tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17522403713517668082012-02-14T04:07:30.653-07:00H.J. Hanauerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01228974358795557002noreply@blogger.comBlogger251100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1752240371351766808.post-2474249641572803942010-03-02T22:21:00.000-07:002010-03-02T22:21:10.342-07:00

I wasn’t fond of dreams, at least not usually. They were always full of inane nonsense. Usually it was something about being late to work, or I would dream that I had gotten up, brushed my teeth, showered, ate, and gone through my day before my alarm would sound and I would really wake up. It was annoying. Recently, though, my dreams had begun to change. I’d wake up screaming in the middle of

H.J. Hanauerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01228974358795557002noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1752240371351766808.post-34777678763456672292009-09-02T09:08:00.001-06:002009-09-02T09:10:10.717-06:00

Death flies on wings of moonlight,Poisoning dreams in the course of its flight.Life comes on wings of the sun,Bringing balance when the night is done.Dawn breaks on angels' wings,Casting grace onto all living things.Dusk falls on ravens' wings,Carrying a banner of fallen kings.Discord arrives on the wings of fancy,Taking a risk on words that are chancy.Peace draws near on the wings of a dove,

H.J. Hanauerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01228974358795557002noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1752240371351766808.post-74019818355635958212008-07-29T10:20:00.001-06:002008-07-29T10:22:41.568-06:00

Tuesday had begun in an alarmingly normal fashion. Judy had sent her alarm clock to the floor with a fist, sat up, yawned, and gone to brush her teeth. Muffin, her beloved companion, had shown his love for her by leaving a half eaten lizard on the kitchen floor. The cat himself was nowhere to be seen, which was typical. Only when he was hungry did he deign to show his face indoors.The cheap

H.J. Hanauerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01228974358795557002noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1752240371351766808.post-56268494001253849102008-07-08T21:09:00.003-06:002008-07-08T21:28:02.765-06:00

In the end, we all discover the futility of life.Dora Anderson sits in the window seat. Bright sunbeams struggle through the tiny seams between the blinds, dust motes swirl and scatter like honey bees at the end of summer, desperate to cover as much ground as possible before winter swallows their precious flowers.Opaque white eyes see none of it. In withered old hands is gripped a stuffed penguin

H.J. Hanauerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01228974358795557002noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1752240371351766808.post-19118039873921573702008-06-23T17:23:00.001-06:002008-06-23T17:30:29.992-06:00

Winds blow strong and menacingThe earth shakes beneath my feetMy thoughts are scattered and wanderingI am about to concede defeatHold me close in your armsCradle my fragile heart in your handsClose to you, I'm safe from harmThere's no better place in this No Man's LandHold me as I weepHold me till I'm strongHold me and keep meI'll have to let go before longI don't want to face the night on my

H.J. Hanauerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01228974358795557002noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1752240371351766808.post-79487320384404435772008-05-21T00:00:00.002-06:002008-05-21T00:08:14.403-06:00

Why do we standIn the middle of the stream?Why don't we takeA chance and lead the team?We are meant to liveFor so much more.We are meant to beMore alive than ever before.Don't just stand there,Live out loud, dream it up.You'll never knowUntil you take the plunge.Do you want to liveYour life in stagnationOr do you want to feelThe breeze caress your face?We are meant to liveFor so much more.We are

H.J. Hanauerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01228974358795557002noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1752240371351766808.post-7786388771896242732008-05-17T00:32:00.003-06:002008-06-23T17:34:52.435-06:00

Kiss the rainSing to the skiesDon't bother with dryingThe tears I see in your eyesI'm there for youWhen life carriesYou away in a delugeOf fear, of pride, of failureWe all make mistakesDon't hide awayDon't lower your eyesI want to see youI'll help you learn how to fly

H.J. Hanauerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01228974358795557002noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1752240371351766808.post-15815917014492879712008-04-21T11:09:00.000-06:002008-04-21T11:10:08.835-06:00

Given breath, given life,Given sorrow, given strife,Knowledge learnedThrough work and life,Is anything truly mine?Father's eyes, mother's chin,Sister's laugh and brother's grin,Face definedBy blood and bone,Is it even mine?My own mind, my own sin,My own voice, and my own skin,What good are theyIn my lifeWhen nothing's truly mine?Lessons learned and put to heart,Even though it's torn apart,These

