Imagination

If we do not cultivate the imagination in children, we stifle their ability to see beyond the present; we stunt their inward growth with limitations and prevent their minds from exploring new possibilities that have yet to be thought up. It’s a part of our responsibility to treasure the minds of those that are wide open and help them become who they are destined to be. Imagination leads to the dream that fuels the flame of invention. Imagination is the spark that ignites the fire of discovery. Imagination encompasses everything, limitless, far reaching and powerful. There’s nothing more potent than a child with a dream.

~ Elizabeth Azpurua

Another New Book: Broken

So, my newest poetry ebook is out! Get "Broken" by Elizabeth Azpurua

http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00SP4CN3A

Hope you enjoy it!!

Elizabeth

A Love of Flames and Ashes

A Love of Flames and Ashes

My dearest Woodstove,

I wish to tell you of my profound love for you and how blessed I consider myself to have become acquainted with you.

For many months I struggled through the harsh winters without your warmth as I feared wind, snowstorms and the tragedy of frozen pipes. I yearned for a means of keeping warm when the power would go out or when the wind sent chills down my spine in this lonely attic space.

I had planned for you a happy home; you see, I even bought the tiles months in advance. I knew you would come into my life and grace me with your warmth someday, but I never could have imagined just how fiery you would be. You set my bones on fire! No, not literally – imagine such a thing?  Yet, you do have a way of warming me straight down to my core.

I remember the day I met you like it was yesterday. There was a chill in the October air when they unloaded you off the truck and I saw the first glimpse of your cast iron sides and lovely glass door. You were such a heavy thing to move and I feared you’d just fall right through the floor of my attic space. I admit, my dearest, I feared for us both.

There was a considerable effort put into getting you into the house and up the attic steps and even more considerable effort went into placing you in the exact center of the tiled space. I couldn’t have you just an inch off center! No, for you my dearest, only perfection would do.

As I had stood there admiring your beauty I began envisioning all the fires I would build in you. I knew I mustn’t get ahead of myself though; I still had to get the chimney pipes. You love your chimney pipes, don’t you? I purchased them especially to fit you and provide the best means of smoke to escape from you. I am rather fond of the job we did. Your chimney pipes look lovely and work beautifully. Wouldn’t you agree?

Now, my dear, I must tell you of the first fire. Oh, now don’t blush! I truly found it to be a beautiful little fire. I know we had much to learn at that time of how best to build a fire for you, but I’d say by now we’ve gotten the hang of it. We went from small fires we must cradle and tend to gently and cautiously to raging fires stacked perfectly for the best heat consumption. Your catalytic converter loves your fires now, doesn’t it? We've sure learned a lot.

I love how I can come home and find a nice bed of coals waiting for the perfect logs. The logs catch easily and I can sit and simply gaze at all your flaming glory. I find such magnificent beauty in your flames as they dance and change from yellow, to orange and finally to blue. The bluest flames burn so hot and intense filling your insides with an artful masterpiece of color.

If I ever think back to the days before you’ve come into my life, I recall high electric bills and cold. I am surely uncertain how I have made it this long without you. I never want to go another winter without your warmth spreading through my attic space. I never want to greet another cold, dreary morning without your lovely coals.

I get such pleasure from scooping your ashes out. I feel like Cinderella as I shovel them into the ash pot. It’s not a chore at all, my dear. It’s an honor to rid you of the remnants of the logs that burned like our love.

You are a treasure in my life. I think you are the loveliest woodstove anyone could ask for. I feel blissfully delighted to walk past you every day and stop to warm my hands. I hope we are never parted from each other. I can’t imagine a life without you! If I must move, you must come with me and never warm another’s home but mine. Promise me this: that our love will continue burning on all the cold and dreary winter nights.

I love you, my dearest woodstove. You are the warmth that I set my sight upon each day I escape the cold.

With all the love I possess,

Your Fiery Lover

Elizabeth Azpurua 

So, want a book??

You know you want some books.........

go to http://www.elizabethazpurua.com 

I've got links to all three books on there!

Thanks!

Also, I love reviews!!

Seriously, I love reviews a lot!!

Elizabeth Azpurua

Elegy of Metaphors is Out!

Buy my newest book of poetry here: http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00O845VN0

Elegy of Metaphors has a lot of my unique poetry and odd analogies - hopefully, you enjoy it!

Elizabeth Azpurua

Author Elizabeth Azpurua

OK, so I know I've not posted much "creative writing" here these days, but I've been saving short story snippets and ideas for publishing.

http://www.amazon.com/author/elizabethazpurua

I'm excited for being able to make money while doing what I love - but, I always said I wouldn't worry about the money because I have to write.
I HAVE to.

