The Forgotten Poem

      Last night in my dream, there was a poem that I really liked. In my dream I was not the one who wrote it, it was in a book I was reading. When I woke up, I realized that I was the one who created it since it was in my dream. I am certain that I have never read a poem like that before. It also had to do with the dream I was dreaming, so I know it is mine, but as soon as I woke up it began fading quickly. Since it was the middle of the night, I couldn't write it down, and now I only remeber some parts about it. I remember one of the lines (almost all of the exact words), I remember what it was about, I remeber that it was not a rhyming poem, and I remember the title. It was called "The Secret", but it didn't have really have to do with a secret. The person in the pom was calling herself a secret. I thimk it is pretty funny that I had it in my dream, already with good line breaks and rhythm without having to think about it. I just read it, like someone else had already written it. When I am awake and thinking about it, i cannot write poems nearly as well. 

     My mom took some pictures of me recently. Here they are:

Sleeping Beauty

  My old camera broke, which is why I haven't had a lot of pictures on my blog, but now I got a new one. It is very good. Here are some pictures of Sleeping Beauty I took with my new camera.

           This morning I got to see the mist in the willows for the first time. Mist has been one of my favorite words for many years now. It is so much better than fog, fog, FOG. Which reminds me, I'm collecting words now to use in poems (which won't be very often.) Well, back to the subject, the white sun was well over the horizon and made the mists glow. I love it when the sun makes the mist glow orange, but not in this situation. That would just ruin the cool-toned scene. Mists and willows fit so well together. I was going to walk through the mist and the willows, but then my dad called me. Today was The Beast's birthday. My grandparents came over to celebrate it. I wrote another page of my book. That is all I have to say today.

A Lovely Idea Goes Away

          A few nights ago I read the story "East o' the Sun and West o' the Moon' to Sleeping Beauty. This has always  been my favorite fairytale, and when I found it in a collection of stories I had gotten from the library, I was overjoyed. I read it to her as soon as I could. This is how the story goes.

      One stormy night a white bear knocked on the door of a poor man's house. The bear promised the poor man riches if he would give him his youngest and most lovely daughter. Of course the man said no, but the bear said he would be back next thursday. The girl heard and went with the bear. He brought her to a large castle inside a hill where she had only to ring a bell and she would get whatever she wanted. Even though she had all these luxuries, the girl was troubled because every night a stranger would come into the room after the lights were out. It was always gone before dawn. The bear told her to trust and not be curious, but one night she took a candle and looked at the stranger. He was a prince. Wax from her candle fell on him, and he awoke. The prince was under a spell so that he was a white bear during the day. Since she looked, the spell was not broken, and he had to go marry one of the witches in the castle east o' the sun and west o' the moon. After the prince and the castle had disappeared, she asked the every wind if he could take her to the castle. Only the north wind had blown there before. When she got to the castle, (by means of the north wind) the girl discovered that the prince was to marry she who could wash three spots of wax from his shirt. No matter how hard the hags tried, the shirt only got dirtier when they washed it. The girl tried washing it last, and it became pure white. The sun came out and turned the rest of the lot to stone, the girl and the prince were married, and they lived happliy ever after. 

       Well, I decided that it would be a good idea to write a book of this story in my own retelling. That was before yesterday. Yesterday our friends came over and started telling us about a book in which there was a prince under a spell so thet he was a polar bear. Then they went on to tell me that the bear brought the girl to a castle under a mountain. Oh no!

    "Did she drop three drops of wax on someone who was sleeping in her room?" I asked. She did.
   
     "Then did he disappear, and she had to find him at a castle east o' the sun and west o' the moon?"

       "No," one girl said, but then her sister said, "Wait! I think it did say something about that castle in there."

         So, as you can see, somebody already wrote a book based on my most beloved tale! Of course, I am still able to write my own version, but now I don't really want to. It just isn't special anymore.