1) A Friendly Clown

On one corner of my dresser sits a smiling toy clown on a

tiny unicycle--a gift I received last Christmas from a close
friend. The clown's short yellow hair, made of yarn,
covers its ears but is parted above the eyes. The blue
eyes are outlined in black with thin, dark lashes flowing
from the brows. It has cherry-red cheeks, nose, and lips,
and its broad grin disappears into the wide, white ruffle
around its neck. The clown wears a fluffy, two-tone nylon
costume. The left side of the outfit is light blue, and the
right side is red. The two colors merge in a dark line that
runs down the center of the small outfit. Surrounding its
ankles and disguising its long black shoes are big pink
bows. The white spokes on the wheels of the unicycle
gather in the center and expand to the black tire so that
the wheel somewhat resembles the inner half of a
grapefruit. The clown and unicycle together stand about
a foot high. As a cherished gift from my good friend Tran,
this colorful figure greets me with a smile every time I
enter my room.

Here is the final version of the descriptive paragraph that

appears in the exercise Practice in Supporting a Topic
Sentence with Specific Details. Compare this version with
the earlier one to see which descriptions have been
retained, what information has been omitted, and how
sentences have been reworded and rearranged.
2) The Blond Guitar
By Jeremy Burden
My most valuable possession is an old, slightly warped
blond guitar--the first instrument I taught myself how to
play. It's nothing fancy, just a Madeira folk guitar, all
scuffed and scratched and finger-printed. At the top is a
bramble of copper-wound strings, each one hooked
through the eye of a silver tuning key. The strings are
stretched down a long, slim neck, its frets tarnished, and
the wood worn by years of fingers pressing chords and
picking notes. The body of the Madeira is shaped like an
enormous yellow pear, one that was slightly damaged in
shipping. The blond wood has been chipped and gouged
to gray, particularly where the pick guard fell off years
ago. No, it's not a beautiful instrument, but it still lets me
make music, and for that I will always treasure it.

In the next descriptive paragraph, the student writer

focuses less on the physical appearance of her pet than
on the cat's habits and actions.
3) Gregory
By Barbara Carter
Gregory is my beautiful gray Persian cat. He walks with
pride and grace, performing a dance of disdain as he
slowly lifts and lowers each paw with the delicacy of a
ballet dancer. His pride, however, does not extend to his
appearance, for he spends most of his time indoors
watching television and growing fat. He enjoys TV
commercials, especially those for Meow Mix and 9 Lives.
His familiarity with cat food commercials has led him to
reject generic brands of cat food in favor of only the most
expensive brands. Gregory is as finicky about visitors as
he is about what he eats, befriending some and repelling
others. He may snuggle up against your ankle, begging
to be petted, or he may imitate a skunk and stain your
favorite trousers. Gregory does not do this to establish
his territory, as many cat experts think, but to humiliate
me because he is jealous of my friends. After my guests
have fled, I look at the old fleabag snoozing and smiling
to him in front of the television set, and I have to forgive
him for his obnoxious, but endearing, habits.