H.J. Hanauerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01228974358795557002noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1752240371351766808.post-58735157193636530722008-04-15T16:47:00.004-06:002008-04-21T11:24:48.287-06:00

It was raining. Again.Sarah McKinley hated the rain. The sky became gray and dreary, the moisture falling from the sky was frigid, it soaked you to the skin almost instantly, and it made everything muddy and slick. The only thing she liked about the occasional desert rainstorm was the smell: cool and clean, drifting up from the pavement and whispering in her ear about far off places and scattered

H.J. Hanauerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01228974358795557002noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1752240371351766808.post-54727018209316809292008-04-03T14:40:00.004-06:002008-04-03T14:49:50.499-06:00

Here I am again,Alone with my thoughtsWandering the depthsOf my mind.Two candles are litBy the window.The flames sputter and twist,Giving me light and warmth.Pen touches paper,Glides on a black streakThrough a boundless seaOf white perfection.Symbols soon form.Letters convey thoughts,Not blemishing theInimitable page,But enhancing purpose.From these simple words,A story unfoldsTelling of beauty

H.J. Hanauerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01228974358795557002noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1752240371351766808.post-60898358895925141262008-03-19T00:10:00.000-06:002008-03-19T00:11:47.210-06:00

Far awayOn the shores of Shattered DreamsA small, lone travelerLearns that nothing is as it seemsPromises fadeLove is buriedThe only constant thingsAre death and decayOn the shores of Shattered DreamsThat one small travelerKnows that no one can hear himEven when he screamsHe wanders on the shoreMade of sharp, jagged, unforgiving stoneThe waves beat an angry rhythmOn that cold black stoneThe sky

H.J. Hanauerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01228974358795557002noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1752240371351766808.post-38380917428261171682008-03-13T16:12:00.001-06:002008-03-13T16:13:40.164-06:00

Not my vid, but still very thought-provoking."A Vision of Students Today"

H.J. Hanauerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01228974358795557002noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1752240371351766808.post-21069185328752836712008-03-13T14:17:00.002-06:002008-12-09T12:58:15.115-07:00

Inspired by the picture to the left. I saw and it simply begged for a story; who was I to refuse? -------------------------- Nothing would ever be the same.He stooped toward the ground, delicately lifting a shredded scrap of cloth that had been trodden into the forest floor. Clutching it in his fist, he began to shake with rage and sorrow. Then, slowly—reverently—he tied the silver scrap to

H.J. Hanauerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01228974358795557002noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1752240371351766808.post-90344788712872439472008-03-13T14:12:00.003-06:002008-03-13T14:17:18.915-06:00

A stiff, bitingly cold wind rushed through the streets, rustling the dead leaves and searing exposed skin like fire. The moon was full, but hidden behind clouds of deepest black.On the corner of a street filled with ramshackle houses and gnarled trees stood the figure of a man. Tall and sharp-featured, any who dared to glance at him were soon scurrying away, suspicious of the stranger with the

H.J. Hanauerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01228974358795557002noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1752240371351766808.post-28983136477864609322008-03-13T14:09:00.001-06:002008-03-26T22:57:57.457-06:00

What does it takeFor you to see me as I am?Why do you always claim That you know my innermost thoughts?Do you really want do knowWhat goes oninmyhead?Dark waves of thought crash violently On the rocky shores of belief,The full moon casts light On the dark forests of emotion,The sun tries valiantly, Only sometimes succeeding, To brighten the cavernsOf experience.My

H.J. Hanauerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01228974358795557002noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1752240371351766808.post-46403065686646215992008-03-13T14:08:00.000-06:002008-03-13T14:09:22.517-06:00

I want to fly away from hereBefore I sink into the earth;I want to conquer my fearI want to feel the exhilaration of new birth!These days are all the same;They drag by as the clock ticks.I'm sick of always playing this game.I want to fly like a phoenix.I want to escape the constant pressureOf trying to always do what's right.I want someone to reassureMe that I have not lost my will to fight.I

H.J. Hanauerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01228974358795557002noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1752240371351766808.post-28795065717658719902008-03-13T14:07:00.000-06:002008-03-13T14:08:00.090-06:00

Silver and ebony, smooth and sleekTo make children laughAnd women weepWood and metal, perfect toolsTo make strong men crumbleAnd the wise look like foolsNo one can know Music's mindThere is no harder thing to findBut we do, again and againFind the mystery, sometimes the painOf lost love Loneliness Or fear.The music sways, ever movingLost souls join in common thoughtBarriers brokenFor who can

