst carrying that weight around?  
"Did you see her mum?" I asked, causing my mum to nod. "I know I shouldn't say this but, I wish we were attending her funeral instead."
"Me too." My mother said, to my surprise, as her eyes were still glued on the road.  
"I honestly don't know what to think or feel right now, I don't think it's hit me. I'm never gonna see her again. Mum, I'm never gonna see her again. Eight years I've known that girl and now I'm never gonna see her again. I should've known something was up. The way she was suddenly acting up and would snap at everything,  the way she went missing that time for like two weeks and just showed up out of the blue and she looked so different and all that time she spent with that girl that no one knew. I didn't see her in the funeral."
"You talking about the red headed girl?" My body cut through the air as I turned and nodded. "The one that was dressed really classy and elegant?" I nodded again. "The one that had an umbrella open and it wasn't even raining?"
"Mum, get to the point!" I said, desperately, snapping at her. 
"Oh, yeah, she was there. All the way in the back, behind the boys." 
"What- I- mum, why didn't you tell me?" I asked, stuttering in disbelief. How did I not see her? 
"Was I suppose to?" She asked, as we neared towards our driveway. 
"Yes, she the whole reason we attended that funeral, I know it."
"Kiyara-."
"No, mum seriously. She completely changed after meeting that girl. I saw a different and more nastier side to my best friend that I hadn't seen in the eight years that I had known her. And, now she's gone and that girl had the audacity to show up at her funeral."
"What would you have done if I told you?"
"I would've-."
"You would've... what?" I stayed silent because she was right. I wouldn't have done anything. Causing a scene at a funeral? I'm not in some movie to be getting away with that shit. As my mother parked the car, I took a long look at the house in front of me. Am I actually about to walk in this house, right now?
My mother dropped the keys at the stand, as I closed the door behind us. "I feel dirty." She said taking off her coat and hanging it on the stand. "Why don't you pack her things up before her family gets here. They're gonna come straight after the wake." Nodding I headed up stairs and opened my room. The first thing my eyes had landed on was her black duffle bag she came with. I don't think I want to go through her things, in all honesty. I think I just want process this whole week because it really came out of nowhere. I still don't get why she did it. I mean I get she was changing but I know her, deep down something doesn't-
A rustling came from underneath me, as I leaned in my pillow. Getting up, I moved my pillow away to find a yellow envelope that had my name on it. It's from her. 
I can't believe I hadn't thought of a note. Of course, she wrote a note. Any chance to write something. Picking up the envelope I noticed how heavy it was. I think this was the only time I was glad to read her hefty writing. I wish I had appreciated it more. 
Running downstairs, I found my mother on the couch talking on the phone. "Yeah, we just got home. Oh- she came downstairs-."
"Mum, get off the phone."
"It's your dad." She said taking the phone off her ear and gesturing toward me. 
"I'll speak to him later, this is urgent."
"What?"
"Look." I said, holding up the letter to watch eyes turn wide. 
"Okay, bye." She hastily said, hanging up. "Is it from her?"
"No, it's from Madeline McCann." 
"Just, open it."
"I don't want to, that's why I came down here. You open it." I felt buzz on butt and picked up my phone from my back pocket to find Amirah calling me. I let it ring and pushed the envelope towards my mum. "It has your name on it, I can't read it."
"And, when has that ever stopped you? Hello? My diary."
"Yeah, your diary in year four and I'm sorry for reading about how you had cabbage for lunch. Top secret, CIA, confidential information."
"Mum, please open it." Taking the envelope from me, with defeat, she teared it up. "Be a bit more respectful." She shot a glare up at me, causing me to put my hands up in defence. Taking the letters out she examined them. "I think these are poems. She still writes- wrote poems?" Snatching the paper from my mum, I searched inside the envelope to see if there was  anything else. "That's all she left me? Poems?" 
"Well, there are loads of pages here, there must be a note in here somewhere. Wait, this poem is in red." She said holding up the paper.
"Okay, what's that suppose to mean?" I shrugged, causing my mother to do the same. 
"I don't know, it must mean something."
"This isn't CSI, mother."
"Well, you're the one that came down here all dramatic only to give some poems."
"I thought it was a note. I thought she was gonna explain everything. I thought it was a goodbye." My mother placed the poems on the couch and got up to rest her arm around my shoulder. "Maybe there is a goodbye in one of these. She probably knew how confused you would be and is showing you a side to her that you didn't see, so you could make sense of everything."
"She could walk me step by step through what she did and I still wouldn't understand it." I had said in a low-toned voice. 
"I know, baby. But, at least now you have a piece of her soul that no one else has access to and you keep it for the rest of your life." 


