Author: eternity1030

Love never dies.

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Nowadays, writers and directors are making an increasing number of love movies featuring strange species like monsters, vampires, wolves,or aliens. As people are getting tired watching the “old” monsters, a brand new love story between human and zombie came out, named “Warm Bodies.”

Last weekend, I watched it again with Vivian, and as I expected, I still loved it.

Breaking the traditional rule of “one must love another that is alive,” in the movie “Warm Bodies,” a human girl Julie (Teresa Palmer) falls in love with a dead boy, R (Nicolas Hoult).

The story began in an abandoned airport, all the people in there were dead for some reason and all of them had became zombies. Zombies do not have a living heart, they just creep around and eat whoever is alive around them. During a mission of taking medical supplies from the abandoned area, R and other zombies attacked Julie’s group. R ate Julie’s boyfriend’s brain, he then gained his memories. R fell in love with Julie. He then brought her back to his home and protected her from the other zombies.

Julie felt uncomfortable living with a zombie, and she tried to escape at first. But she always got into trouble. R saved Julie many times, and took care of Julie well. Finally Julie was moved and she fell in love with R.

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Love is a poem.

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I am so glad that I won the first place at the Love Poetry Contest this year, with my favorite work called “Retainment” which was also my first post on this blog.

People talk about love all the time, however, nobody could tell what love really is. I think love is a piece of poem – not too long, but really profound. I love writing poems because every word talks and contains it’s own feeling.

Love is a poem – the memory you can remember forever after you read it and understand it. And i have to say, it is not easy.

Everyone is talking about love in their own definitions. Throughout history, poets write about love, singers sing love, musicians play love. But no one can explain love.

During my English class last Friday, Ms. Wilson introduced to us her favorite love poem, and i think this poem just portrays love perfectly:

A Deep-Sworn Vow
By William Butler Yeats
 
Others because you did not keep
That deep-sworn vow have been friends of mine;
Yet always when I look death in the face,
When I clamber to the heights of sleep,
Or when I grow excited with wine,
Suddenly I meet your face.

Yes, love is when you look into someone’s eyes, you see everything you need.
Happy Valentine’s Day!

Let’s enjoy love, the most beautiful poem of life.

Mary Oliver, a poet of nature.

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My favorite poet is Mary Oliver. She is the kind of the writer that perfectly combines the words by feelings. Her words can talk.

She picks up a bunch of aromatic flowers and smiles; she steps into the deep mysterious forest and listens; she smells the spiritual magic of nature and gets infatuated. She, Mary Oliver, the daughter of the earth, extracts every piece of the nature to build a poetic world filled with her particular experiences and feelings. Born in a small town with rural environment in Ohio in 1935, Mary Oliver spent her earliest days surrounding farms and fields and the deep woodlands attracted her. That became the moment when she realized the congenial places that lurked within her heart – nature.

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Once.

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It emerged only once
When he warmly beams
It flashed only once
When she euphonically sings

Time
ceases
Time
flies
Time
freezes

You breezily flipped my fragile heart once
And you always will

I believe
In that moment
Called
once

I ran
For you,
For once.

Eclipse.

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I stared at you into your deep blue eyes
My Mr. moon who will you smile at, tonight
I remembered you have been mine once
Which made me smirk like a blest bride
But after the eclipse last night
You became the Mr. moon of another sky

I am coward of darkness now
After my heart shattered without your light
I know there are thousand stars like me out there
But you are the only sparkle in my sight

The Simple Dream.

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I woke up with the bright sunshine and the hospital smell as usual. I got out of my bed and washed my face quietly, as usual.

I knew it was a new day though I still regarded it as yesterday because everything was the same. The same room – cabined and silent; the same color – chaste white; the same roommate – the man with obnubilation. He always told me that the reason we were sent to this depressive place was that we have so many dreams which could never come true. I knew nothing about his dream.

Every time he just smiled.

As time went by, he was getting older and older. I noticed that the man always sat in the sun, delightedly watching a flower facing to him. Whenever the time was, or how the weather changed, he always acted like the most faithful friend of the flower. Four seasons altered as the flower grew up from a bud to a delicate and charming blossom. The whole life of the old man was stepping to become withered as the falling flower. At last, he passed away peacefully. But after his death, I realized his real dream.

