Is my writing any good? ?

Sorry for my other post, which somehow got messed up. Here is the new, good one. Please give each piece a _/10 rating please!

Storm over the Sea

Rain sprinkled into the ocean like salt from a salt shaker. Waves charged at the shore like ranks of an army, bellowing savage war cries. The hordes of ocean battalions hurled themselves onto the sand, then receded and prepared for their next assault. The pulses of water plowed over a small ebony island in the distance.
The curve of the Earth and the gray sky blended to form a melancholy azure. The clouds that reigned over the water were dull as iron, yet sullen and formidable. As time wore on, rain descended in torrents, bombing the ocean with miniscule seeds of water.
Flocks of seagulls swarmed the shallows, scoping out prey for their young. They snared their targets and ascended to the heavens, until they vanished into the heavens. The sky appeared to be one, colossal cloud.
When the wind’s whistle degraded to not but a placid sigh, the waves serened themselves. The clouds parted and brilliant radiance streamed upon the ocean. Now the waves were tame ripples that licked the shores of the land. The dandelion-yellow sun smiled its jubilee upon the sea, which had changed moods in minimal time.
More gulls soared above the ocean water, admiring its endless expanse and conquering beauty. At last the ocean gleamed lustrously, emanating an air of peace and joy. It has completed Nature’s cycle, and prepared to repeat the process of weather alternations once again.
















Rain Storm’s Dominance

The glowing orb of effulgence suspended in the ocean-blue sky, which was also occupied by cumulus clouds. The white clouds sluggishly swam in the sky, paying no mind to the sweeping grasslands below them. But Nature’s hand was not idle: the cycle of weather was repeating again.
In the distance loomed ominous clouds, which patrolled the heavens gradually. The paved their way through the sky, demolishing clouds that rebelled their presence. As the two forces battled, the dark clouds unleashed a bellow: a roar that chilled the blood and clenched the heart for a split second.
The dark clouds effortlessly consumed the others, and the presence dominated the whole of the sky. With no white clouds to resist them, they traversed the sky and veiled the sun’s luster.
Now that the dark clouds tyrannized the terrain, they mustered their forces. They were silent, although they occasionally released a rumbling growl. The clouds initiated their assault by peppering the shadowed grasslands with rain. Its strength grew, and soon curtains of rain showered down.
The clouds unleashed their constructed rage by thrusting bolts of blinding electricity downwards. The strikes abruptly pinched the ground, which ignited crackling flames. The clouds seemed to defeat their own purpose though, for the rain swept down and extinguished the fire.
As more lightning crashed, strings of reports rang throughout the land. The thunder rolled and smashed, shattering the sky with a boom! and another snap of lightning. The land and sky endured hours of commotion, until the dark clouds grew weary. Their downfall was steady.
First, the rain slowed and eventually ceased. The lightning no longer exited, and the clouds shouted their weak and desperate cry of defeat. The clouds disintegrated, allowing the sun’s brilliance to prevail over sky and earth. The last wispy remnants of the clouds shrunk to nothing, subdued by Nature’s power.
Nature allowed the sun to gleam over the land, enjoying the happiness it brought. The rain clouds had been vanquished, their depressing forms replaced by puffy, white ones. But however much bliss the sun supplied the land, Nature had a responsibility to fulfill. She began working on the next step in her beautiful cycle.





Illusions of Happiness

We beings
can find happiness
in various places.

Some find it in wealth,
through expansive amounts
of money.

Some find it in power,
through the ability to
rule others,
and force them to do
their bidding.

Some find it in fame,
through others’ adoration
and devotion to them.

Some find it in beauty,
through health and
lovely physical appearance.

Although sometimes,
happiness, just like everything
else in the Universe,
is not but an illusion.

A simple illusion which
deceits most of us.

For greed snares opportunities
at pure happiness:

it forces our desire
for wealth, power, fame, and beauty
to escalate,
and twists it like a washrag.

Wealth conquers contentment,
and molds it into extensive lust.

And even when we are
satisfied,
greed deceives us,
and makes us unhappy,
until our sanity
is snuffed out.

Power becomes overwhelming,
and takes control of our
senses and awareness.

It is then that foolishness
forces us to become ignorant.

Fame is similar to power.
Power is similar to fame.
Either is obtained when
one is possessed.
And the consequences of fame
is equal to that of power.