It's very important to me that I can express my emotions through writing poetry.

http://poetry-lapisfey.blogspot.com

It's also very important that I am able to have a creative outlet for stories. I am able to let go and delve into characters vastly different from who I am. For instance, Abigail...
http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00NHTM7CK
She is a very manipulative, creepy, self satisfying individual. I might be creepy, but I'm never manipulative or self satisfying - or even selfish - yet, it's always an adventure to become another character for a book.

Then, there's http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00MYIA8DA where I am able to give you a glimpse into my soul.
Not all of my poems are about me or based off of something that happened to me; they are all based off of something that happened to someone I love, or something someone I love has been through. My poetry isn't where I sit down to write what sounds good. No; I sit down and I bleed words. I feel until all the "feels" that I am feeling overflow.
I truly hope people are touched by some of what I write.

Elizabeth Azpurua

Abigail by Elizabeth Azpurua

When Abigail is caught after killing a fellow school student, the United States Government holds her prisoner in the hopes of her leading them to more vampires. Offered a chance of freedom and a new life, she agrees to lead them to the vampire who Turned her, but Abigail is a cunning, manipulative vampire, wanting only one thing: to kill. Her captor’s complacency will expose them to truth of what it means to be in the presence of vampires. They always lust for blood, and Abigail has no qualms about getting what she wants.

For More: http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00NHTM7CK to read the rest!!

Poems from The Sky and Sea Are Lovers

http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00MYIA8DA 

http://www.elizabethazpurua.com

By Elizabeth Azpurua

"The Sky and Sea Are Lovers" is Out!!

FINALLY!! I have my book of poetry on sale on Amazon!!

http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00MYIA8DA

Check it out, reviews and feedback are welcome!!

Elizabeth Azpurua

Let Them Eat Cake, Or Ice Cream, Or Both

Preston sat beside Cassidy and exclaimed, "I just love cake so much. I can't get enough of it."
She rolled her eyes, "Yeah, we know how much you love cake."
Joan giggled, "I love cake, too, Cassidy. I wish you did."
Cassidy squirmed, "Oh come on, you know I like ice cream instead."
The all turned as Luke came into the cafe with Bryce. Luke beamed at them, "Hey, I didn't know you guys were here!"
Joan gestures for them to sit down, "There's still room. Have a seat."
Both of them squeezed around the small round table and the waitress came over asking, "What can I get for you?"
Luke quickly responded, "We both want ice cream."
She smiled, "OK, well, if that's what you want....I guess you can have it." She glanced around the room, "You sure?"
Bryce nodded, "Absolutely positive."
She gave another nervous glance and went to the kitchen area.
They all heard the sound of three chairs behind them scrape across the floor as two men came to stand near their table while a stern looking woman stood farther off, her arms crossed shaking her head over and over.
"So, ya like ice cream?" The tallest of the men growled at them.
Luke shrugged, "Yeah."
Cassidy quietly added, "I like ice cream, too. What's wrong?"
Taller man continued, "It's an abomination to like ice cream, boy."
Bryce tensed, "We can like whatever we want. It has nothing to do with you."
"I believe it does. See, you comin' in here shows you think you can do whatever you want."
"We can." Bryce sat up straighter, "We live in a free country."
"Look old man," Joan stood, "I don't know what your problem is, but you need to back the hell up. We can like whatever we want to like. I happen to like cake, just like you. Got a problem with it?"
The woman behind them gasped, "Charles, let's go. I can't be in this establishment anymore." She turned and left, pausing to glare through the glass of the cafe at their small table.
Preston stood, "Look Charles," he nodded at the shorter man, "sir, none of us want trouble, we came to enjoy ourselves, not be made to feel like we're evil."
"But ya are. All of you." He spit towards Luke's sandals and walked out leaving a stunned cafe behind.
Luke took Bryce's hand, "I'm sorry."
Preston glared at everyone who had sat so quietly through their altercation, wondering who else would have something to say.
Cassidy hugged Luke, "Let's go home you guys. You can come to my place."
They all left the cafe and the waitress apologized as soon as the doors closed. "I'm sorry you all had to witness that."
In the quiet that followed, a small boy asked, "What's wrong with liking ice cream? I like ice cream, too."
His mother snatched him from the chair, "No son, in this family, you will not like ice cream. You like cake. Remember? Mommy has told you that."
His eyes swept the room, lingering on the ice cream, "but, I don't like cake, Mom."

By: Elizabeth Azpurua