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The Sound From My Heart.

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I believe that the sound comes from my heart. Wherever I go, whatever I do, it stays with me, always.

“Breakfast 7 am; Art Class 9 am; Lunch 12 pm; Reading time 3 pm; Dinner 6 p.m.” From the moment I open my sulky eyes in the early morning, I view this schedule board on my bedroom door. It changes every single day. It is really helpful, at least for me. It tells me what to do and where to go.

My mother comes in with a delightful smile as usual. I am really grateful that my mother can still spend her precious time taking care of me even though it is not always easy to look after me. I love her smile just like I enjoy the beautiful sunshine. “Good morning, honey” were the words she wrote on the board along with a big smiley face. I laughed. “It seems you are not going to learn the sign language, are you?” I wrote back to her. “Oh,you are right, I am not going to. Cause I prefer this way to communicate with you. I like the moment when you see my words, I like the way that I can make you surprised, the way you can feel your life is colorful and dulcet.”

I know my mom. She is the only person who understands me, the only person who can put herself into my special life.

Suddenly, a beam of dazzling light hurts my sensitive eyes. I woke up. Yes,I dreamed of my mom again.

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Purple Touch.

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“I know you love purple. So I call this song Purple Touch.”

I have never had a chance again to think about you since the day you left. But just right now, when I was asked about the memories I treasure, I saw your face. I suddenly realized that you never left from my life.

How can I define you, a friend? a lover? or part of my family?

You know me, I could never remember the details of any weathers. But I do remember, the day was bright and quite, and the air was fresh with the particular smell of snow. It was not really cold even though people all dressed like moles that desired to dig into the deepest and warmest center of the Earth. Everywhere was filled with red and green. Everyone seemed so content and pleasant.

Because it was Christmas.
Because it was December 25th, 2010, the last day we spent together.

You told me before that we would never celebrate Christmas because we are Chinese. I laughed and that was the moment I fell in love with you my friend.
But you chose Christmas because you said, “It’s a happy holiday so we will not have any unhappiness memories left before you leave.”

We went to the piano store – “Golden Piano” as usual.
“I have a present for you before you leave.” You smiled with expectation and I smiled, too.

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The Green.

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How do you feel when the Winter comes?
How do you feel when no one understands your loneliness and sorrow?
How do you feel when they cut your bodies and burn them into ruins?

I see you standing there alone and sighed with grief.
You are afraid of being treated as your friends.

But now you have no worries, because right now there is only me. Tell me your pain. Tell me your despair.
You have no reasons to fear, because now it’s the time for us to realize how important you are. Tell me your concern. Tell me your anger!

You are the gifts from nature. You are the painter who decorates our world into a colorful heaven.
You are the guards of danger. And you have beautiful names – trees.

As one human being, I am now standing out to tell you that we will keep working to rebuild you a comfortable home with hope and green.

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Sleepless San Francisco.

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Last week for our English 11 Honors class, Mrs. Wilson asked us to write a personal essay about the site we wanna live. And all of the sudden San Francisco came out of my mind. I’ve been there only once, but I just couldn’t help myself thinking about it all the time. I want to live there.

Sleepless San Francisco

There is a place that I would love to leave my heart there without hesitation. My sleepless San Francisco would be the dream I want to keep even when I am awake.

Located on a peninsula between the San Francisco Bay and Pacific Ocean, San Francisco has its own definition of city – compact, busy, but scenic and comfortable as well. I would first arrive into San Francisco from the north via the world-famous Golden Gate Bridge, the place for a good start. I would be the first one to watch the born of sun, and enjoy the amazement of the golden sunshine.

Then my journey would start. When there came the noisy bells, the yellow cable cars would be on their way heading to me. I would choose to stand on the edge of the car and hold on to the handrail. “Ding-dong, ding-dong” – as the car drove, my hair would swing with the wind and the views would greet me as I passed by. Built on several hills, the roads are steep but also well-organized in a grid. The most exciting moment would be the downhill part, where I could experience a gentle roller-coaster.

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