~ Ellen Marie Drummonds' ePortfolio ~
  • Welcome!
  • My Goals and Outcomes
  • Coursework
  • Outside the Classroom
  • My Passion
  • Résumé

My Artworks:
From the Windows "Paint" Application
&
F
rom My Personal Camera

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"Beautious Onlooker"
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Tunisia (created for Arab Spring PowerPoint given in April, 2013)
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"Jungle Night"
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" 'Redemption' Gaming Layout"
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"Bloom and Grow"
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"From Utah, with Love"
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"Now to Fly Forward"
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"Serendipity . . . Now"
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"Daisy and Turtle"
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"Blossom Light"
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(Credit to online photographer)

Creative Writing:


The Quilt That Would Keep No One Warm
           

April, 2010
 
     For many generations, the Devereaux women of Alabama assembled together every 1st of September to begin preparing for Smuckerville’s annual Quilting Display contest every Christmas Eve day.  Grandmothers, mothers, cousins, sisters, and in-laws all sewed their hands sore for months before the actual event.  But this year, they decided that they were going to win, no matter what it took.  So, instead of keeping the practice of each woman sewing a patch for the quilt, Mama Eleanor ordered that each woman would work on every patch and observe each other’s handiwork, to make certain that every stitch was utterly flawless.  The women worked painstakingly for hours on end, so much that some of their marriages began to fall apart and their children became neglected.  But, finally, the big day came.  Every blacksmith, woodsman, nursemaid, schoolboy, and schoolgirl gathered ‘round to behold such fine works of art.  With the quilt attached to a board and raised high in the air, a few of the youngest of the Devereaux women proudly rolled out the board to display such a fabulous result of all their efforts.  But as they were moving it out onto the stage, one of the many thousands of overworked stitches on the side of the quilt got caught on Melanie Deveraux’s zipper on her jacket, and, as she walked off the stage, so did miles of thread.  The quilt was left in patches and clumps on the stage, the women and the townspeople alike crying in sheer horror and disbelief.

            ~ Too many cooks spoil the broth. ~

Picture
(Credit to online photographer)

~ THE COVE ~

August, 2010 and 2012


Behold the steadfast fort in quickening sand--

Seagrass sways not like its sister on land

But clings henceforth to the host it’s claimed

Decays this barricade, and both remain


Remiss to the ebbs and flows of tide below

Miss Parapet above, her wings do show

Extending beyond the ancient flow

Of salty comeuppance, repentance sown


Dark and daft the peak presides

Its jagged rocks, the menace besides

The garrison’s annex to keep it in check

Should its people wander softly off the deck


Ghost of the ways and days of spirit sustained

Tarnishes the façade of the long-time maintained

Ship that doth speaketh this name into sight

Parapet Dove yet pursuing our light


Hear that I hear the lighthouses near

As the boats come about ‘pon the water so clear

See the haunting pier too soon to appear

The midnight weary coming close to the rear


The weeping woman with her hand caressing the sand

Her hollow tears the stain on an unlovable man

The fish in the sea are free to roam in the waters

While she is there on the shore with a heart for slaughter


Oh, the deep ocean of her being is imprisoned above

In the fortress of night that scars her dying love

Plead with her to keep her life before she’s lost

The Sea Captain’s wish comes at so great a cost


Pray that the shining Moon keeps her safe this time

That her lover under cover of dark will arrive, survive

Miss Parapet is her name, Sarah who remains the same

The beauty of the Sun to welcome her again.

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Photo used under Creative Commons from Lawrie Cate