Staying up that night, I spent the time going through her poems. Her aunt came in the afternoon to take her duffleI bag and some of those that she had left in the wash. My phone was switched off besides me since Amirah kept blowing it up. The only thing I had on my mind was being closer to her. It was weird, reading these poems. It didn't seem like her. Normally when people read something from their loved ones, they feel their presence around them. Like they're still around. But reading these gave me an eerie feeling of hollow and emptiness. These weren't her words but it was definitely her handwriting. I mean, I knew she wrote poems and I had read about 2 or 3 but none of them were this deep. 
"Hey, can I come in?" My mother said, knocking and popping her head through the door. 
"Of course." She propped herself besides me, on my bed, as she started to pick up the papers next to her. "So, how's the search for clues going?"
"Eight years of friendship, mum. Eight years I watched her grow up with me and I didn't know her. Not to sound dramatic, but this seems like a stranger. Sure, it's her handwriting but the words... it doesn't sound like her." None of this made sense. The things she was talking about. One poem was a conversation between a flower and the sunset. Like, what is that suppose to mean? They were all so random. Maybe, they had a context I didn't know about. 
"I didn't know she was such a romantic." My mother had said, holding a poem in her hand, that read 'The tale of the sky and the ground'. "How come you didn't tell me she had a man?"
"She was never in a relationship. She would've told me." I said shaking my head in disbelief. But then, I thought to myself. Would she have told me?  "Well, she definitely had it bad." My mother had stated, still reading the poem. 
"I read that poem, it's about the sky and the ground and, like, pollution and shit. It's, like, about climate change and how humans have corrupted the world. I think, when she's talking about the sky she's referring to, like, God." I said, trying my hardest to decipher her words. "There's no way that poem is about love. Where did you get her being in love from?"
"It's definitely about love. Here, let me read it again. 'Carelessly, we walk around, not caring about the tale of the sky and the ground. They were created together you see-."
"Oh, then it must not be God since it was created and-."
"Don't interrupt me." My mother snapped, before she continued reading. "'Carelessly, they walk around, not caring about the tale of the sky and the ground. They were created together, you see, in bliss and harmony. The birds, who were their friends, would pass down messages, without the use of a pen. The sky and the ground would often meet with a crowd that she sent from the clouds. But, things had changed through time, with the birth of mankind. With their inventions that kept the ground bound, and with their pollution, they covered the stars that once comforted the ground. The sky often cries in pain, but their destruction still remains. How silly they were to go down this path. Oh, son of Adam, aren't you scared of the Sky's wrath'. Not only is this about love but, I think it's a threat."
I continued to go through the poems to see if any stood out and I find the poem with the red ink once more. Reading it, I gasped in disbelief, as I shot up from my position. "No way!"
"What? You scared me." My mother breathed, holding her hand on her chest. 
"Mum, this is the song we wrote when we were eleven, during our trip, when you and aunt Camilla took us to Marrakech." I informed her, as she looked at the page I was holding. 
"I told you the red poem meant something." 
"But, you don't understand it doesn't make sense. We attached this to the toy that we were voyaging. Oh, I'm in idiot." I exclaimed, looking at it again. " She re-wrote it. How did she remember it?" 
"Aw, read it."
"Oh, God, prepare to cringe. 'Goodbye toy, I'll miss you, but you must go and sail into the deep blue. Sail on, taking our secret with you, for someone else to grab and cling on to. You'll see things we can't even fathom. You'll go on adventures that we can only imagine. You'll swim with fishes and go to countries that are in our wishes. Oh, how jealous we are of you. Say hi, for us, to the people of Timbuktu. I hope this isn't goodbye and we meet again. But, for now it is. So long, my friend'." Before I knew it, I began to cry and I couldn't stop. My mother, sat up from her comfortable position and held me tight as I cried and cried. "We were so free and innocent. I remember, we quickly finished this so we could go back to our room and watch the new Wizards of Waverly Place episode. Mum, she was my best friend. She was my sister. How could I abandon her when she needed me the most? How could I side with her enemies?" I continued to cry, as I remembered how fun that trip was. No worries. No responsibilities. No deaths. My heart yearned for those days, as it started to pang in my chest. The guilt in gut felt like it was going to rip me open.  "I think this is my note. She wrote it again for me. This is her goodbye."
I held it to my chest and cried even more. "Why don't you put it somewhere safe. You know how you misplace things sometimes. You won't forgive yourself if you lose this."
"I'll put it in my treasure chest." I said, getting up and wiping my tears. 
"Oh yeah, I forgot about your treasure chest draw. You still keep things in there?" 
"It's just easier to keep things in there just incase, so I don't lose it." Opening my cupboard, I unlocked my drawer with the key that was in between my clothes. Opening it, I folded up the poem and was about to put it in until I saw a note with my name on it. "Mum, a note." My mother got up from my bed and sat on her knees next to me. "This one is a bit heavy too."
"If it's another set of poems, I am going to scream." Tearing it up, I unfolded the letter and began to read out loud.



