StorytimeWednesday

  May all who read this posting know that I am wishing you a very happy and joyous Valentine's Day filled with love, laughter, and long-lasting companionship with the one you love. 

  Hi There, I have been in the hospital over the last few month and haven't been able to do my weekly posts, much less create any posts. Trust me when I say not being able to be creative has been the hardest for me to deal with. Being stuck in the hospital has been depressing for sure. Although I am now home, I am still layed up, but my depressive state is slowly disappearing. Wish me luck. See you at the keyboard soon. EAK

 Many have asked me over the years how do I write a book or movie script? My response is always the same, the movie script comes first then the book is written. However, it's not always that simple. You have to have a story idea and a picture in your mind as to who your main characters will be and the location for the story idea. If research has to be conducted, then it's off to the library or many hours on the internet researhing history, a location, or a city to ensure I can describe it correctly and accurately. Once I have my research done and my story concept locked down it's easier to begin the concept of writing the story down on paper. But that's not the reality of writing a book or script, there are other steps that must be taken before I can sit down and begin writing. Here is what has to happen before you can even think about writing a book or movie script, first you have to have an idea for a story.  You must come up with a story concept . Ask yourself will y...

  The Poets by  Eavan Frances Boland  They, like all creatures, being made For the shovel and worm, Ransacked their perishable minds and found Pattern and form And with their own hands quarried from hard words A figure in which secret things confide. They are abroad: their spirits like a pride Of lions circulate, Are desperate, just as the jewelled beast, That lion constellate, Whose scenery is Betelgeuse and Mars, Hunts without respite among fixed stars. And they prevail: to his undoing every day The essential sun Proceeds, but only to accommodate A tenant moon, And he remains until the very break Of morning, absentee landlord of the dark.

  A Flower Given to My Daughter Frail the white rose and frail are Her hands that gave Whose soul is sere and paler Than time's wan wave. Rosefrail and fair — yet frailest A wonder wild In gentle eyes thou veilest, My blueveined child.

  REQUIESCAT Tread  lightly, she is near    Under the snow, Speak gently, she can hear    The daisies grow. All her bright golden hair    Tarnished with rust, She that was young and fair    Fallen to dust. Lily-like, white as snow,    She hardly knew She was a woman, so    Sweetly she grew. p. 68 Coffin-board, heavy stone,    Lie on her breast, I vex my heart alone,    She is at rest. Peace, Peace, she cannot hear    Lyre or sonnet, All my life’s buried here,    Heap earth upon it.

  I WILL not follow you, my bird, I will not follow you. I would not breathe a word, my bird, To bring thee here anew. I love the free in thee, my bird, The lure of freedom drew; The light you fly toward, my bird, I fly with thee unto. And there we yet will meet, my bird, Though far I go from you Where in the light outpoured, my bird, Are love and freedom too. George William Russell