The Story of my Blog Title

Quilt of Dragonflies- My blog is named that for a reason.I am lucky enough to own a genuine Quilt of Dragonflies, which I am sure brings me good dreams when I sleep beneath it. It was given to me by a friend of my mother's, who handmade the entire thing. Color meets pattern in this fantastic piece of artwork which sits on my bed. Brilliant shades of purple, blue, and green intersperse with tie dye dragonflies. I will not hesitate to call it my inspiration.

Wednesday, November 30, 2011

Shakespeare Quote of the Day

"I am not what I am"
-Twelfth Night


Giddy, anticipation goes
Down from my hair to the tips of my toes
But I can't let them see
What they're doing to me
I'll sit here and itch down my nose

Tuesday, November 29, 2011

Thanks, Guys!

I was just checking up on my stats and realized that I have over 5,000 views on my blog. Thank you so much for all your support since I started this blog about a year ago, and I am having so much fun!


Shakespeare Quote of the Day

"Nothing that is so is so."
-Twelfth Night

Seaman's Song

the joy of wind filling your sails
land lubbers to seamen pale
in comparing the two I find
the sea is the one which captures my mind

I do love my lady, the lady the sea
she is the most dearest to me, to me
whenever I gaze out at the water so deep
she is the melody to which I sleep

green grey waves in the ocean of time
each minute that passes is sublime
my watch is the sun that beats down on high
the moon and the stars dapple the night sky

I do love my lady, the lady the sea
she is the most dearest to me, to me
whenever I gaze out at the water so deep
she is the melody to which I sleep

and when to the shore the boat is set
I reach down to touch her and get myself wet
for I am a sailor and for me
I am the one married to the sea

I do love my lady, the lady the sea
she is the most dearest to me, to me
whenever I gaze out at the water so deep
she is the melody to which I sleep

Monday, November 28, 2011

Write on Wednesdays: Notre Dame de Paris

Write On Wednesdays Exercise 26 - Look at the photo at the top of this post. What does it inspire in you? Set your timer for 5 minutes. With the photo in mind, write the first words that come into your head until the buzzer rings.

Staring through the lens of her camera, her breath caught and her heart began to flutter about as a butterfly does in a field of wildflowers. Seeing those candles evoked such an emotional response that her hand shivered as the camera clicked away. She hoped with all her heart the photos would come out. Watching the flickering candles floating down the river, she imagined great mountains of gold shimmering in the night. Like a great volcano, the mountain was alive, a being so ethereal that she could barely blink. The candles sailed majestically down the river, spinning lazily in the current and drifting out, away from civilization to a place where they could be free. She continued to snap pictures while watching the magical stream of lights pass her. It was never-ending, a beautiful arrangement of pinpricks not unlike the universe spread above her. 

Suddenly, there was a movement behind her, and she caught her breath as she heard a splash way out in the river. Then another and another, as someone began to throw pebbles at the golden spires floating away. Someone was cruelly trying to sink the boats, and they were succeeding. Her breath caught in her mouth as one fiery tower teetered, and finally collapsed into the river with a hiss and several drops of liquid wax. She whirled on the spot, revenge hot and sweet in her mouth, determined to stop the idiot, no, the murderer, of the light. 

Thank you for Thanksgiving: A little late

On Thanksgiving day, I didn't have the time to thank all the people who deserved it. I love you all, and I am taking this opportunity to give thanks for my wonderful life.

Thank you
For the songs, the music and the dancing
Thank you for making me feel loved
Reaching out to me, raising me, befriending me
Thank you
For helping me discover bit by bit
Who I was
Who I am
Thank you for tears and laughter
Thank you for lighting up the room
When you walk in and
Making me smile when 
You smile
Thank you for supporting me
In worthwhile and
Stupid endeavors
Thank you so much
For loving me, teaching me everything you know
Thank you to those who are
A big part in my life
And thank you to those
I have never even met
You have shaped me
The family, friends, people who care
Thank you for being there
A shoulder to cry on
A hug
When I am least expecting it
Thank you for your humor
And your sorrows
Thank you for opening up and sharing you with me
Thank you for sunny days and inky nights
Beaches and mountains
And cozy couches
Thank you for snuggles
Reading to that little kid
Who would someday grow up
For believing I could achieve anything
And helping me along the way
For getting frustrated and shouting at me
You helped me grow
Thank you for showing me that I was not perfect
And never will be
Thank you for adding patches
To my quilt of life
My quilt of dragonflies too
Thank you for the magic of the moment
Thank you
from me


Recently,  I went to visit grandparents for Thanksgiving, which included going on a ferry. I love to take pictures, so here are some of my favorites... 
The day was very warm, and the sun was shining. I had the upper deck all to myself for several minutes before we set off.

