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					My Portfolio




Megan Samples Period 3 Creative Writing 2
     Table Of Contents   Portfolio 2
                         1- daisies
                         2- wasteland
Portfolio 1
                         3- meine schwester who?
1- my inspiration        4- letter to your self
2- the lachrymose        5- cheesecake
3- dream
4- the retribution
5- rip
My Inspiration



                 My inspirations in writing and also in life
                 are anyone with intellect. Those, like my
                 mother for instance, who strive for
                 knowledge. Writers, singers, artists,
                 teachers, people who truly make a
                 difference or an impact on the world. My
                 mother always told me, “Megan,
                 knowledge is power. Even if its harmful to
                 you, or even if you don’t want to know, its
                 power. And darling, power like that is
                 what will get you through life”. I will
                 always remember what she said to me, I
                 think i was around 10 years old. Those
                 are my true inspirations.
I once had a dream that the world we live in was full of people like me. Full of hate. That in society
people are like machines, the majority not seeing the joys and simple pleasures in life. Taking
advantage of peoples kindness. That people were breaking down the cultural infrastructure of life,
which is in whole meaning. Having purpose. While others pull together in times of need, we, the
social butterflies of corruption, pull apart. Like unraveling a set of DNA. Why we are like this we don’t
know. It is ones dream to be perfect. It is what we aim for no matter how much we bury it inside. And
while we are hated we are also respected, for somewhere in the emotion of fear hides a hint of
respect. Maybe we are like this because of our childhood’s, our upbringings. Maybe we are like this
because of you, hear to reveal your flaws. You, being society that is. Or maybe no one is to blame. We
are just reminders of everything you hate about yourself. Here to remind you to never forget that
things have to get worse before they get better. To remind you to never forget that the “bad” people
in life make the good ones seem so much better. To let you think back and remember the good times.
To remind you, that life is what you make it. That life is just a dream. We are just a constant reminder,
of everything you hate about yourself.
We watch as the fear inside them grows everyday
The words deafening through our televisions
The anguish of others slapping us in the face              The Retribution
As we watch them cry
It hits us like clanking chains
We send our beloved to their decree
And pray they will walk away undamaged
Even though we know they won’t
The casualties will continue to be carried
Their fears relived day after day
Month after month
Year after year
Their nightmares carried by only themselves
And without them we are a dappled drab
A country voided of its bravest
With the uncertainty of a disappearing snake
But even though death will continue
With the justifications of democracy ringing in our ears
We will stay the course and deliver you from evil
Even though our sons are dying
Our daughters are dying
Our husbands, wives, aunts, uncles
Children, our children are dying
We will continue this immoral crusade
Because this is the reimbursement for our actions
This is our retribution
Our vengeance
His war.
      I remember sitting there and thinking, this sort of thing
      doesn’t happen to real
      people. It only happens in movies, and to people you
RIP   remotely know, not to people your
      friends with. You know, you see it on TV and read it in
      books, but it never happens in
      real life. I remember listening to my sister and the words
      she was saying going in one ear
      and out the other. How when she said, “Megan, Wes died
      in a car crash”, the words
      couldn’t have hit harder.


       We went to the crash site, a lot of people did, the
       day everyone found out. There
       were candles and balloons, flowers. Everyone signed
       a cross to put on the residence that
       froze all our lives. The only thought that kept
       running through our minds was, how could
       this happen? People talked and smoked cigarettes
       and cried, police were there, parents,
       students, and friends.
. Everyone knew him, and no one ever
saw him without that big
goofy smile on his face. Its revolting to
think that something so kind and
beautiful can be
taken in such a brutal manner. To
think that people drink and drive all
the time and get
away with it, but a kid makes a
mistake and pays the ultimate price for
his blunder.
At his wake, I
remember standing
next to Grant and                                                                                    …no one
Drew, walking next                                                                                   said
to them
up to his coffin. We                                                                                 anything. It
were all holding                                                                                     didn’t even
hands, and I will
never forget the                                                                                     look like
sweaty yet cold                                                                                      him…
feeling they both
had to them. We
walked up together,
and when we saw
him no one
moved. No one said
anything, because
no one could. It
didn’t even look like
him. It
wasn’t him.


                    We went outside and they broke down yet somehow I stayed together for
                    them. We sat down, and I held them both as we all cried. Thinking and remembering all
                    the times that all of us hung out, sat together, laughed together, got pissed off together.
Our group of friends, the very thing we based our daily lives on was gone. Our circle was
dismembered. And while he paid the price for his mistake, so did we. And we still do
today. When we all went to his house, I remember Randy and Joey B playing the song
they wrote for him. How we all crowded around and cried. I cried on Joey’s shoulder
while randy sang his heart out.

