Pages From My Journal

I love words. That makes me a wizard. That makes me a superhero. That makes me a builder. That makes me a collector. That makes me an artist. Words give me my own magic. Words give me my own power. Words give me my own tools. Words give me my own treasures. Words give me my own masterpieces. Then, my spells can help ... or hurt.  Then, my powers can save ... or damage. Then, my tools can build ... or destroy. Then, my treasures can encourage ... or enrage  Then, my art can lift ... or bury. If words are magic, If words are a superpower, If words are a treasure, What side am I on?    ~Alyson   (P.S. This post may or may not be connected to the fact Captain America: The Winter Soldier comes out on Friday : ) Can't wait!)

          I hate poetry.       That's not a joke. I despised learning about classic poets, meter, similes, and everything else my mom felt was important for me to learn.             The only time I enjoyed reading poetry was before I knew what it was. I remember when I was a little girl around the age of six. I found a worn, green hardback book stuffed on one of the many bookshelves in our basement. It was my mom's copy of  A Child's Garden of Verses  by Robert Louis Stevenson when she was a little girl. These poems brought me to a place where my imagination could think of anything it wanted. I loved the feeling those poems brought. I didn't have to know why made the poem make me happy. I just knew it did.             Once, I had to learn the structure behind the words, the rules behind the sound, and the supposed intentions behind the writers...