I am aware that I been absent for a while but the reason is that I been working with my group in our project of the white Buffalo calf woman twbcw for short. The reason we pick this myth is because it is a native American myth something that is usual in English classes. When thinking about it I can remember when was the last time I have read a Native American myth. I have always wonder why English classes don't teach native American literature?  Is it because their literature is not important or as interesting as the other stories?  Whatever the case is I would like to teach about Native American literature so my students would be able to understand the real American culture.

my email is 
magictina245@gmail.com

Poetry and its fantasy

Hello guys,

      Honestly poetry is my weakness, but doing these two poems it was helpful.  These two poems are free verse and I hope you like them.
                              

                                                             Poison

Your poison is the sweet liquid

My heart desires

Even though it kills me

I desire more

The sweet poison is my addiction

It consumes me and I

 

refuse to lose your sweet poison.

But let’s face it,

Nunca podre tapar el sol con un dedo

 should we?

I’d rather have your poison

Than nothing at all

 

                 Your lips are my weakness

Every time we kiss

          I forget who I am? The hate and love we feel

 

Our souls may be as cold as ice

But our lips know the truth

They awake the passion we both have

 

But time is up,

and the effects of your poison is gone.

 

 

 

you in winter

Nature has its mysteries as do you,

      Winter is when I miss you most.

The emptiness has swallowed my

heart. The agony has stolen my soul.

 

Patience is a virtue, and

I promise to wait

but my heart eagers

and I should wait

All the memories I have

Locked away in your soul

 

Every time the wind blows

Your scent embraces me, my skin shivers

I close my eyes and I see you  

The days are long and shallow as a puddle in summer

Even the sun wonders if you ever coming back

 

But I’ll be patient because

the hope

To see you blossom makes me wait and wonder.