Tuesday, May 19, 2009
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
This blog was created to give CES students information about the YWP prompts. Students from CES may submit their writing here to get feedback from their peers and when they are ready, may turn it over for submission to the YWP site.
The YWP web site, www.youngwritersproject.org, where registered students post writing, respond to prompts, receive and give respectful feedback, read tips on writing, post audio stories, engage in online workshops and discuss books, news and life.
What the "Deadline" means
Because submissions are due to be posted at youngwritersproject.org by Friday at 3pm:
-Handwritten submissions due to Ms. Sexton or Mrs. Dinnan by Thursday at 3pm.
-Blogged submissions posted to site by Friday at 2:30pm.
-Handwritten submissions due to Ms. Sexton or Mrs. Dinnan by Thursday at 3pm.
-Blogged submissions posted to site by Friday at 2:30pm.
Blog Archive
As i walk on the rain sodden earth after days of relentless rain... i can't help but feel lucky to be alive. Because with every step i take under the moon light is breath-takeing. It looks as if someone has taken a thousand rare jewels and scattered them upon the ground. That is what makes living each day such a glourous gift. I also like to sit by the creek to hear it's silver tinkeling that it makes as it runs over the rocks, making them as smooth as it's gental whispered song. I bealive that we should make the most of life for we are only here once and that makes us appraecate all the littel things in life. There is not a more beautiful place to live than vermont.
ReplyDeleteThere is something that is important to me.
ReplyDeleteIt has my favorite songs on it. It can take my MP3. IT takes my CD’s. It plays my radio and tells time. what is it.
As I lay by the creek it sounds as if it's whispering to me. I lay in a clearing on smooth green green grass and gaze at the silently twinkeling stars. I hear the peeper's cheerful night time song. The creek sounds as if it is whispering a gental summertime song. There is a warm southern breeze that gently plays across my face. It smells of the sweet honey suckle and sweet grass that grows on the other side of the river. There is so many times that I've come to the banks of the river to hear it's gental song of peace and comfort. As I lay I feel my worries flow down the creek forgoten. My body heals and my pain is left behind. I am free.
ReplyDelete