Quote #78

I don’t know if I should really call this a quote, since I’m quoting the entire poem.  Guess I can?

John McCrae in uniform circa 1914.jpg

From John McCrae (In Flanders Field)…

In Flanders fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses, row on row,
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.

We are the Dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved and were loved, and now we lie,
In Flanders fields.

Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields.

This is one of my favourite war poems that I studied in yr 11.  I really understood poetry at that moment, strange~

The Countess.

 

She strode across the courtyard distancing herself.  She peered into her reticle, ignoring all others.  She was the centre of attention, as she drew out a piece of paper.  It had been placed there, somewhere between home and here.  And she could guess how.

It read, meet me in forest at noon. I’ll be waiting.

 

Inspiration.

 

Inspiration is the water that clings to cobwebs;

The rain that pours down mercilessly;

The sun that shines unforgivably;

The wind that blows heartily;

And the snow that falls softly.

It is the chocolate éclairs that melt in the mouth;

The smell of dinner wafting from the kitchen;

The feel of calluses that grew from hard work;

The sound of sweet music from a friend’s guitar.

Inspiration is the friend who says hello;

The boyfriend who gives kisses;

The girlfriend who makes lunch;

The mother who tucks you in.

It is the scene from the window of a passing train;

The everyday scene of the tram you catch every day;

The scene of kids messing about on the bus;

The peaceful river scene you see as you walk to school.

Inspiration is a rose from the garden;

A shadow in the bedroom;

A letter in the mailbox;

Or a candle in the bathroom.

It is the thought you got when you watched tv;

A song that was played on the radio;

A funny story on the internet;

An intriguing article in the newspaper.

Inspiration comes in our dreams;

Wakes us from our daydreams;

Becomes our living fantasies;

Takes us into our nightmares.

It is the flow of water trickling down the stream;

The thunder of lightning on a thundery day;

The crashing of waves along the Victorian coastline;

The sweltering heat on a scorching summer day.

Inspiration is nowhere,

Here,

There,

Everywhere.

Lauren Oliver.

Lauren Oliver

Dear Lauren Oliver I hate you.  Kidding!!!  But seriously, I envy your work.  As most readers of YA out there would know, Lauren Oliver is the lovely author behind Before I fall and Delirium.  

Before I Fall   Delirium (Delirium, #1)   Pandemonium (Delirium, #2)   Requiem (Delirium, #3)

With an extremely expressive turn of phrase, her novels are beautifully captivating and entrancing.  One moment, the first page is flipped, the next, you cannot believe it’s finished!

Matched (Matched, #1)I remember the first time I ever picked up one of her books.  I’ll tell you it was Delirium and after Matched by Ally Condie (Not that it was bad, but really, it was a slight bit of drag that felt really dense in the process, and the only bit of action occurred right at the end – But even so, Matched was still a worthy read! – once you get through the denseness of the first 2/3), and I was not really ready for another dystopian focused on ‘love’, because really in the end they’d all be the same.  Buuuuutttttt!

As always, the word to use when there is an additional condition to add; but, I prided myself as a reader (and writer – hopefully in the future – professional author – but that’ll be some time yet, I think) not to judge a book until I’ve read.    And with that kind of reading, and impulsive desire, I ended up reserving four hundred and eighty paged mass paperback at my local library.

And Bloody Hell!  I was seriously blown away.  I’ll I expected as much with the plot and the characters, they were, impressive and unimpressive at the same time.  I both loved and hated them.  But my biggest shock of all, and the reason why now I can say I absolutely, unbelievably adore her writing, was that Oliver completely caught me, hook, line and sinker, with that ‘voice’ of hers.  I was completely drawn in by her writing.  There was absolutely no holding back with her.  Absolutely none!

But you know–and I don’t know about anyone else, but I do about myself–when I find an author who can write so well and make such an impact on me, I have to go find out if he/she’s written anything else.  It would be a a shame if I didn’t!

Elsewhere     The Lovely Bones      The Five People You Meet in Heaven

So I looked Ms Lauren Oliver up and wha-la, yes, she had written one other book at that point in time.  And that book was Before I fall.  Now I love books about people dying and generally they go back on their life (such as Elsewhere by Gabrielle ZevinThe Lovely Bones by Alice Sebold, and The Five People You Meet in Heaven by Mitch Albom), see if they could change something, or understand some aspect of themselves that they couldn’t understand before.  I don’t know why, but I do.  And so I picked it up with no qualms, unlike the ones I had for Delirium.  