The following paragraph opens the third chapter of

Maxine Hong Kingston's The Woman Warrior: Memoirs of
a Girlhood among Ghosts (Knopf, 1976), a lyrical account
of a Chinese-American girl growing up in California.
Notice how Kingston integrates informative and
descriptive details in this account of "the metal tube" that
holds her mother's diploma from medical school.
4) The Magic Metal Tube
By Maxine Hong Kingston
Once in a long while, four times so far for me, my mother
brings out the metal tube that holds her medical diploma.
On the tube are gold circles crossed with seven red lines
each--"joy" ideographs in abstract. There are also little
flowers that look like gears for a gold machine. According
to the scraps of labels with Chinese and American
addresses, stamps, and postmarks, the family airmailed
the can from Hong Kong in 1950. It got crushed in the
middle, and whoever tried to peel the labels off stopped
because the red and gold paint come off too, leaving
silver scratches that rust. Somebody tried to pry the end
off before discovering that the tube falls apart. When I
open it, the smell of China flies out, a thousand-year-old
bat flying heavy-headed out of the Chinese caverns
where bats are as white as dust, a smell that comes from
long ago, far back in the brain.
1. “Dark shapes glide through the night sky on silent
wings, their sinister shadows outlined against the
light of a full moon. Swooping down to the earth,
they hover near houses and deserted buildings,
breaking the peace of the night with their disturbing
 presence. Carriers of disease, drinkers of blood,
companions of witches and demons, bats – the very
word brings a shiver of fear to most people.”
2. “Anybody could see how cold it got. The wind
already had glass edges to it, stiffening muscles and
practically cutting through the stitches of our
clothes. When it blew, the chill stabbed our teeth
like icicles, and our voices jiggled every time we
talked.”
3. It was a cold grey day in late November. The weather
had changed overnight, when a backing wind
brought a granite sky and a mizzling rain with it, and
although it was now only a little after two o'clock in
the afternoon the pallor of a winter evening seemed
to have closed upon the hills, cloaking them in mist.
It would be dark by four. The air was clammy cold,
and for all the tightly closed windows it penetrated
the interior of the coach. The leather seats felt damp
to the hands, and there must have been a small
crack in the roof, because now and again little drips
of rain fell softly through, smudging the leather and
leaving a dark-blue stain like a splodge of ink. The
wind came in gusts, at times shaking the coach as it
travelled round the bend of the road, and in the
exposed places on the high ground it blew with such
force that the whole body of the coach trembled and
swayed, rocking between the high wheels like a
drunken man.
The driver, muffled in a greatcoat to his ears, bent
almost double in his seat in a faint endeavour to gain
shelter from his own shoulders, while the dispirited
horses plodded sullenly to his command, too broken
by the wind and the rain to feel the whip that now
 and again cracked above their heads, while it swung
between the numb fingers of the driver.
The wheels of the coach creaked and groaned as
they sank into the ruts on the road, and sometimes
they flung up the soft spattered mud against the
windows, where it mingled with the constant driving
rain, and whatever view there might have been of
the countryside was hopelessly obscured.
The few passengers huddled together for warmth,
exclaiming in unison when the coach sank into a
heavier rut than usual, and one old fellow, who had
kept up a constant complaint ever since he had
joined the coach at Truro, rose from his seat in a
fury; and, fumbling with the window-sash, let the
window down with a crash, bringing a shower of rain
upon himself and his fellow-passengers. He thrust his
head out and shouted up to the driver, cursing him in
a petulant voice for a rogue and a murderer; that
they would all be dead before they reached Bodmin
if he persisted in driving at breakneck speed; they
had no breath left in their bodies as it was, and he
for one would never travel by coach again.
4. The last day of my high school career is fast
approaching and I can only imagine how I'll be
feeling when I step out of Valley High School grounds
for the very last time. Throughout these four years, I
have felt a lot of urgency about graduating high
school. I didn't think that the time to graduate would
come soon enough. But now, that time is finally
nearing. I cannot believe that it has come this fast.

I remember my first days of high school. I was just

dying to experience all the new and exciting things
 that awaited me. From sports to girls to all the
partying, I just wanted to know what everything was
like. Now that I've done all those things and many
more, I am about to embark on a new adventure that
will take me too many more new experiences. Some
say that, "high school was the best time of my life.”
Just like others say that high school was the worst
time in their lives. To be honest, I am not sure which
category I fall into. I've had plenty of good times, as
well as just as many bad times, in high school. The
only thing I can say is that I learned a lot while I was
here. I know not just what I was taught through
books, but I learned about life and the road ahead of
me.

