Lovebug's blog

Tick-Tock.

Time.

Hate it.  Love it.

It can be your friend or your worst enemy.

You need it, but you may not want it at that point in time. 

Tick-Tock.

Where would you be with out it?

Would things be moving slower than death do us apart or faster than warp speed?

Tick-Tock.

Being on time.  Being late for that very important date.

The minute, hour, and second hand moves in a rhythm. 

Tick-Tock.  Tick-Tock.

Father time sings to the rhythm of time. 

Tick-Tock

Time.

Time is of the essential. 

Close your eyes 

Imagine a world

A world with no war, terrorists, or violence,

A world where everyone loves one another,

A world where one is happy everyday.

Now open your eyes. 

Take a look around you.

The world may not be perfect as the world I just explained.

We can try,

But, we probably won't succeeded.

But hey at least we tried.

So let us together make the world a better place.

A world we can call.......

"Home Sweet Home." 

A young, small boy thought everything of his family.

His wanton family.

He knew he had to help provided his family with everything they need.

The young, small boy knew he had to get a job to help his family.

But every person he went to started to sneer at him.

Saying he was to small and to weak to work for them.

But he found a job working for a painter.

The young, small boy painted for hours, with the help of the painter, he painted bracken.

"You start out with something simple, then work your way up," the painter told the boy.

The boy used the finest enamel, when he was done, to make the paintings glow with appearance.

The young, small boy painted with grace and poise.

Always doing his best.

When other painters saw his work, they try to coax him to paint for them.  

"No," he said, "I only paint for this painter for he is like my kin."

The painter, in return, helped the boy and his family.

He helped them become the family every one dreams of. 

Writing Words

by Paige Tuttle

(Editor's note: This was selected for publication on vpr.net. Each week YWP selects a top story to be highlighted by Vermont Public Radio. If you'd like your piece to be considered, RECORD yourself reading the piece and upload the mp3 the audio. Put in the keyword podcast. For more selections: http://www.vpr.net/program_archive/229/)

You may think I'm only good for writing words.

You may use me only for your advantage,

You might only pick me for my flower or smiley face pattern

But let me just say that I am more then just an utensil to help you get your task done.

You have no idea how much pain I have to endure just so you can sharpen me to the point.

Then I just break.

Then once again you sharpen me.

You sharpen and sharpen and sharpen me. Oh the pain.

You sharpen me until I am just a little stump.

Then you throw me in the plastic bag next to your teacher's desk.

In that bag I find comfort for only a short time. Read more »

    It was a dark, cold, mysterious night.  I was alone.  I was in my study finishing the last chapter to my novel.  All you can hear was the scratching of my quill and the pitter patter of little rain drops hitting against my window.  The candle was the only thing the lit up the room.  All in all it felt peaceful.  But then I heard a Creeeeek.  I froze.  A drop of ink landed on the page.  Only one sound made that noise in my house.  The basement door.  Boom!   Thunder started to bust like a canon in the dead of night.  Crash! Went the lighting.  Bang!  The windows burst open.  My papers flew all over.  The candles life was cut short.  I ran a closed the window.

     "What in God's name is happening?" I told myself.

       I got down on my knees and started pick up my papers as best as I could since the candle died.  Thump, thump, thump.  

       "What was that,"  I whispered. Read more »

It felt like yesterday when we sat in those chairs,

Watching the waves roll by like rumbling thunder.

It felt like yesterday that we shared a laugh,

Oh how those jokes were funny.

But those days are gone since you left that day.

You left that day leaving an empty chair behind you.

Sometimes I’ll reach out to hold your hand,

But my hand only grips the cold, empty air. Read more »

Life is like a rose,

Ready to burst open and see the new world.

Life is like a beating drum,

it goes a slow yet powerful pace.

Life is like a waterfall,

It flows right through it's toughest obsctales.

Life is like a volcanoe,

It explodes with anger, pain, and excitement.

Life is anything and everything.

So be prepared to see what life is like. 

We are all born different.  Some unique, some normal.  If you are born in the unique category welcome to my world trust me it’s a horrible life.  No questions about it.  Wait you have questions let me go back to the very beginning of my life. Read more »

“You can run but you can’t hide,” yelled the Voice.  The Voice sent shivers up my spine.  I ran.  I ran as fast as my legs could carry me.  The Voice’s footsteps followed me.  Tap, tap, tap.  I kept on running.  Then all of a sudden a door appeared in front of me.  I opened it, ran inside and slammed the door shut.  Read more »

Sitting Here with the sun on my face 

blessed that I live in such a place  Read more »