The coming home journey, when I took the pictures, was much better than the ride there. While going there it was cold and very rocky, so I stayed inside.

Sunday, November 27, 2011


The bright skies beckon
I stare out the grimy window in surprise
The sun is smiling
Grabbing camera strap and pounding up the salty stairs
Out onto the deck of the ferry
I feel on top of the world
The waves below me dance in the breeze
The flag whips around the pole
A joyful reminder of our country
Snapping photos
I feel patriotic
The sun tanned bench
The yellow smokestack,
Stacks of wood sitting quietly in the water
Guiding ships into shore
Through my lens, my eyes
The world takes shape
The gulls whorl around
Singing and crying a joyful song

Saturday, November 26, 2011


The bright orange liquid flows
Across the table, forming rivulets of sugar
And artificial flavors
The poker chips cry out
As a faint splash hits them
Brother and Mother scream in agony
At the very thought their precious technology may be injured
The soda slithers under the table cloth
Sneakily hiding in the folds of the napkins
That helplessly try to clean it all up

Friday, November 25, 2011

Five Sentence Fiction: Sacrifice

The little boy's face shone like the sun as a bright and shiny red balloon was handed over the counter to him. It was finally his ballon, only his and no one else's. Laughing and bouncing the balloon about in the air, the boy skipped over to the bench where his mum was waiting for him. It was then that he noticed the little girl with the ragged t shirt and gap toothed smile staring at his balloon with curious eyes from behind the trashcan. She had obviously never seen something so round and red, and the little boy's eyes suddenly stung with an emotion he had never felt before as he grudgingly held out his hand-he now knew the meaning of sacrifice.

Shakespeare Quote of the Day

"When that the poor have cried, C├Žsar hath wept:
Ambition should be made of sterner stuff."
-Julius Caesar

Sunset Over the Water

Streaks of violet
Pale clouds set richly on fire
Sailboat masts stand tall

Thursday, November 24, 2011


the bird comes out
steaming from the oven
a grand matron of great prestige
she calls attention to herself
delicately shoves aside the dishes
who bow and scrape in her wake
the guests gaze in awe
tongues lolling out 
like so many labradors
eyes rolled back in anticipation
gravy follows 
pooling between mountains of potatoes
an alpine lake
turkey is to Thanksgiving
as fireworks on the 4th
Presents for Christmas
I am suddenly
an outsider
it happened so fast, in the course of a year
different from my family
for not eating a bird
they are nice
don't stare
as I fill my plate with docile vegetables and 
heavy mashed potatoes
inside they wonder
why does she obstain?
What is the reason?
I have my reasons
not to consume this rich delight
the turkey parts the ground
like a wealthy spinster
who wraps the guests around her little finger
er, drumstick.

Wednesday, November 23, 2011


Lingering nausea
The ferry is tossed around
like a salad
in the ceramic blue bowl
of the ocean
Up and down
the raging water pushes us
The boat is a toy in the hands of a small child
being shaken as the child laughs hysterically
Her chubby cerulean face
Emotionless, the ocean
Wide and long and never-ending
The boat pushes forward ever faster
Never noticing the evident discomfort
Of the passengers, who sit with sweaty hands
Plastered to the plastic seats
Faces strained and
Little beads of sweat dripping down their foreheads
Seasickness answers
to no one

Tuesday, November 22, 2011


The frantic packing
Throwing clothes and books around
What a crazy rush

Monday, November 21, 2011

The Mountain

the mountain smirks
when I open the door of my bedroom
and trip over it
yet again
sweaters and dirty socks
novels and paperback poetry
shirts and shoes and bags
dresses, boots, math homework
t shirts of questionable cleanliness
where is the carpet?
the mountain lies about
the picture of laziness
what a slob it is
to grow and grow
never to get up
go out
leave me in peace
the mountain laughs
at my attempts to clean
it retches out bookmarks and scraps of paper
spitting candy wrappers and cameras and crumbs
on my feet when I walk in
it frightens me
the mountain
what shall I do
but brave it
the soldier of cleanliness
wish me luck

