Articles written by Anna Hill

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A teacher for years, a writer for life.

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Creative Writing > Poetry Poetry: The tragedy of love: 27 of 190

Morning I love him most in the morning, Before he opens his eyes Or his mouth Before he closes another door That was a secret dream of mine. I love him most in the morning, Before I shake off the night's cobwebs Or separate dream from awake Before the day's light is bright enough To see who I'm really with. I love him most i...
Creative Writing > Reflections Reflections: Tribute to my dad on Father's Day: 26 of 58

Lots of girls look to their fathers, if they are lucky enough to have them in their lives, to see how the world perceives them. I know I did. And who did I see reflected in my father's aviator glasses? A smart girl, a responsible girl, but not necessarily an attractive girl. I was too chubby, and in his eyes, or so it seemed...
Health & Fitness > Childhood Disorders Identifying attention deficit disorder (ADD): 6 of 13

Aidan stares blankly at the white board, while students around him are busy working on their big book pages. He smiles a brilliant apologetic smile when I prompt him to get down to business, but within a moment's time he is absorbed in advancing the lead of his automatic pencil to its outermost point, then pushing it back in...
Creative Writing > Poetry Poetry: Optimism: 24 of 43

Maybe this time You won't be let down, Let go- Let loose- Let alone to wage war. Maybe this time You will not give up, Lose faith- Lose will- Lose hope in this world. Maybe this time You will not forget Forbid- Forbear- Forgo hands outstretched. But maybe this time, you'll swallow your pride and with me on your side we'll tu...
Creative Writing > Poetry Poetry: Civil War: 18 of 32

Clara Be not afraid boy, war is won for you. It no longer matters you wore grey or wore blue. Be not afraid boy, take your last breath. I'm here by your side, I won't leave you until death. Be not afraid boy, take your last breath. I will write the letters to tell of your death. I will tell your mother you won't be coming ho...
Creative Writing > Poetry Poetry: Pregnancy: 37 of 45

Delivery The dribble of the shower no longer a comfort- as if it ever was. How can he sleep when I'm suffering like this? Dim light of the energy efficient bulb intermittently interrupted by moths as I wait on the bottom step of the deck. Crickets' wings grate- on each other and on me. How can he not be ready to go? Like the...
Creative Writing > Poetry Poetry: Morning meditations: 77 of 79

I love him most in the morning, Before he opens his eyes Or his mouth Before he closes another door That was a secret dream of mine. I love him most in the morning, Before I shake off the night's cobwebs Or separate dream from awake Before the day's light is bright enough To see who I'm really with. I love him most in the mo...