From being an inexperienced freshman to a

somewhat mature senior, things have really changed
for me. I started high school as a disrespectful and
cocky athlete, dying to conquer the world, which I
did not know much about. I will leave high school as
a world-weary senior, knowing that there are many
dangers to encounter in the real world. Realistically, I
do not know what the world out there holds for me.
All I can do is enter it with a guarded optimism and
hope for the best.
5. Descriptive Essay - The Owl

A scream passing through an open window at the

edge of town rattles the settled sounds of a night
tucked in, the filtering whispers of leaves outside in
the breeze interrupted, yielding to the call of a
helpless exater protected by sound walls; only the
nearby creek persists. Call of crickets resigns under
 full moon, and hill-riding wind halts for a moment
following the cry. Slowly, the leaves begin to whisper
again, though slightly muffled, offset by the
impression of a scream when it was the last thing on
the night’s mind.

Like his twisted feathers, his many scars, the reliable

old owl chose the gnarled, weather-beaten, but solid
branch often—it being a companion to the wise alone
with the night and the last branch to creak in the
heaviest wind.
6. Descriptive Writing

A few days before Christmas, Oxford Street is

swarming with last minute shoppers, laden with
parcels and bags. Christmas is the highlight for many
people, especially little childen, from as tall as your
ankle to as tall as your knee. Small toddlers were
moaning and disappearing into the clothes racks like
magicians disappearing in a puff of smoke
entertaining the gullible audiences.

Families and friends gradually emerge from clogged

buses and congested trains, tired, exhausted and
hungry even at this very early stage, as if they had
spent the whole night awake, like a distressed parent
waiting for their child to arrive home from a party
but have still not arrived, two hours past their
curfew.

Oxford Street is the main high street of the whole of

England. It flocks many tourists, as though it has a
force or power, just like opposite ends of a magnet
 attract one another. Oxford Street is as long as I can
possibly imagine; it is 10 times longer
than any local high street and is as wide as six
elephants….
7. As the morning slowly dawns and the sun begins to
beam through the light boxes on the top of the
spacious classrooms, the tables and chairs begin to
glow. Around the edge of the child’s playground the
golden and red leaves begin to whistle in the wind
like the sound of a child’s toy, whilst the sound of the
crying babies echoes through the grounds of Birds
Bush Primary School as if it were a stuck record.

When the children have arrived and the playground

has begun to fill with fragile, pleasant little children
ready for new day of fun
learning. When the brass bell sounds, each and
every child on the playground grabs their bag and
tries to “bagsy” a place at the front. When the
teachers arrive like soldiers, the sound, which is loud
and frustrating, soon turns into calm, silence, then
immediately the teachers’ faces light up, as if they
have power over the children. When the register is
taken the children soon become fidgety and agitated
as a bee because of the rough, un-even carpet
rubs……
8. I'm embarrassed to say my first thought was that of
relief when my mother called to say that he was
dead. It had been five long years and I was
completely exhausted trying to deal with him.
Finally, it was over. In the last few weeks, his health
had worsened, so I had called the nursing home that
Sunday morning and asked the supervisor if I should
drive the 130 miles to see him. She said he wasn't
doing very well, but that he seemed to have nine
lives; one minute he was at death's door, and the
next he was sitting in the recreation room having
another cigarette. It's a good thing I didn't make the
trip, because less than an hour later, my mom called
to say it was over.

I remember when I first noticed that there was

something wrong with Dad. I lived only about a mile
away from my parents, and I walked over a couple of
times a week to visit. That particular day as I walked
up the driveway toward the back door, he stepped
out of the garage and whispered in a secretive voice
that he needed to talk to me. He was concerned that
his backyard neighbors were growing marijuana
behind their garage and he insisted that I come with
him to take a look. Their fence was less than a foot
away from the back of their garage, and it was
apparent to me that there wasn't enough room for
them to mow behind it. In the meantime, my brother
showed up, and we both assured Dad that having
grown up in the 1970s made us somewhat experts
on marijuana and this wasn't it; it was just weeds!
We thought we'd heard the end of it until my mom
called the next day to tell me that he'd gone out
during the middle of the night with a flashlight to
take clippings off of the offending plants and had
taken them to the police department for
identification. They assured him they were just
weeds, but thanked him for being such a good
citizen.