Kiyara! Oh my God, I can't believe your dumb ass actually found this. I thank your mother because I know she probably found this and not you. You're probably so confused but I'm here to explain everything. Sorry for leaving without saying goodbye. I'm sorry if my hand writing is messy, I only have a couple of hours left and I have to write this you. Do not show anyone this letter, except aunt Phaedra. First of all, Kiyara stop feeling guilty. You had every right to be mad at me, I was acting up and you weren't having it. As you shouldn't. I love you so much and know that if I was angry with you I wouldn't be writing this letter to you right now. I had to slip this in your treasure cupboard or box thingy because I couldn't risk anyone else finding this. Oh gosh, I've confused you even more. I waffle so much. Anyway, you deserve to know the truth about everything and you will...

"I fell in love, but, this is not a love story. I killed someone, but, I'm not a murderer. I was found hung but I did not kill myself. Not everything is as it seems in my life."

Novis Tempus was living a normal life: making people laugh, having loads of friends and maintaining average grades. But, all of that changed the minute she made the mistake of allowing herself to fall for Abraham Dilectus. But, this could be fine since everyone believes he has feelings for her too? However, she's not too convinced.

When she befriends a woman outside of her school, she soon finds out there are easier ways in life to get everything you want. But, easy doesn't always mean right. 

TW//: This novel contains serious topics such as: Depression; Anxiety; Suicide; Abuse; Eating Disorders, Gory imagery; dark humour

If you are someone who is triggered easily, please, do not read this book as I will be partially speaking of my own experience and it won't be easy.

"Claire, what is happening?"
"Is he okay?"
"Gush, I don't know what to do."
"Claire, please let me in"

My mind is full of thoughts. I don't know what to say nor do. I kept asking Claire what is happening even though I can see it clearly. I begged her to let me in but she didn't let me. I kept crying over and over again that night. It's like half of me is dying. The clock is ticking but still Claire is in that room for like 30 minutes. I don't want to sleep because maybe just maybe when I wake up he's gone. So my feet brought me to his messy room. All the books are scattered everywhere. The papers are sticking on the wall and the pens inks are all over his bed. I decided to fix that mess while waiting for some news about him from Claire. I arrange the books on his table, pick up all the papers on the wall and floor. I also requested some new bed sheets for him. As I'm on my way putting the last book on his desk I saw a book entitled "ANFS" with a note written on it "On going story of my life" Out of curiosity I opened it. It is a draft of the book I requested last time. I really wanted to know what's inside of it. He said he didn't want to share his life with others and I'm just wondering why we wrote this draft. Liam is a great writer of fictional stories but I never read  true to life stories from him. He believes that happiness only exists in fictional stories and happy endings only exist in love stories he made. Liam is a realistic person he never believes in imagination nor dreams. I remember one time I asked him "Liam, what is your dream?" and he replied "I don't have any dreams. Leah, I'm stuck in this damn hospital for years and now you're asking me what is my dream? Do you think that a patient like me who's going to die anytime soon will have a dream? Leah, please be realistic."  and by that time I never asked him about life anymore. 
As I opened the book I saw a little note on the first page saying:
"To the person reading this thank you for being such a wonderful human being. I hope in our next life you will have the healthiest lungs in the world. You deserve all the best in the world. Thank you for always reminding me about happiness. I promise that I will fight this battle until the day I find happiness in this world."
-Happily breathing borrowed air,
Liam

I don't know if I will continue reading this book because by the time I saw the note my tears started to fall. I never imagined that Liam would see me as a good human being. He always pushes me away like I'm just a piece of trash for him. He never told me that  he's thankful to have me. As I'm scanning the pages of the book I saw a lots of illustrations and words (of course) the draft contains  10 chapters and the titles of each chapter is somehow catchy but I wonder how these titles are made. Like the title of chapter one.

