Ode to a Water Fountain

Oh water fountain on the fourth floor of Skinner:
How much I truly love you.
How much I truly appreciate you.
You never disappoint, oh water fountain of mine.

After long rehearsals
Or climbing endless flights of stairs
Or for anyone who ends up on the fourth floor
You are a beacon of refreshment, nourishment and hydration

Always so cold
Always so refreshing
And conveniently placed next to a heater, so in the winter,
I can warm up and drink your ambrosia all at once

As I drink from you, I am surrounded by wonderful music
Choir melodies, virtuostic violin exerpts, or moving jazz beats.
Of course, yours is the most perfect melody.
A mix of clarity, taste, and heaven.

Oh fourth floor water fountain:
I crave your sweet, sweet water.
Oh dearest fountain of perfection,
I wish you were closer to Cushing.

BoneFish Checking In

Hey everyone!  I'm Bonefish and am new to the blog!  But excited to be involved!  And really excited for its relaunch!

So about me:  I'm a junior... I live in Cushing... I am not going abroad... and that's okay.  Those are the important things, right?

And yeah, I'll be writing about once a week.  And I'll probably just write about whatever's on my mind or what I feel is important for the moment.  Plus videos. Lots and lots of funny videos.

I remember when Blog9 first came out, all the bloggers made a haiku.  So to be true to the blog's roots, here it goes:

Bonefish Grill is good.
But hey, I've never been there.
Name stands for something!

Woot.

Blast From the Past

In lieu of a "typical" post, today I'd like to present you with a poem (specifically a villanelle) that I wrote in my English class last year:

Red.

Rivers flowing onward, ever more.
With the ticking of time, except when
The battery dies; misery galore.

Constant rhythm till the heart gets sore,
Thump-thump, Thump-thump, and over again;
Rivers flowing onward, ever more.

A gasp is heard; the room is crowded o’er
As moans spirit away beloved Aunt Gwen,
Her battery dies; misery galore.

A cry is heard; the room is crowded o’er
As elation greets the precious Gwen,
Rivers flowing onward, ever more.

Tiny Gwen opens the life-door
With the tumble of an aged oak, then
A battery dies; misery galore.

And so, dark, grim, figure, your quest for
Red is for naught; green comes with an Amen
Rivers flowing onward, ever more,
Though a battery dies; misery galore.

SPRiNKLES