It was a short time later that I remarried and

moved 130 miles away. He went downhill really
quickly after that. First, he started having minor
accidents with the car. He'd back out of the driveway
really fast and slam into the car parked across the
street. When the neighbors would come out to
inspect their damaged car, he'd yell at them for
having the nerve to park across from his driveway.
Then one day he disappeared at 5:00 a.m. No one
had any idea where he was until my sister who lives
in a Chicago suburb received a call from the police in
Lake Villa Park, Illinois, at midnight. It seems they
found him standing outside of his car, completely
disoriented. He explained to the police that he was
forty years old, and was returning from a fishing trip.
He was convinced he was close to home because he
noticed that he was on Walnut Street. The only
problem is, he lived in Green Bay, Wisconsin. He had
been in Illinois for most of the day, blowing through
all the tollways without paying, and even stopping
for gas and driving off. That was the last straw for
my brother; Dad's driving privileges were history.

Through all of this, my mother steadfastly refused

to put Dad in a nursing home. Then, one day his
health really started deteriorating. He was in the
hospital for a heart problem, when a doctor and a
social worker spoke to her, finally convincing her that
it was time for a nursing home. She couldn't take
him back home again. He was at the nursing home
about an hour when he got dressed and walked right
out the front door, got on a city bus, and headed for
the casino. The nursing supervisor was in hot pursuit,
finally catching up with him at the bus transfer
station. Now, he was off to a locked Alzheimer's
home. It was there that his health problems finally
got the best of him. All those years of smoking and
diabetes and heart problems finally took their toll. I
was relieved to know that the stress was finally over.
No more phone calls that started with "Guess what
he did now?"

After all I'd been through I had forgotten about the

real man that was my father. He had been retired
from Procter & Gamble Paper Products for about
twelve years at the time of his death. But people
who worked for my dad twenty years before he
retired came to his wake. "He was the best boss I
ever had." "I'll never forget how understanding your
dad was when my wife and I had problems. He was
so supportive." "Your dad was so much fun; he made
work a really nice place to go every day." For hours,
the people just kept coming, waiting in line to speak
to my family. I could finally reflect on the person he'd
been before and put the past five years behind me.

He was the man who had grown up with an

alcoholic father and had to get a paper route at a
young age to help buy food for his family. He was the
man who served as a medic in the U.S. Navy at Pearl
Harbor during World War II. He was the man who
raised money for United Way every year. He was the
man who felt that earning a living would help the
disabled feel useful again, so he arranged for them
to be paid for repackaging products from Procter &
Gamble. He was the man that shoveled snow for all
the elderly neighbors and made sure his kids knew
better than to accept money for helping someone in
need. He worked hard, made a good living, and was
a wonderful father and husband.
 And it finally occurred me just how lucky I'd been.

