Spring DWA

The Power of the Heart

Author’s Note: I recently read the book Catching Fire (the second book in the Hunger Games trilogy) by Suzanne Collins.  This book is about protecting the things you love, and risking your life for others.  In this piece I am going to use more repetitive patterns, similes, metaphors, and other semantic and syntactic devices.  I also tried to include more A/B transitions and add a few connections from this book and some other situations.

"The hunger for love is much more difficult to remove than the hunger for bread."- Mother Teresa.  Love is the uncontrollable feeling of passion that runs through your body and you can't seem to know why.  You'll do anything and everything for this feeling.  It’s the feeling where it's no longer gravity holding you to the earth.  Where everything around you disappears and all that seems to matter you and what you love -- this is what we all desperately search for throughout our lives.  Everyone wants the feeling of being essential to someone else's life; who wouldn’t want to feel important, loved, and special?  The power of this feeling is driven by the heart. This feeling was started when life was first created and it will live on forever.  You would do the impossible and put your life on the line for the protection of your loved one.  Love is the most powerful force there is.

There are many characteristics that collide with the word love, one being happiness.  In a tower a billion miles into the air, a beautiful princess longs for the arrival of her beloved prince -- the hero in a supernatural fight, a light in the dark, and the key to her heart.  When you’re feeling melancholy or isolated, you can rely on the one your heart belongs to.  They were the one you've been waiting for.  Putting their life in danger for your safety would be a natural instinct for them.  Love will cure the whole in your heart, and it will bring a glowing ball of happiness into your world. 

Happiness motivates you to keep your chin up -- supporting you and giving you strength.  Love is exactly like a wall.  The strength to persevere, hope, pride, and a chance of a brighter day are created.  They both look at the faithful citizens of a powerful city; both of them smile at each other, because they are one big team.  They are inseparable, unified, and connected.  Nothing can break them apart, because without one another their hope, pride, and chance of a brighter day are gone.  Together they are strong, but apart they have no chance.

Nothing is stronger than knowing that people like you when you are yourself.  People like you for you, because if you can't be yourself around the ones you love, what's the point?  The most important quality of love is that it brings out the real you.  You aren't pretending to be something you’re not, you aren't hiding the real you, and you aren't shying away from yourself.   Being yourself is the best thing you can be.  Not only are you the person that you really are, but then you know who you are.  There is no better person that you can be but yourself.

Believe in the powers of love; they give us happiness, strength, and the real you.  Life isn't perfect and love has its ups and downs, but the risk of pain, loss, and sacrifice is worth love.  We were all born to love and pass on its meaning.  Linking strangers together and passing the wonderful feelings that course through our veins is the heart's power at work.  Nothing is stronger that this feeling that we all know.  Love is a feather, delicate, beautiful, and unique, but if you let it go it you will never find one just like it.

 

Curaçao

Author’s Note: A few weeks ago we were on spring break.  I haven’t written about my vacation yet, so this is one thing I can distinctly remember from the vacation.  We went to Curaçao, which is an island off of South America, but it’s technically a European country considering it is owned by the Dutch.  That’s not the main focus of this piece.  I decided to write about the beautiful island it is.  In this piece I tried to be very descriptive in my voice and make sure that my sentences weren’t too close in length.  

As we hop into the spacious van parked outside on the back of the shore, I pan the view of this country that I have never seen.  Palm trees line the perimeter of the shore and dance in the cool spring breeze.  It’s was nice day at the beach.  Every part of this country was scenic to me. 

I have never seen so many houses of the same style and design lined in a row.  All the houses are so close that I bet you could hear a sink turn on in your neighbor’s house; not that sticking together is a bad thing.  Although, there is one quality that is different about every building: the color.  Lime green, then Caribbean blue, then a royal violet -- the houses have a quality of their own.  Some have a mural painted on the side and some have a bold color that makes them different but very similar to the others. 

A place like this was one of a kind: small, lively, and beautiful.  What would it be like to live here?  We listened to the driver talk about her excitement to open her own bed and breakfast with all her savings.  I loved the smile on her face and the joy in her voice.  In a small country like this and making the best out of it to fulfill her dream -- I would be happy to live a life like hers. 

 Then, I thought about me, and how wonderful things would be in Curaçao.  Having a fresh start, tasting the sea salt spray at my face every other day, learning to be like the people here.  It was a gorgeous place, even though it didn’t seem to offer much. There was one thing it offered though, a change. 