And I loved it.  I didn’t know that I would, but I did.  Before I fall was even more emotive and earth-shaking than Delirium, and seriously, I really hate it when books make me cry.  I hate it because crying is messy and dramatic and really cliched, but Before I Fall was just too good.  I was absorbed by the protagonist’s voice, so much that I very nearly cried–I managed not to, since I’ve learned to hold my tears, but if I hadn’t that special skill, I would have been bawling!

Believe me when I say the protagonist of Before I fall was dislikable to the hilt!  She was bitchy and mean, and totally popular all over, and yet, Oliver portrayed such a dislikable character with such a likable and related voice that the reader, in the should not be able to resist falling in love with her!

Ms Oliver, you are amazing.  Seven hundred and fifty cheers for you for bringing to this world, and to me, your beautiful, beautiful worlds.  Thank you for amazing writing.  I look up to you with the same kinds of eyes my friends had when they teased me about being their nerdy hero (I was quite smart in highschool ;p).  So thank you.  I just love, love, love your writing.

Sincerely,

Nina at Wordsthatflowlikewater!

My Country by Dorothea MacKellar

My Country by Dorothea Mackellar.

It’s a poem that most Australians will recognise.  It’s gentle prose praising Australia’s beauty.  One of my favourite poems, it’s iconic and patriotic, but it’s also a very beautiful poem.  I couldn’t help but fall in love with these verses:

I love a sunburnt country,
A land of sweeping plains,
Of ragged mountain ranges,
Of droughts and flooding rains.
I love her far horizons,
I love her jewel-sea,
Her beauty and her terror –
The wide brown land for me!

A stark white ring-barked forest
All tragic to the moon,
The sapphire-misted mountains,
The hot gold hush of noon.
Green tangle of the brushes,
Where lithe lianas coil,
And orchids deck the tree-tops
And ferns the warm dark soil.

I remember these lines from when I was kid.  I always remember “I love a sunburnt county, a land of sweeping plains”.  I can’t remember when I first heard it, but I know it’s been with me since I was a kid.  Whenever I hear those words, I can help but think about how much I admire Dorothea Mackellar‘s prose.  It’s funny that even as a kid, I knew just how amazing those two lines were.  I’m not a poet, nor do I take much time to read poetry unless it’s relevant to the literature I’m studying.  It’s hard for me to be motivated by poetry, even if I want to be a writer, because I know I can’t write like that.  Poetry seems a long way away to me, and yet I call myself a writer.  Maybe, I think I fear that I’m not good enough as a writer.

But every time I think about this poem, and I read these verses, I feel, surprisingly, that I can do it, that I can turn prose as fine as this.  Hmm, well, I still have some time before it comes to that stage.  Anyway, this is one of my favourite poems of all time.  I just love the turn of prose and the iconography.  I love the brilliant imagery and the personification.  It makes me love Australia even more!

(Oh my bad, what kind of post is this?  haha, I didn’t even say anything particular except blab on about how great this poem is.  Lol!  Anyhooo….!)

Book Spine Poetry #2.

I decided to try this again since it’s a) fun and b) I didn’t really like my first one.  I like this one a little bit better, though I suppose I get why this is so much fun.  If my collection of books contained more then just the idea of putting together books so that their spines tell a story is fun!  Hehe, unfortunately my hand shakes a bit too much so all the photos I take are slightly shake!  So my apologises! Enjoy my second book spine poem :).

 

Eona,

Die for me.

Eon,

Great Expectations.

The Book Thief, 

Carrier of the mark.

House of Mirth.

Books used in the creation of this poem: Eona and Eon by Allison Goodman, Die for Me by Amy Plum, Great Expectations by Charles Dickens, The Book Thief by Markus Zusak, Carrier of the Mark by Leigh Fallon and The House of Mirth by Edith Wharton

Quote #2

English: Young Daphne du Maurier (about 1930) ...

English: Young Daphne du Maurier (about 1930) (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

 

 

From Daphne Du Maurier

“Women want love to be a novel, men a short story.”