Five Sentence Fiction: Lightning

Standing solitary in the middle of the field, I cackled and thrust my hands toward the sky. The clouds swarmed like ants around me, the grasses whipped from side to side, and my face was lit with the eerie light of the tempest. Summoning all of my strength, I jumped up into the air, rising many feet from the ground with my skirts swirling about me and my wrath. Alighting on a blackening cloud, I began to chant the language of magic and the world started to hum. Suddenly, a fiery finger of lightning lashed out at the grasses, setting the field where I had stood ablaze.

Write on Wednesdays

The saddest thing I ever heard...

It was the piglets. Their frantic cries pierced my heart, sad eyes turned toward the camera. How could anyone do this to innocents, so like our babies?

I watched their blood spurt, watched the men laugh and high five with each small pig killed. Would you kill your baby
simply because it was small? Or nurse it back to health, carefully, breathing life into the tiny animal who needs it so desperately?

The tears rolled down my face, though not as fast
as the sticky blood of the animals, slaughtered by men with cruel, hard faces. Why do we treat the same animals who love us and care for us so badly?

The cows whose sad eyes stare at the camera, pleading for just a  chance. A chance at life, a chance to be saved. I promise you, they promise you, it will be worth it.

This week's prompt was "The saddest thing I ever heard..." and I found it very hard to write. Right away, I knew that the saddest thing I had ever heard was the animals on a video I watched shortly before becoming a vegetarian. The emotions there are very raw, so I apologize if this was a little graphic. I almost started crying just while writing, so I know this struck home with me. 


Sunday, November 20, 2011

Shakespeare Quote of the Day

"Keep thy friend
Under thy own life's key."
-All's Well That Ends Well


Caught behind the lens red handed
Smiling awkwardly
You know I am looking at you
Hair swept back in the breeze
Casually beautiful
Arms outstretched to the trees
Which lean down around us
Friendly and forgiving
Your cheeks are two pink circles
Your nose a cherry button in the cold
Eyes are half shut
The flash must have been bright
Your skin a perfect bronze
But you don't think so
The leaves are caught
Forever in one position
Some staring idly
Others drifting from the trees
They hang in limbo
Permanently suspended in the autumn air
The picture is soon to sit
On a mantle
In the dusty pages of an album
To be opened years later and laughed at

Saturday, November 19, 2011


Silver tears shimmer
Down cheeks and right over dreams
Crushed hopes on the ground

Friday, November 18, 2011


Greedily biting pages
licking paragraphs to catch the juices
that trickle down the spine
smiling a hunter's smile
as you catch your prey and hold it fast
one chapter at a time
lustily tearing apart the words
sentences, fragments of dreams
the story unfolds
you stuff it in your mouth quickly
savoring is a thing from the past
Text blinds you and suffocates you
yet you continue
to the end

Thursday, November 17, 2011

Shakespeare Quote of the Day

"Hear my soul speak. Of the very instant that I saw you, Did my heart fly at your service"
-The Tempest


The sun
A blistering heat 
Scorching, dangerous
Burt fingers teach lessons
Or do they? 
Will you continue to be burnt
again and again?
despite the temperature
The soft light of dawn 
Tender and caring
From the first rays
to the last
Gentle and sweet
Primrose colored 
in the early morning
late in the day
The light
kisses your cheeks
and bare shoulders
in the summer
Caressing you
without a care in the world
The sun of love

Wednesday, November 16, 2011

Rainy Game

the fans show their disappointment
with an irritated flick of their umbrellas
raindrops tumble down from the brightly colored domes
swishing onto the wet grass
what a day
the team is losing
stumbling in the mud and sliding
missing the ball only by inches every time
it is raining
and why did we come to this game anyway?
what a failure.
Oh, look. She's got the ball!
a groan
like the squealing of an oil tanker
brushing the docks
loud and prolonged
the fans slump
on their bits of grass and
we collapse in on ourselves
misery pervades the air
why, why are they failing us?
will screaming at your team
really help them?
the long line of umbrellas
bends back and forth in the wind
on the sideline
a garden of plastic stripes
swaying in the breeze
but no sun
what a