People talked to the family, to friends. Enemies were brought together. People that hated each other came together for
Wes, and for his family. People sang and laughed and cried. They smoked and talked and hugged. This is a night I
will remember forever. The look on his mothers face, the feel of Joey’s shirt wiping the tears from my face. How
tightly Grant hugged me.
The next day in school we were all expecting to see him
just come running in and
laugh, like hey guys what’s the big deal? Instead, we
walked into school knowing we
would face a day of remorse and mental anguish. And in
5 days from this very day,
October 10th, we will all remember again. We will put our
lives on hold for Wes Griggs,
and for Vernon. We will remember forever the day they
died. The day they crashed into
the telephone pole. The day they ended their lives, and
halted those of everyone around
them.
          The image stays within my mind
Daisy’s   Like a desert to a rose
          The smell of it lingers on my lips
          How only nature knows
          It slips beyond my fingertips
          The dew drops to the ground
          Its melody inside itself
          I have finally found.
          A Single peddle rests in my palm
          For all to find and stare
          Its message is plain to see
          Jealousy is not fair.
          Its beauty is not hidden
          Its plain for all to see
          It creates feeling of defense
          Deep inside of me.
                Wasteland

               Together we are here
 Wasting away with pipes and menthol cigarettes
         Dipping ash into empty coke cans
Sailing through time without paying our mortgage
      You sell your land as if it were yourself
      And I sell my soul as if it were nothing
           I would have burned with you
                 Had you asked me
                   I would have left
   Ran away with you to that empty wasteland
  Drowned inside secrets under a corroding sky
               Together we are here
     Burned into Mexico under electric fences
     Buried in toxins and breaths of pollution
You would sell your land in return for your temper
           And I would sell you my soul
               If it only amused you.
Meine schwester who?
Who is rain on a summer day
My wet in a dry season
My light in darkness
Who is pearl
Sterling silver
Life, an elaborate dream
Earth angel
Meine schwester, sie ist grune und blau
Schwartz und gelb
Who is June
Who is Cookies
A cold glass of milk
Who calls me little sister even though I feel older
Who asks me along though she knows I cant go
Who is the sun in winter
My dry in the wet season
Who is a frozen lake
Who is a melted glacier
Meine Schwester
Who is pearl.
Dear Megan,
               One day you will be reading this, and you'll be thinking about the day you wrote this. The day that
Matt Foradori asked you to dinner behind Tracy's back, the day that Randy Smith told you that he would take
you to the movies every single night if you wanted him to, the day that you auditioned for the musical and
performed your first monologue your 11th grade year. This day that our country is at war, the 125 gallon fish tank
is leaking, and the day mom yelled at you at 6 in the morning for having Cyrus in your bed. The day that you
were excited to drive Brookes cabrio to school and finished Kayla's photo project. The day you slept through two
class periods in a row and got pissed off at your teacher. The day you almost got caught for texting in class, the
first day you wore your glasses to school. One day you'll look back on this day and think how miniscule it all is,
even though now it is a huge deal about all these little things. One day you'll look back and realize how much
you've changed.




                            <3 Me
                Cheesecake, resting,
                on my lonely plate
V               Smooth
 A              Delicious.
                Smooth and delicious.
        N       The taste of summer
            I   Tickles my taste buds
                Shhh….
        L       Listen to them sing.
    L           Cold Confection
A               Of delight
                I do not want you
                But you tempt me so
                I.
                Am tempted
                And I shiver.
                Candle Lit by a burning flame
                Flames of affection
                Vanilla candle
                My nose trembles in thanks
                Appreciation for your scent
                So, ever so soft
                A feather against my nose.
                Fin.
                          I feel like this year as a writer I have grown. I’ve learned a
  Reflections             lot more about what I enjoy writing, and what I do not, and
                          even when I write something I don’t enjoy, it still helps me.
                                                         I think that lessons I’ve
                                                         learned in this class could
                                                         help me in future English
                                                         classes moving on to college.
                                                         The best piece of writing in
                                                         my portfolio is probably
                                                         Wasteland, which was
                                                         recently published. I love
                                                         what this poem represents and
                                                         I loved writing it. It just
                                                         means a lot to me.
The only strategy I’ve learned to overcome challenges in writing is just keep writing.
My strengths I think were more so in my poetry than in short stories, etc. I’ve learned
an important lesson about myself this year, being that I need to work harder to get
things in. I need to continue to develop my all around motivation as a writer, even
when I think I cant write I just have to do it, and write every day to really get better.

				
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posted:8/23/2011
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