title: Some Things Just Sound Better on Paper: A Collection of Poems,Convos and Letters the stage may never see...
author: April R. Neal
description: Born October 6, 1989, spoken word artist April Rochelle Neal, originally began writing poetry at the age of nine. Growing up in the small city of Waco, Texas in a large household, poetry became an outlet for her thoughts. When asked how/when she began writing, she responded, When I first got an attitude, whenever I was grounded without radio usageId just write in my journal and sing my favorite songs. I realized even then, anything material could be taken away, but no one could take my voice or my thoughts. Her words stayed on paper, until 2008, when she entered her first Open Mic Poetry Competition. Inspired by HBOs Def Poetrys Gina Loring, April began to infuse words and song together. Her next competition was at an International Church of God in Christ AIM convention where she competed and won first place year after year. This new gift opened doors for her at numerous churches, youth events, college campuses, and the rest is history. April Neals purpose for sharing her gift is to inspire others through words of experience, revelation and sometimes scripture. Pieces she has written range from poverty" to private school reality/college students frustrations to domestic violence. Encouraged by Proverbs 31:9-10 Open your mouth for the mute, for the rights of all the needy. Open your mouth, judge righteousness, and defend the poor and needy(LEB) April Neal has studied at McLennan College and Baylor University as an English Language Arts Secondary Education Major. She currently teaches a leadership and team building class and is pursuing mission work.
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  # Broken Wings
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ### Henry James
  
  
  This page copyright © 2002 Munsey's.
  
  
  http://www.munseys.com
  
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  ### 1
  
  
  
  
  
    
  Conscious as he was of what was between them, though perhaps
  
  
  less conscious than ever of why there should at that time of day be
  
  
  anything, he would yet scarce have supposed they could be so long in a
  
  
  house together without some word or some look. It had been since the
  
  
  Saturday afternoon, and that made twenty-four hours. The party —
  
  
  five-and-thirty people, and some of them great — was one in which
  
  
  words and looks might more or less have gone astray. The effect, none
  
  
  the less, he judged, would have been, for her quite as for himself,
  
  
  that no sound and no sign from the other had been picked up by either.
  
  
  They had happened, both at dinner and at luncheon, to be so placed as
  
  
  not to have to glare — or to grin — across; and for the rest they
  
  
  could each, in such a crowd, a