*Just a note, these are not my views at all. I went to a rainy soccer game today where the fans of both teams seemed dissatisfied and unhappy. They were yelling at the girls the entire way, so I just tried to imagine how they felt the way they did*

Tuesday, November 15, 2011

Shakespeare Quote of the Day

"I will not be afraid of death and bane"


Whenever I see you
A smile blooms across my lips
Slowly but surely growing
A head nod, salute
A raised hand which tilts
Slightly from side to side
That warm and fuzzy feeling
A soft glow when I am with you
I am always happy
Are you the sun which rises
And beckons me with a quick flick
Of you hand in greeting?
The words which spread between us
Deep and mighty as the ocean
We have only said hello
What have you done
To capture my friendship?
Apart from the casual hi
The small talk of someone
Who knows me
How do you make me feel this way?
Am I just as good
A friend?

Monday, November 14, 2011

Write on Wednesdays...think with character

This week at WoW we are doing a pick your own adventure day. I have been wanting to explore some of my characters with greater depth, and I think this is a great time to do it. The exercise involved choosing a character from a previous piece and finding out something more about the character, or creating a new character all together. I decided to make up my own character, because I couldn't find an old character that I really wanted to work with. Some characters are built to be vague, and when I tried to think of how to introduce them, I was at a loss. So I am starting from scratch. Enjoy!

Anne was a quiet kid. A reader, a writer, a silent adventurer.The kind of kid that all the parents chatter about during family gatherings.

"Oh, she's gonna have a big life in front of her. Bet she's gonna end up at Harvard or something like that."

"You'd better get her out of this town before she gets like the rest of us."

"She is awfully quiet though. What have you been doing all these years, letting her listen to Beethoven?"

You see, Anne was a small town girl. This town was one of flannel shirts and forgotten dreams, and from a tender age, Anne wanted out. This was a town of gossiping women hanging out laundry because it dried more natural that way. In this town, everybody knew everybody, and if you didn't know somebody, you weren't anybody. The days in this town were long and hot in the summer, short and frigid in the winter. The men wore jeans in the winter and cut off jeans in the summer, and kept the flannel all year round. The women were stuck in a time long gone, most of them still had a variety of worn dresses in faded pastels that dusted the floor with every step.

Anne grew up in a house full of very noisy people. No one could tell why she had grown up so quiet, though her mother attributed it to the fact that she had been repeatedly dropped as a baby. On sunny days, Anne would head for the hills, sometimes not even coming back at night. The parents considered her a wild child, and told her siblings in hushed tones to stay away from her. The youngest kids regarded her as magic, with her billowing red hair and a beautiful smile for those who were lucky enough to see it. Whenever Anne could, she went outside and wandered aimlessly for hours by herself, savoring the freedom that only solitude could bring. She would read in the branches of a tree, sprint through fields of wildflowers, or befriend the small animals that she found in the forest.

For many years, she was the largest source of gossip in the town. Anne ignored everyone and continued untouched through the path of her life, quietly singing in the crystal voice that no human had ever heard. Life for Anne was lonely but refreshing, until the day that she met Jonathan.

Shakespeare Quote of the Day

"I warrant thou art a merry fellow and car'st for nothing"
-Twelfth Night

Warm Days

happy winds flutter
brisk and joyful they find me
reveling in warmth

Sunday, November 13, 2011

Blue Man Group

violent splashes of color and sound
lights sparkle and burn bright in the dark theater
the audience laugh
hard, from their bellies
cobalt faces staring, cyan fingers twitch
drums beat and sing a deep and solemn song
strobe lights divide time into short bursts
erratic poses and pictures of people
dancing and laughing
clapping and cheering
the band thumps on without a care
neon faces shining in the dark
guitar riffing, cymbal crashing madness
toilet paper streaming from the ceiling
white rolling over the audience, the strips forming crisp patterns
giant tubes gyrate above
they glitter in the black light
everything turned on end
upside down and spinning
reality is shaken
by the azure paint
the fixed stares of
the blue man group