And what does physical appearance
bring us?
Compliments? Smiles? Others’ devotion to
look like you?

These things will force you
to strive for
more, and more, and more,
until you destroy yourself
in your epic quest for
joy,
which was just an illusion.

Which of these best suits
you, dear friend?
Wealth, power, fame, or beauty?
Why not seek true happiness?

Look past the magician’s cunning tricks,
and search for happiness
that can only be found within
yourself and others.

True happiness
can be found by giving
elation to others.
To drop a quarter in a donation box,
to participate in a Walk for
Cancer, or Hunger, or other struggles.

But are these obstacles illusions as well?
Can someone who is starving,
or is pained by a disease
find true happiness also?

Anyone can find true pleasure,
but only if they wander
down the correct path.

Sometimes simple things are
where pure happiness is
found.

Like sitting ‘round a
crackling, welcoming fire,
surrounded by
brothers, sisters,
aunts, uncles,
grandmas, grandpas,
cousins,
mothers, and fathers.

Or a simple stroll down
a beach in the evening,
as the setting sun casts the clouds into
amalgamates of
orange, yellow, pink, and purple,
with the rippling waves
tickling your toes.

So I leave you with this
vague question:
Where will you find happiness?

Will you find it in
wealth,
power,
fame,
or appearance?

Or will you choose happiness through
bliss in unfortunate others,
family and friends,
or tranquil sanctuaries?

As said,
happiness is sometimes
an illusion,
and only the wise can truly
find inner bliss,
and elude the Illusions of Happiness





Answer :
why yes, what lovely personification =-]

William Carlos Williams poem! HELP?

The Yachts

contend in a sea which te land partly encloses
shielding them from the too-heavy blows
of an ungoverned ocean which when it chooses

tortures the biggest hulls, the best man knows
to pit against its beatings, and sinks them pitilessly.
Mothlike in mists, scintillant in the minute

brilliance of cloudless days, with broad bellying sails
they glide to the wind tossing green water
from their sharp prows while over them the crew crawls

ant-like, solicitously grooming them, releasing,
making fast as they turn, lean far over and having
caught the wind again, side by side, head for the mark.

In a well guarded arena of open water surrounded by
lesser and greater crafts which, sycophant, lumbering
and flittering follow them, they appear youthful, rare

as the light of a happy eye, live with the grace
of all that in the mind is fleckless, free and
naturally to be desired. Now the sea whoch holds them

is moody, lapping their glossy sides, as of feeling
for some slightest flaw but fails completely.
Today no race. Then the wind comes again. The yachts

move, jockeying for a start, the signal is set and they
are off. Now the waves strike at them but they are too
well made, the slip through, though they take in canvas.

Arms with hands grasping seek to clutch at the prows
Bodies thrown recklessly in the way are cut aside.
It is a sea of faces about them in agony, in despair

until the horror of the race dawns staggering the mind;
the whole sea become an entanglement of watery bodies
lost to the world bearing what they can not hold. Broken,

beaten, desolate, reaching from the dead to be taken up
they cry out, failing, failing! their cries rising
in waves skill as the skillful yachts pass over.





Answer :
Is there a question?

How does this sound to you?

Okay this was origionally some homework i did for English class, but it kinda morphed into a mini project when the teacher basicly licked my shoes (metaphoricaly speaking) and grovelled at my brilliance today in class. Its about the Titanic, sorry if its kinda long:

