tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1149217012399643733.post3868479766076253369..comments2023-12-06T00:48:23.734-08:00Comments on Daily Writing Practice: Thursday August 12th, 2010Marchttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14952331166517430843noreply@blogger.comBlogger4125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1149217012399643733.post-62281397842266774072010-08-13T22:28:23.368-07:002010-08-13T22:28:23.368-07:00Greg - it is (Burrowing Owl Estate and Winery, to ...Greg - it is (Burrowing Owl Estate and Winery, to be exact). It's also an actual type of owl, which I'd not heard of before moving here :)<br /><br />The barn looks reasonably well put together - the house across the street, on the other hand... I should post that picture some time.<br /><br />I suspect that there's no such thing as a Burrowing Cow, but I suppose one can't be sure of anything these days...<br /><br />Zhongming - I really liked your final two verses. Very nicely done.<br /><br />Heather - the image of the shafts of light is very captivating in your scene.<br /><br />Also: good lord, was she okay?Marchttps://www.blogger.com/profile/14952331166517430843noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1149217012399643733.post-59763568536400425552010-08-13T19:24:20.049-07:002010-08-13T19:24:20.049-07:00Marc- I enjoyed your bit of poetry. Cute. We have ...Marc- I enjoyed your bit of poetry. Cute. We have some great old barns in this area, which is surprising when you consider how large the city is; not huge, but certainly not anything small.<br /><br />Greg- I liked the story. It totally sounds like my group of friends, except I am not sure they would miss.<br /><br />And yet another piece of non-fiction. What are you doing to me???<br />-----<br />We sat high in the mow,touching rafters with broken pieces of straw and talking about the things young kids talked about in those days: Madonna, Guess Jeans, and who liked who. The hunts for new litters of kittens were merely an excuse to find some privacy from the adults and space from the youngest of the human litters. My sister was jumping from bale to bale, pretending to be a gymnast and choreographing her routine around the thin shafts of light that seeped around the wooden slatted walls. Leap. Twirl. Arms extended high. Twirl. Leap. Toes pointed for effect. And then she disappeared.<br /><br />"Jenny?" I called, suddenly afraid. There was no response. My body stiffened a bit more and I slowly went to look for her. Peering over the bale she was last standing on, I saw her body in a heap, muddied and shaking slightly, two floors down. It was only then that I realized the trap door had given way.Heatherhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/06237138428325062807noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1149217012399643733.post-45610783205617651572010-08-13T07:40:59.043-07:002010-08-13T07:40:59.043-07:00Living alone most of the time
Feeling calm and pea...Living alone most of the time<br />Feeling calm and peaceful<br />Never thought about looking around<br />Until someone is in deep trouble<br /><br />I tried to communicate<br />As I could feel her agony is growing rapidly<br />And her patience soon ran out<br /><br />Her angry thoughts made me feel sad<br />As I tried to enter into her world<br />But rejection is all I get<br /><br />Love soon turned into hatred<br />Unable to forgive what I did<br />Only avoidance awaits me<br />And she left without a word<br /><br />The one that I see is not the real one<br />The real one has a pure heart<br />Where did that pure heart disappeared to<br />It is always hidden withinZhongminghttps://www.blogger.com/profile/03316151636704591892noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1149217012399643733.post-29049352461808976492010-08-13T00:05:40.952-07:002010-08-13T00:05:40.952-07:00Burrowing Owl is a great place-name! Is that wher...Burrowing Owl is a great place-name! Is that where the restaurant you were delivering the corn to is located? I like the view of the barn, it looks solid and reassuring (from this distance) somehow, though your poem tells a different story.... I love the second verse, especially the last line.<br /><br /><b>Mine:</b><br /><br />"So why's it called Burrowing Owl?" Jim leaned against an upright for the barn and wiped the sweat from his brow. Raising a barn wasn't an easy job and they needed to have the roof up before the rain started.<br />Natalie, still hammering nails into the rafter to hang the shingles on, didn't look up. "Martin, the historian, lives on the corner of Main; well he says it's a corruption of Burrowing Cow. Apparantly there was this cow that liked to dig--"<br />Jim's snort of laughter cut her short.<br />"He saw you coming there, girl!" he said. "Cows don't dig, there's nothing under the ground for them." He jumped as a heavy shingle hit the ground just inches away from his foot.<br />"That had better have been an accident," he warned.Greghttps://www.blogger.com/profile/08503319830584828982noreply@blogger.com