Saturday, November 12, 2011

Living for the Team

Covered in face paint
Mouth open in screeching wail
We live for the team

Friday, November 11, 2011

Shakespeare Quote of the Day

"Present mirth hath present laughter.
What's to come is still unsure"
-Twelfth Night


ice cubes popping in plastic glasses
voices raised in careless fun
when the sun creeps under the horizon
the party in my house has just begun
the guests stream in and take over
immediately feeling at home
shedding shoes and coats
spilling food and drinks
in an absentminded way
detached from the day
with its fears, hopes, and failures
laughing and giggling raucously
how they resemble a pack of hyenas
piercing cries and guffaws
finding their way up the stairs
scavengers, they clamor at the food
how I feel safe away from it all
antisocial? or merely made of different things
the quiet, the peace of my bedroom, the window
no sticky puddles or
crumpled up and forgotten worries
hiding like dust bunnies
in a freshly swept corner

Five Sentence Fiction: Delectable

Alice St. Jemming sat at the cafe table, leaning towards the plate of cookies which was grinning elfishly up at her. The bottle of sparkling water sat nonchalantly beside her elbow, as if it was whispering to her, "You are in Paris, city of light, so enjoy yourself." Eat me, beckoned the cookies, as the glass clinked against the plate. Drink me, sang the fizzy water, staring at her perfectly manicured fingernails and the phone which sat beside them, deliberately turned off. Alice was in a wonderland, life was perfect, and from now on she would choose her own adventure.

Well, there you go, my story for this week. The word was delectable, and I had five sentences to come up with something. Hope you enjoy!


Thursday, November 10, 2011

Purple and orange

Here are two poems wrote on a whim about the star-crossed colors of purple and orange, plagued by the fact that they cannot rhyme perfectly with anything.

purple skies at night
poet’s delight
orange skies in the morning
poet’s quiver and give warning

for these two colors we hold dear
should actually induce fear
to the heart of writers all
beware orange-it means sqaull!

the rhyming pattern battens down
the hatches and shutters of the town
for orange and purple have no rhyme
just a tropical feel and hint of lime

but not enough
the poet screams
purple and orange?
in your dreams!

door hinges consort with the mysterious nurple
but how will we find a real rhyme to purple?

Second poem:

abstract colors with
no relations
left adrift in the inky world of poetry
orphans of print
the live in the foster homes
of “nurple” and “door hinge”
in hopes of fitting in
they are the dawn
breaking on the horizon
achinly beautiful
silently alone
grasped by artists in painted fury
splattered across canvases
on smocks and fruits and crayola crayons
yet still shunned
by the world of words
these poor abandoned colors
left to fend for themselves
these are

Wednesday, November 9, 2011

In Bed

sunken eyes peer out
from the dark cave of blankets
a wondering soul

Tuesday, November 8, 2011

Shakespeare Quote of the Day

"Come not between the dragon and his wrath."
-King Lear

Feeling Bad

From the bottom to the top
Yucky all over

Monday, November 7, 2011

Shakespeare Quote of the Day

"When that I was and a little tiny boy
With hey, ho, the wind and the rain,
A foolish thing was but a toy,
For the rain it raineth every day"
-Twelfth Night

Can I be Blamed?

cranky spanky
she calls me. mrs. meany pants from my brothers.
can I really be blamed? hard weeks make tensions run as high
as the temperature in a certain valley in California
pulse beats strong and fast. my head aches from the sheer brute force
attempting to knock down the walls of my sanity. they stand tall mostly.
yet sometimes curve under the strain.
adrenaline runs through my veins. the bad kind, anyway.
the kind that makes you jumpy and jittering. the kind that keeps you awake
tossing and turning in your bed
like a ship being tossed in the roiling waters of an ocean of self doubt
tears spill from my eyes like drops of acidic lemonade spilled
on a warm summer day
my faults are obvious. flaws glare in the daylight, reflecting like mirrors, bouncing
doubts and bad thoughts across my brain
can I be blamed?

Write on Wednesdays: Making Fire

This week, the WoW prompt was the words "We are learning to make fire." It was another five minute timed exercise, which I usually enjoy but I had a little trouble with this one. Wasn't really sure what to write about, though I think this came out fine in the end. Well, here you are:

We are learning to make fire. Slowly, grinding the skin of the earth into flakes. Filling the bowl of dirt with golden flames. Shards of the old life will drift skyward with the ashes. Lighter and lighter, faster and farther they fly up. I watch them lifted by the breeze, up into the bowl horizon, the clouds of grey dreams sitting low over the land.