We had boarded the great ship, the ‘Titanic’ at around eight of the clock in the evening on Wednesday the tenth of April. The sun almost completely dipped beneath the watery horizon, a warped oval in the sea that glistened like a ruby looking-glass. Mother urged me to hold onto my hat, insistent that if I let go for even a minute, the Atlantic air would blow it right off my head and into the sea!
I gripped the edges of the little boat in my gloved hands. What a fine feeling it was, to be back on the sea at last! Many a woman never crosses it, or even looks upon its majestic beauty. It is a great velvet curtain that ripples in the wind and laps on the sandy shores of our beautiful French coast, maybe having travelled from a far away, exciting land where the sun shines bright, happy as it does on our homeland. Tiny waves caressed the sides of the boat, washing it with such harmless care.
“Blanche, careful you do not fall in now,” he warned in his rich, dark voice. He only put half his heart into it, while he stared into Mother’s eyes. Her head was outlined against the sunset, a bloody halo in a gruesome portrait where the only angel was Mother’s perfect face. Her blonde ringlets twisted like tiny bleached vines next to her pale face, lips like roses above her dainty chin and pretty nose, dusted with a few warm freckles. Her eyes were almost a whole new part of her face, they were so gorgeous. Deep pools of emeralds rose up above her cheekbones and rested under curving eyelashes, flecks of gold rimming coal-black centre. Apparently I look much like Mother, though I see little resemblance myself.
Before us, the ship loomed up above. Lights blared like tiny beacons through the perfectly circular portholes, and four massive chimneys belched smoke into the sunset. I did not gasp, like so many others did, it was merely another passenger liner to take us all to New York. What should be so special about this one? I had been told it was the biggest ship constructed by human hands. A strange image appeared in my mind of tiny men, flies in comparison to the huge bulk of the ‘Titanic’, darting between the bow and the stern, streaks of colour in their wake. Its ungainly, hulking form almost spoiled the beautiful ocean around it.
Our little boat was hauled up from the sea on huge ropes, thick as snakes. Dusk had set in, and we were the first boat to come up. It must have been quite a hassle to fetch the others from the water. Mother, Father and I stood in a small huddle near the wooden deckchairs. A uniformed steward came over to show us to our rooms.
“This way, please sir,” he said in a crisp English accent, and beckoned for us to follow. “Your luggage should have already arrived in your rooms.”
Inside, the smell of paint was acrid. Cigarette smoke tinted the air with a tangy dullness. Salt stung my unaccustomed nose. We were lead down a crisp white passageway, moderately unimpressive, to a lower deck. On the way, I was informed that I would stay in a separate room to my parents, but with a door leading to their room should anything unfortunate happen. I realized we must be in a staff corridor, a quicker route to the rooms. The steward pushed open a door and held it for us. Before us lay the Grand Staircase. Its polished wood was a sheet of glass that could not be seen through, and its great glass dome was like a bubble streaked with gold, stars shining through the inky night sky. Intricate carvings separated the glistening banisters from the stairs, carved cherubs waited in welcoming stillness at the foot of the stairway.
We walked through a rabbit’s warren of polished passages, past delicate doors and over resplendent rugs. It was much like our house in France. At last, we came to our room doors. Our baggage was already sitting neatly in the corner, unpacked by the hired maids and hung up in the wardrobes.
*
The next evening, Father deemed it appropriate that we should dine with the other First Class passengers. I wore an elegant dress of blue silk, the precise shade of the night sky on the tenth of April. The sleeves came to just below my elbows, and Mother insisted I wear gloves, a tiny pair of lacy little things that snagged on my nails. A maid pinned my hair up, it being as brown and as thick as a chestnut, and pinned my hat on over the top. It was truly an amazing hat, deep blue with an indigo feather fastened to the brim.
Father wore his best suit, and Mother her favourite dress. We made our way to the Café Parisien. The walls were latticed wood painted in snowy white, all around the room tables and chairs lurked like waiting predators. Windows displayed the outside ocean like fine art. The plates






Answer :
Wow you can obviously write.
I like the style and the story. Are you doing like a whole book about the Titanic now then?

I need some help with these sentences, anyone can help?

Identify the error in the sentence using the following abbreviations
MM (Misplaced Modifier), SM (Squinting Modifier), DM (Dangling Modifier) or FP (Faulty Parallelism).

1. The rescue team almost arrived too late.

2. He knew what to hardly say.

3. Twisting the valve tightly shut, the fire hydrant stopped spewing water into the street.

4. The scientist received high marks for his brilliance and because he was humorous.

5. While gathering fish out of his net, a sea urchin stung the fisherman.

6. We enjoyed his company because of his stories and how he told them.

7. Mary noticed sometimes her hair was askew.

8. Admitting that he was partially at fault, the driver tried to not completely avoid taking blame.

9. While playing basketball in the driveway, my ball was punctured by a cactus.

10. Baring his teeth and growling, the mailman edged nervously away from the dog.

11. Dad said on the way to the game we would stop for ice cream.

12. Dillan tried to sweep the messy leaves from the roof with the broom.





Answer :
1. what grade are you in because that's hard
2. im sorry