9. When I pulled the trigger I did not hear the bang or

feel the kick–one never does when a shot goes
home–but I heard the devilish roar of glee that went
up from the crowd. In that instant, in too short a
time, one would have thought, even for the bullet to
get there, a mysterious, terrible change had come
over the elephant. He neither stirred nor fell, but
every line of his body had altered. He looked
suddenly stricken, shrunken, immensely old, as
though the frightful impact of the bullet had
paralysed him without knocking him down. At last,
after what seemed a long time–it might have been
five seconds, I dare say–he sagged flabbily to his
knees. His mouth slobbered. An enormous senility
seemed to have settled upon him. One could have
imagined him thousands of years old. I fired again
into the same spot. At the second shot he did not
collapse but climbed with desperate slowness to his
feet and stood weakly upright, with legs sagging and
head drooping. I fired a third time. That was the shot
that did for him. You could see the agony of it jolt his
whole body and knock the last remnant of strength
from his legs. But in falling he seemed for a moment
to rise, for as his hind legs collapsed beneath him he
seemed to tower upward like a huge rock toppling,
his trunk reaching skyward like a tree. He trumpeted,
for the first and only time. And then down he came,
his belly towards me, with a crash that seemed to
shake the ground even where I lay.
10. The thick, burnt scent of roasted coffee tickled the
tip of my nose just seconds before the old, faithful
alarm blared a distorted top-forty through its tiny top
speaker. Wiping away the grit of last night's sleep,
the starch white sunlight blinded me momentarily as
I slung my arm like an elephant trunk along the top
of the alarm, searching for the snooze button. While
stretching hands and feet to the four posts of my
bed, my eyes opened after several watery blinks. I
crawled out of the comforter, edging awkwardly like
a butterfly from a cocoon, swinging my legs over the
side of the bed. The dusty pebbles on the chilled,
wood floor sent ripples spiraling from my ankles to
the nape of my neck when my feet hit the floor.
Grabbing the apricot, terri-cloth robe, recently
bathed in fabric softener and October wind, I knotted
it tightly at my waist like a prestigious coat of armor
and headed downstairs to battle the morning.

When I was little, I loved visiting my relatives.

Although I was a country girl, I didn't have any
brothers or sisters that were close to my age, nor did
my parents enjoy some of the outdoor events that
my extended family did. But my aunts and uncles in
Manchester, Tennessee, were always doing
something fun, especially my Uncle George. Uncle
George loved to laugh and he loved to fish and he
loved me.

Uncle George and I would head out before it got

light. The trek to the pond was always exciting. The
earth smelled fresh and new, promising warmth, and
as the birds awoke, they'd tentatively practice the
prologues to their songs. We'd walk past the apple
trees, and I could smell the sharpness of the rotten
fruit that had dropped to the ground. Occasionally,
 I'd slip on a peel, so I learned to be careful not to run
too quickly. We'd walk past the water troughs where
the tadpoles were busy wiggling their way to
froghood and pick up...
Descriptive Essay about the Beach
1. Descriptive Essay

On a hot summer day, the only good place to go is to

the lake. You would go out to the lake to enjoy the
water, the sun, the activities that are happening, or
just to be with family and friends.
When you're at the lake, there are some very distinct
smells. The hickey smell of campfire smoke always
lets you know that there are marshmallows and
hotdogs being roasted. You'll never want to touch
your hair from putting your fingers on the sticky
marshmallow; to me it's just crazy glue. But you can
always enjoy the sweet coconut smell of sun tanning
lotion that people put on themselves while they lay
into the sun to basically "cook."
If you're looking for a quiet relaxation at the lake, I
don't think that will work out too well. The lake is
always really loud throughout the day. You can hear
the loud motors of the boat and the waves of the
water as the boat come crashing through. You'll
definitely be able to hear the laughter and the
excitement of the kids as they splash around in the
lake.
While you're at the lake you can always get involved
in some fun activities, if you aren't able to relax. You
can go fishing, if you like touching the slimy scales of
the fish and the soft touch of the cold water. Just
make sure you don't get the rough, coarse sand in
your shorts because you won't like that too much.
 Overall the lake is lots of fun to go to if you just
wants to get away from the busy, smelly city that
you live in. If you are there early enough, for
instance if you were camping out in the rocky
wilderness you will be able to see a beautiful, bright
sunrise and if you enjoy staying out on the beach
until the evening, I'm sure you can catch a calming
and loving sunset. After the sun has gone down for
the night, you can lay in the sand and stare up at the
amazing, twinkling stars.

