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Emily Milloy Williamsliving in Vidalia, GA
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| TOTAL VIEWS: 6,831 | | | PUBLISHED CONTENT: 12 | | | FAVORITED BY: 1 | | | CONTENT PRODUCER SINCE: 04/14/2007 |
I am a 24 year old southern woman. Good writing, good music, and good people are my three most favorite parts of life. I believe it is a small world after all and that the cup is half full. Education/Experience: Summe Cum Laude English Degree/Film Studies Minor from University of North Carolina Charlotte. My writings have been published for Relevant magazine online and in Creative Loafing, a Charlotte, NC newspaper. Motto: We are what we believe. URL RSS |
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Showing Results 1 - 12 of 12
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Garage sales aren't rocket science; they're not even a science. But neither is playing a slot machine and even that has a few strategies. If you want to sell as much as you can, you must lay out your wares efficiently, price wisely, and advertise thoroughly. By Emily Milloy Williams | Published 9/19/2007
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There are four standardized games in the croquet canon: American Backyard (a.k.a. Nine Wicket), American, and Poison. I will define each game-focusing on the easiest one to explain to a bunch of mosquito-bit partygoers looking for a good time, American Backyard Croquet.
By Emily Milloy Williams | Published 8/26/2007
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It is innate that you would swim
That you would fight
With your spider-web of smooth, muscular skin By Emily Milloy Williams | Published 7/10/2007
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Jean-Philippe Rameau lived during the period of history known as Baroque, a time of progress which heralded the advent of modern Europe. The Baroque period is considered the time between 1600-1750. Rameau experienced the Baroque. . . By Emily Milloy Williams | Published 5/9/2007
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Whenever I need to use the restroom at my parent's house I choose either my siblings' or the downstairs bathroom-in other words, I never use Mom & Dad's bathroom. Their toilet is a victim of low water pressure By Emily Milloy Williams | Published 5/2/2007
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You suffocate me with your seal-pressed wrapper
Small enough for a rat's raincoat
Crinkle it in my ear
While you sip your rootbeer float By Emily Milloy Williams | Published 5/1/2007
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Cho was once in a hot air balloon
Looking above the growing land
Eating a sandwich black and maroon
By Emily Milloy Williams | Published 4/26/2007
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The study of language and grammar, and the defining of its terms, are not to be taken for granted. Men and women have, for centuries, sought to explain and organize our way of communication, hoping to bring order to chaos. . . By Emily Milloy Williams | Published 4/25/2007
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Pine is the silva of the South
Its bark is sleeved with the dust of natives
In vespertine growth
It gains its envious rings of history By Emily Milloy Williams | Published 4/25/2007
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The summer we thought you would die
Cast a shadow on the earth
My hair smelled like rye
Out of depression
By Emily Milloy Williams | Published 4/23/2007
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I know I will see you in the morning
But every night I forget
You can slip in the back door
And only when you're as tired as your mother
Are my dreams of random scenes
By Emily Milloy Williams | Published 4/18/2007
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I am awake and rise from my bed
By the orange rush of such a sun.
You come in and out of my mind;
You are on me like these sheets
By Emily Milloy Williams | Published 4/18/2007
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