Peaceful composition

For Kay, my dear sister in Jesus. May this small tale help to remind u how beautifully and wonderfully made u are in the eyes of the Great Artist.

~~ Beautiful ~~

Once upon a time, not long geleden and not far away, there lived a wise and skillful artist who loved to paint. He delighted in making magic with color and bringing all the afbeeldingen he saw in his head to life in his pictures.

One day, he was painting something extra special. His brush dipped in and out of the swirling colors and flew across the canvas in expert strokes; dabbing here, blending there, moving swiftly in a joyful, marvelous...

Dear You-Know-Who,


How can u not read my body language? When u present, I barely look up. I barely clap. I barely look at you? And yet, when my vrienden present, I go wild. I clap, I cheer, I am constantly looking at them. I even think u touched my hair!!!!


I know u were impressed when I rocked up in the multipurpose area covered in blood and bruises. A door hit me, sent me flying into a pole and sent to the cement for goodness' sake! u hung around, I can tell. Yu stayed longer than I expected u to. At least u didn't see me when tears were flooding down my face. of when I hit the...

love. what does it truley mean? being in love is simpe, anyone can convence themslves they are in love. being in love is when u feel something for one person meer strongly than u feel for another. but love is something elsa all together. love is when u cant convience yourselve u love someone, but when u try to leave something tells u no, stop and think. and when u do think the reason is blantint. Love is when u think your done, done fighting and done lieing, but than it hits u that without all of that u wouldnt be the person u are, and they wouldnt be the one u love....

Some random little piece of prose writing I did last jaar on a teens writing website, hope u like it.:)

They are everywhere, these birds. They hobble, strut, and flutter around the town, weaving in and out of the shoppers, darting in between clumping feet to snatch crumbs and bits of crisps among the blobs of chewing gum and cigarette ends on the wet cobblestones. The people don’t care. The pigeons don’t care. Both species living their separate lives in a man-made environment where man and bird are equal. They are the colours of the town; grey, dull brown occasionally, dappled with factory-steam...