2. When I read the assignment I immediately thought

to myself how easy it was going to be but it was not
something I was looking forward to doing. So there I
was sitting in the HUB cafeteria browsing around the
cafeteria for an interesting person to describe. So
many people were catching my eye but I was having
a hard time finding someone who really captured my
attention. I was about to give up and just go another
route for finding a person to describe, when a black
middle aged woman caught my attention. I have
seen her couple of times before around campus. I
can’t exactly say what drew me to her but I presume
that some people just possess the quality to draw
people in with no effort put forth by them. She
looked to be around 50 years old, but she looked
very nice for her age. She had a short sheek haircut
and some of the prettiest gray hair I’ve ever seen.
She had on very little makeup and yet her skin was
still flawless. Her designer frames gave her face a
classy touch. Her nails were well taken care of and
neatly polished in a dark red shade. It surprised me
that I did not see a wedding ring though. It made me
wonder if she was recently divorced and was going
 back to school because that was something she put
on the back burner once she got married and had
children, like so many women. Or maybe she
remained a single mom and know that her kids were
grown she finally had the time to do something for
herself. Or maybe I had it all wrong I chuckled to
myself, after all she could be a lesbian. I begin to
wonder if she noticed me looking at her because we
had caught eye contact a couple of times. I decided
to hurry up and finish this description before this
lady thought I was a psycho or something.
She was wearing simple black squirt suit, but I
could tell it was an expensive one by the quality of it.
She had on simple black heels to match it and a
midsized coach purse. She had a slim figure and her
outfit accentuated her body nice....
3. In a gigantic planet, there was an entirely massive
and superb garden. While I was watching TV in my
chair man was yelling the big news, he yelled:
“A nasty tree is killing people!” I got up of my chair
very scared and passed through the living and went
running to the kitchen to look for a gun with
tranquilizers darts for trees. I went to the hot roof of
my house and prepared to shooted the tree, when
the hard air hit my face I screamed because that
disgusting tree was coming to kill me. The tree was
dashing to me until me shooted it I thought all had
finished, but the tree started picking up and coming
where I was. After this, the bad tree started
destroying the house beside mine. It was terrorific. I
rushed, and start making fantastic jumps between
the roofs of the houses, to escape from the tree,
meanwhile I saw the people of my neighbourhood
coming with axes to kill the ugly tree. When they
 went to kill it, the tree ate them before they could
touch a leaf of that nasty tree. I saw people dying,
and I got very furious, I hardy could hold my gun
because I was hurted, recharge it with 5 darts and
started shooting the enormous plant, the tree started
falling to the floor, until it died, everybody was happy
because all had finished, and they gave presents to
me because of my action.
We were all very happy and we all celebrated with a
party in my house.
4. McDonalds :
It is a place that some love like a humongous pizza
on a Saturday night after a movie, and some loath like
the Federal Emergency Management Agency's
handling of the hurricane Katrina disaster. It is a place
that can make any child smile when he or she hears
that they can play in the play land. It is also a place
that can make an employee swear when he learns
that he has to cook the meat for the 12 double cheese
burgers (which is like 24 pieces of meat) for the family
of that kid in the play land.. If you go to this place to
much you may become as fat as the fat Albert and a
sumo wrestler combined.

McDonalds is a place that no one would like to work

at, because first of all the back rooms either smell like
garbage or moldy cheese that has been aging in a
trashcan for a year and a half. Second of all no would
like to work here because the number of flies in the
restaurant at any time of the day is equal to that of the
number of grains of sand on a beach. The last reason
that I will mention that no one would want to work at
there is that the uniforms literally smell like the play
land because they reuse the uniforms and when they
 are not being used by an employee they are stored on
they floor behind the mesh fence under the play land
and no matter what you do you cannot get that smell
out.

Being a customer at McDonalds is a lot better than

being an employee, because first of all you don't half to
stay there for many hours at a time, and second of all
most of the time you do not realize how many hours
the food may have been sitting in the warmers before
you got there. McDonalds isn't all bad though
especially if you like junk food which everyone at some
point in time in their lives has a craving for. Like many
fast food joints McDonalds has a monumentally large
selection of foods to choose from most of which are
sandwiches. Of course there is the standard hamburger
and cheeseburger which are made with a regular bun,
meat, ketchup...
Description of a Thunderstorm
1. In the tropics we often have thunderstorms. They do
not last very long, perhaps for an hour; but they can
cause havoc during that short time.