H.J. Hanauerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01228974358795557002noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1752240371351766808.post-35156049040424080822008-03-13T13:56:00.002-06:002008-03-13T14:06:42.434-06:00

I wrote this essay last year for my English 220 class and got a 96. I decided to share it...Yucca Mountain Repository: Practical Solution?Nuclear Waste: These two words almost never fail to gain the attention of any citizen, and the first concern is "Is it dangerous?" Yes. But you must also consider long-term exposure to the sun, excessive X-rays, and rush hour traffic. Like these other examples,

H.J. Hanauerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01228974358795557002noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1752240371351766808.post-85016353242113889702008-03-12T21:52:00.003-06:002008-03-12T22:02:40.383-06:00

Concrete, a single flickering bulb jutting out from the industrial wall, copper pipes on the ceiling dripping grimy water and caked with greenish rust.“So,” a deep, slightly Scottish voice purred, “This is where the Chief lives.”A man stood at the end of the hallway, leaning against a metal doorjamb. The room beyond him was spare, populated by a large battered military desk in the center, facing

H.J. Hanauerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01228974358795557002noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1752240371351766808.post-46004345096839468132008-03-12T21:48:00.002-06:002008-03-12T21:52:35.055-06:00

The South Forest of Jenigral Kingdom was quite peaceful during the day, when the Shalari dragons were sleeping. The blood-red reptiles only woke with the setting of the sun to hunt the humans that encroached upon their forest, and slept from sunrise to sunset. Daylight meant safety and peace.It was high noon and fourteen-year-old Lillian sat in the highest branches of an oak tree, looking over

H.J. Hanauerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01228974358795557002noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1752240371351766808.post-10563178826457363742008-03-12T21:47:00.004-06:002008-03-12T22:13:01.537-06:00

Never forget the painBut never forget to laughWithout joy, we live life in vainAnd of it, we only see one halfNever forget the sorrowBut never let the tears rule youThere is a time, maybe nowTo cry and to grieve,But smiles get lonely, too.Never forget to leave time to ponderThe intricacies of lifeNever forget to wanderBut don't ignore the strifeBecause if we forget to takeThe bad along with the

H.J. Hanauerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01228974358795557002noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1752240371351766808.post-21921635954177164802008-03-12T21:47:00.003-06:002008-03-12T22:12:02.313-06:00

The hall was a brilliant shade of white, scattering the light filtering though the stained glass windows into the farthest corners of the cavernous space. Neleda, the daughter of the fairy king and queen, thought it looked a bit pompous.In all honesty, it wasn't her parent's fault that the throne room looked like the result of a high-speed collision involving several trucks loaded with day-glo

H.J. Hanauerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01228974358795557002noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1752240371351766808.post-42769139675612427352008-03-12T21:42:00.000-06:002008-03-12T21:43:17.136-06:00

Give me a reasonTo feel the sun shine on my faceGive me one momentTo catch my breath and find my placeI don't want to fallInto that place againAlways waiting with open jawsReady to swallow me wholeI try to break freeSometimes I seeThat my efforts have not been in vainBreak free with meLets run and we'll seeThats it's possible to winI don't want to loseThis fragile hope insideI don't want to cryOr

H.J. Hanauerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01228974358795557002noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1752240371351766808.post-11057336458510399532008-03-12T21:19:00.000-06:002008-03-12T21:27:49.749-06:00

Feel the breeze on your faceThe crescendo of time immortalDrink in the beauty of this placeAnd find yourself aliveDo you see the phoenixDancing on the wind?Do you want to fly with himUntil a day undetermined?Feel the weight of lifeShed from your bruised shouldersLet it catch in the fireWatch it as it smoldersThese chains are goneNow you are freeTo be anyoneAnd explore this reality

H.J. Hanauerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01228974358795557002noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1752240371351766808.post-7786007019158324022008-03-12T20:43:00.001-06:002008-12-09T12:58:15.427-07:00

Welcome to "Simple Scribblings of a Sanguine Student," my friend!  Simple: Humble Scribblings: Written pieces Sanguine: Cheerfully optimistic Student: One who is studying a profession Here, you will find various pieces of my work, from poetry to prose. They are here for your enjoyment and input, and I appreciate any constructive criticism offered. Yours,H.J. Hanauer

H.J. Hanauerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01228974358795557002noreply@blogger.com0