When she dropped us off at the port we waved good-bye and wished her good luck with her hotel.  I felt sad to be leaving, but I knew we had to go.  This place really changed my life, and I know I will return and see this place once again.  Taking a deep breath of the salty air, we handed the crew member our boarding pass.  Looking at the island, I knew I would come back some day.

 

Liberty’s Beginning

Author’s Note: I wanted to write a short story, because I haven’t written one in awhile.  For this piece I created a story with more word choice techniques instead of dialogue to create emotion and character.  This piece is focused on the romantic mode of literature.  In this piece I tried to keep my ideas flowing and use as many of my own original ideas as possible.  I paid a lot of attention to my voice and semantic devices in this piece.

            The ear shattering screeches of people in which life didn’t grant a wish to -- there is unfairness that no one can help.  I look at these strangers as if they are family.  We are all people of this nation.  We are all people suffering loss and conflict.  We are all people who hope for the best, and yet we will never be given that.  Gray clouds swallow the blank canvas that we stare at every day.  Our world is engulfed in misery, because our citizens will not stand up for a better civilization.  Restricted from what we want and what we should have -- we are the people that are victims of injustice.

            As the skies dim, I begin to think that our lives should be changed.  This should not be the only time for me to take a breath; I should be able to have enough time during the day to think about myself.  From daybreak to dusk all I hear is, “Liberty, don’t forget to…” or “Liberty, can you…”  All of us here deserve better lives.  Tonight, I fall asleep exhausted; in a small village like this one, all we do is work.  By the time the rooster crows, I’m already in the village walking by grouchy shop owners; everyone is as lifeless as I am at the moment.  We all know that we merit better than what we have right now. 

            Another day of working in the fields -- we harvest as many crops as we can before the season is over.  Everyone is dreading the fact that in a matter of weeks we will be plunged into a long period of glacial icicles and snow mounds.  At the same time, autumn is most adored time of all.  After the harvest, we all gather in the village square and have a festival with the most delicious meal and a wonderful time with our community.  Before all the festivities begin, we all dedicate our hands to finding the best produce while it lasts.

            The time has finally come to put on my best outfit and head off to the party.  My dress is a casual, sky blue garment that barely touches the floor tiles; it leaves just enough room for my mother’s old white shoes to peek out. To complete my magnificent attire, I added a small silver necklace with a rose pendant.  I grasped my picnic basket full of luscious fruits that I harvested this morning and walk into the magnificent night air.  All of us know that the celebration has begun seeing the harvest moon shining high in the sky, accompanied by the dazzling stars that seemed so close that you could reach out and snatch one.  Nearby, I can hear the laughter of our cheerful people, smell the delicious pastries everyone gladly baked, and feel the rhythmic beat of the music that we all dance to around the fire.

            I arrived and met my friends.  They all carried smiles as wide as the fields.  We sat on small stools that were arranged in a circle as we talked and ate.   The flames crackled and danced to the flute’s melody.  After we were all satisfied by our meals, we joined the others and held hands, skipping around the golden glow. That was the most wonderful day we had all year.  All the days we lived before and after this day were frowned upon, because all we did was work from the crack of dawn until nightfall.  No one said it out loud, but we all knew there was much more to life than this.

            Slowly, the square began to clear out and the only people who were still there enjoying the night while it lasted were me and my best friend, Jane.   Jane and I knew each other the first day we started our harvesting jobs.  Our fathers had silversmith jobs together.  Ever since we met, all we ever dreamed of was seeing the rest of the world.  Everyone else would go home and play with dolls and miniature tea sets, but we would pretend to travel to the free land.  Seeing the pastel colored butterflies migrate to the north was taunting. After gathering crops, we would weave tall grass from the fields and dye them with berries to make wings like we saw on the monarchs. 

            Jane’s mother would never let her travel; she has her suspicions.  As for my mother, she had always said, “If you never try, you will never know what could’ve been.”  It would be difficult to leave everything behind, but I knew I had to.  I parted ways with Jane and we both headed home. 

            “Mother, I’m leaving,” I stated with pride.

            “Well then,” she swiftly sauntered away and came back with a large, tan bag with minute wheels. “You’re going to need this.”  We both smiled and each other.  My mother was my hero; she was always by my side.  I threw my best clothes and some gold and silver coins into my suitcase.

            The next morning, I headed to the mainland to find transportation.  My long caramel colored hair rippled behind my back as the sweet scents of spring filled my lungs.  Today was the most brilliant autumn day we had all year.  As I walked along the wide, cobblestone road, I thought to myself; there are many fairytales without a happy ending, but mine will have one.  Here I am on my way to America, the land of the free.