One evening, at about 6 o’clock, I was sitting in front

of my house just relaxing and doing nothing in
particular. There were some white clouds blocking
the blue sky. There was no hint of rain. It was just a
pleasant warm evening, which was very normal.

Then I heard a distant rumble of thunder. It was so

faint that I thought I might have imagined it.
Gradually the rumbling became more distinct. I
looked towards the sky and still could not see any
hint of rain. White clouds still dominate the sky.
 The rumbling grew louder and louder. Very quickly
the eastern sky turned black. The speed at which the
black clouds appeared astonished me. In a few
minutes, I could feel cool wind blowing from the
blackened sky. In another few minutes, the whole
sky was engulfed by black swirling clouds. The wind
increased in intensity. I could see the trees bent
precariously to one side as though they were going
to fall over or get blown away like feathers.

Suddenly I heard a very loud roar above the

rumbling of thunder and the howling of wind. The
roar became louder and louder. It sounded like a
gigantic train approaching though it certainly was
not one. The sound was quite unsettling. I looked in
the direction of the roar and saw a white curtain of
approaching rain.

Next second it was upon us. The corrugated iron roof

of my house rattled shakily as the pouring rain
crashed down upon it. I ran into the house. The
storm was in full swing.

Flashes of lightning lit up the darkened sky followed

by cracks of thunder as though in reply. Some
flashes of lightning came dangerously close to our
house. The following cracks of thunder were
immediate and deafening. I saw my father utter a
silent prayer. My kid sister had her palms against her
ears while safely enclosed in my mother’s arms.

The fury of the storm was incredible. I looked...

Descriptive Essay of Tower Room
1. There might not be a more soothing room to relax
and think in than the fourth floor tower room in
Blount hall. The walls are painted with a calm shade
of yellow and the floors covered in soft brown and
tan carpet. The lights are never too bright, but they
are also never too dim. It is similar to when the sun
sets and light shines through an evening cloud. This
is created by a three piece hanging light, dangling on
a twenty foot pole, reaching all the way to the tower
ceiling. The quaint furniture in the tower room
includes small crimson couches that can put a
person to sleep by just spending a few moments on
them, round wooden tables that can be used for
homework, and end tables that have a vintage,
homemade look to them.
The room itself, shaped like a tower that one would
assume came off of a castle, is a marvel site. It is
accentuated with two large sets of windows, each
with six smaller windows, and a top that is shaped
like a king's crown. Each window is so large it almost
takes up the entire wall. The windows are on
adjacent walls, creating a feeling as if one was in
medieval times, in a Camelot tower.
The view out of these windows is a wonderful one.
New and upcoming buildings can be viewed, as well
as older buildings that have been standing since
before I was born. Students walking to and from
class, talking on their cellular phones, and getting in
and out of their vehicles are a common site.
On a clear night, all the stars in the Milky Way can be
seen from these windows. It is a scene that
everyone should be able to enjoy. It looks as if they
were being viewed from space, instead of down here
on Earth. The peace and quiet of the room is so
 relaxing that a pen drop can be heard. Your thoughts
will float around the room like clouds over a deserted
valley. A person could forget about all of their
problems and worries and just enjoy some time
alone in the tower room
Description of a Bedroom
1. Description of a Bedroom