*Reading*

"Chapter One: The poems of 16"
When I was a kid I used to live with my grandparents. They are the ones who raised me.They taught me so many things in life. But as I grow every year my mind starts to wonder so many things in life. I remember that time when I was 6 or 7  years old I always wondered how stories and lyrics are made. I used to ask my grandfather how authors and composers make such a great story  and songs. I will never forget what  he said to me that time. When he was a kid like me he used to write poems. Life hits him hard and no one will ever understand how he feels and there comes a time that he also does not understand  how he truly  feels so, he turns it into a poem. He said that stories, poems and songs are made when a person doesn't understand the message of the heart. He always reminds me that when you can't understand everything in my mind it's better to turn it into poems or stories. If you can't explain how everything goes in your life it's better to just make it more sensible. Make a story out of it and let that story tell how you truly feel. As time went by my grandfather died  I never had a chance to say how he changed my perspective in life since I was a kid and also that time my grades started to fall. I cannot forget how depressed I am when I got low grades in music. I don't know what to do at that time. So, I decided to write a poem. I try to put in some words that will match how I truly feel. That is the first time I wrote a poem while crying. I don't know how I did that or how I constructed the poem. All I know is that poem comforts me when no one else wants to. As time went by I started to write a lot of poems and little by little I also started to write novels. After my grandfather died everything was out of place. I'm studying and currently in my third year. Everything seems to be fine 2 or 3 years ago but then everything breaks when the path I chose turns to be the path that will ruin everything. I enjoyed learning new stuff and I'm sure every student enjoyed their student life. But it will be more enjoyable when you have friends. I don't have one. I didn't even feel I belonged to anyone. All I have is myself and my untold poems. They seem to be my friends when I need someone to talk to. I do everything alone. It's sad to be alone but that's how life is, you never know who will stay with you at the end. Maybe you're lucky enough when someone stays even in your hardest times but if there's none you must learn to love yourself. " 

Liam's childhood days aren't the same as other people's childhood days. He learned so many things in life when he's still young. As I read the first chapter of his life I started to understand every single thing of his perspective. Little by little I understand his realistic side when it comes to life.  It's hard to survive life alone. It's hard to be the only one that knows how you feel. As the time continues to pass I still don't know how everything goes. Claire hasn't come back yet since she went to the ICU so I decided to read more chapters.

"Liam, what is your dream?"

"I don't have any dreams. Leah, I'm stuck in this damn hospital for years and now you're asking me what is my dream? Do you think that a patient like me who's going to die anytime soon will have a dream? Leah, please be realistic."

When two people meet in times that dream doesn’t exist in reality would they choose to be realistic even if their lives are coming to an end? Will they see their purpose in this world? Will they believe in the magic of dreams, love, and hope?

About William Wordsworth
William Wordsworth was a great english romantic poet who, with Samuel Taylor Coleridge, helped to launch the Romantic Age in English literature with their joint publication Lyrical Ballads (1798). Here are some of his other best poems along with The Prelude to be read and shared.
Browse all poems and texts published on William WordsworthWordsworth's famous poem is generally considered to be The Prelude, a semiautobiographical poem of his early years that he revised and expanded a number of times. It was posthumously titled and published, before which it was generally known as "the poem to Coleridge".
 
William Wordsworth Poems
" As faith thus sanctified the warrior's crest"
"Advance - Come Forth From Thy Tyrolean Ground"
"And Is It Among Rude Untutored Dales"
"Avaunt All Specious Pliancy Of Mind"
"Behold Vale! I Said, When I Shall Con"
"Brave Schill! By Death Delivered"
"Brook! Whose Society The Poet Seeks"
"By Moscow Self-Devoted To A Blaze"
"Call Not The Royal Swede Unfortunate"
"When I Have Borne In Memory"
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Paragraph on Patriotism: Love towards one’s motherland is called patriotism and it is about being courageous and proud and then taking that pride and putting it into action. A patriotic person sees themselves as a proud and responsible citizen of a country and also thinks about the choices they make which might reflect on the country.

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Paragraph on Patriotism – 100 Words for Classes 1, 2, 3 Kids
Patriotism is an act of courage and valour towards your country. It means keeping the interests of the country before your own personal needs. It makes the nation stronger. We refer to our nation as the ‘motherland’ and love towards it is a must. We must respect our ‘motherland’ and work to make this country a better place for us to live in. There are 3 patriotic days that we celebrate in our ‘motherland’ India – January 26: when the constitution of India was made, August 15: when India was declared a free country and October 2: the birthday of Gandhi Ji.

Paragraph on Patriotism - 100 Words for Classes 1, 2, 3 Kids

Paragraph on Patriotism – 150 Words for Classes 4, 5 Children
Patriotism helps in building a country with a better future so that people live in harmony with each other. It does not always mean fighting and being violent, it means showing passion and sacrifice towards the nation. Showcasing the love for the country only on occasions such as Republic Day, Independence Day and Gandhi Jayanti is not true patriotism. True patriotism is respecting the country & taking pride while showing love and respect to the country. It also leads to the elimination of selfishness and corruption which will help the country grow and develop faster. The nation does not belong to one person, rather it belongs to all of us so all of us must come together to make our nation the best. Our soldiers stand at the border(s) each and every day to keep this country or us safe.

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