The fire will burn steadily, the warmth inside us will rekindle the joy of long ago. Primal spirits drift in the wind, whipping this way and that, twining through my hair. The dancing flames will lick the sides of the bowl, happily nipping fingers and pieces of wood. The ashen sky reflects the ruby of the fire. Soon it will be the inky indigo of twilight, then the residual blackness of night. For now, it stays grey and silent. It does not answer the calls of the fire, which crackles merrily and longs for a playmate. Just like a little child, dancing in the breezes, chasing the leaves which float eerily around it.

 I watch the fire begin to die. In one night, the cycle of a lifetime. The fire is old and creaky, longing to take its last rattling breath and ascend to new adventures. I pour sand over the fire, dousing its misery. We have learned to make fire, and fire has learned how to live.

Sunday, November 6, 2011

I am a Dreamer

I am writing this poem as an extension of a former poem...I was given the idea by Katie, who said it would make a good longer poem. I agree, so here goes:

I am a dreamer.
Imagination billows across my mind
Slipping in through the cracks of imperfection
Pooling in the most used corners, hiding in the light
I am a dreamer. With every breath I take comes
Ideas, new life and light.
Stars are beautiful, the starry night of brilliance
Dances before my eyes, sings in my ears and tickles my skin
I am a dreamer of color and texture and shape
Azure and vermillion, rough and smooth, perfectly round with jagged edges.
Happy endings and crushing defeats, oak trees and strawberries, perfectly picked
Sunsets on beaches and sunrises on the tops of mountains
Snow blinding the eager eyes of watchers.
I am a dreamer of today and tomorrow. And yesterday.
Continuing to dream and laugh. Today and tomorrow and tomorrow.

Saturday, November 5, 2011

Shakespeare Quote of the Day

"Nothing will come of nothing: speak again."
-King Lear

Postponed Halloween

Costumes, candy, treats
A trick for every household
Postponed Halloween

Friday, November 4, 2011

Shakespeare Quote of the Day

"Following darkness like a dream"
-A Midsummer Night's Dream


I am a dreamer
Imagination fills my

Thursday, November 3, 2011

Shakespeare Quote of the Day

"Our court shall be a little Academe,
Still and contemplative in living art."
-Love's Labour's Lost


Flitting softly through the sky
Dipping, tripping through the air
Thus we meet the dragonfly
Flying freely, not a care

Skipping over water blue
Silky wings with diamonds glitter
Singing high then back to you
It really is a wondrous critter

Beauty bouncing wing on wing
Dancing in the summer sun
When the dusky twilight sings
The dragonfly has just begun

Five Sentence Fiction: Bewitched

Bruno's head was resting easily on the velvet of the box, his pink tongue lolling slightly out of his mouth, quivering with each slow exhale. Next to him sat Jane, her hands clutching at the armrests and her eyes alight with a fire he had never seen before. With every crystalline note, her heart beat out of her chest and she sighed in rapture, staring at the bewitching scene on the stage. Opera was her passion, where her very heart and soul went out onto the stage, and Bruno was too oafish and boring to care. Jane glanced over at Bruno, drooling slightly, and she knew then that he was not the one.

Well, that was this week's prompt. It seems that I will never be able to use the common definition for words, but I was just not in the mood for writing something scary. All my Halloween stories end up helplessly cliche and I liked where this piece was going. It was fun to write! For anyone seeing Five Sentence Fiction for the first time, you can check it out at Lillie McFerrin's blog...

Wednesday, November 2, 2011

Shakespeare Quote of the Day

"If I do not usurp myself, I am"
-Twelfth Night

Bumbling Fumbler

There once was a dog named Mumble
He tripped on his own tail and bumbled
He swore one day
To make them pay
But alas, he still had a fumble

Tuesday, November 1, 2011

Shakespeare Quote of the Day

"At Christmas I no more desire a rose
Than wish a snow in May's new-fangled mirth;
But like of each thing that in season grows. "
-Love's Labour's Lost

A-hah! I have found the perfect quote about the October snow!


Punch a high note and
A slow smile because you are
Sublime soprano