Opening the door and walking in, you strike a gray

plastic garbage can with your foot. You then look up
to see a waterbed, covered in blankets, across the
room. The carpet is grayish; with some sort of swirl
design in it. Next to the garbage can is a white
plastic clothes basket. This is
jammed tight between the garbage can and the
desk, which sits near the corner. The tops of the
desk are white, but the supports are black. School
books cover the bottom shelf, while the next two
have miscellaneous items on them. On the top shelf,
an encased basketball sits. It's an Olympic ball
dipped in gold. Next to the ball, hanging on the gray,
black, and white marble-like painted walls, is a
tournament bracket for last year's College Basketball
Championship. Under the bracket is the light
switch, and next to it is a black
light. The next wall is bare, but in the corner, where
the third wall meets it, there are six shelves. Those
shelves have many different types of elephants. One
of the shelves has a second black light on it. The
shelves meet a window, which is covered by some
white blinds. At the end of the waterbed, on the final
wall, there is some electronic equipment on more
shelving. There is a variety of equipment, everything
 from
games to a television. Everything on the shelves is in
good condition. Following this wall is a second light
switch for the closet. The closet has no doors on it,
but is full of clothes. After the closet comes the
door, in which you enter, and you exit.

2. As I was sitting outside the local mini mall, I

discovered that you can tell more about a person
than you realize. My example is of a man I saw
going into the mall. Without using any personal
knowledge, I found I could place him with a few well-
placed ideas and personal observations.

First, I saw the limp. Though he shuffled his feet, I

saw the wincing way his face looked as he walked.
This led me to deduce the injury was recent. After
seeing the limp, I saw a part of a bandage sticking
out of his pant leg. This led me to believe that the
injury was also low on the leg, possibly on the ankle.
If the injury was not on the ankle, it would have to
be on the shin. The bandage was too low to be
anywhere else.

When he opened the door to enter the mall, I saw

the cigar hanging out the side of his mouth. Since it
was unlit, I gathered he was trying to quit or he was
chewing on it. In either case, he had a
disreputable look because of it.

His five o’clock shadow would never be gone. After

a fresh shave, he would still look like he needed one.
The blue-black hue of his beard would always give
 that appearance. It also appeared that you could
strike a match on it. While taking a second look at
his five o’clock shadow, I realized that his facial hair
partially covered a small scar.

He had tattoos on both of his arms. They were a

matched set of dragons that curled around his arms
ending at his wrists where the tails rested. The
tongues of the dragons ended on either side of his
neck. Due to the faded coloring of the ink, I judged
the tattoos to be between 12-20 years old. From my
own tattoos, I recognized the Asian influence on his
body art.

While watching him enter the mall, I saw a sly look of

mischievousness, that spoke volumes about his
character, but the key point of his look was the “I am
going to steal your underwear, while you are wearing
them” grin. A look like that either gives a person
and air of self confidence or a cheap con...
Descriptive Essay Two Girls At
1. It was a busy Saturday afternoon at the Galleria at
Tyler, many different people walking in and out of
the large department stores and inside the interior of
the mall. However, the vast majority of people
walking among the mall were groups of young
teenage girls. The mall has become the major
hangout for teenagers, where both males and
females roam to show themselves off to people of
the opposite sex.
I noticed two girls at the food court, where they were
in line waiting to buy coffee from Starbucksne of
them, whom I shall call Subject One, was
approximately fourteen years old. She was wearing
 a white cotton tank top and a pair of denim shorts.
Her long, golden brown hair was tied in a tight
ponytail that cascaded down the middle of her back.
A pair of blue-framed sunglasses with highly
reflective lenses rested delicately on the top of her
head. Her blue eyes shined brightly as she looked
around the mall, looking for anyone she might
recognize. Her chest thrust itself out of her tank
top, wanting to burst out of the thin fabric of her
small tank top. Her skin was soft and delicate,
obviously pampered by lotions and cremes, most
likely bought at “Bed, Bath, and Beyond.” The lower
edge of her denim shorts stopped barely below her
buttocks, which also seemed to want to burst out of
the constricting garment confining it. A pair of
shapely, tanned by days bathing in the sun,
extended from her denim shorts, seeming to stretch
forever before meeting the ground. Her feet were
encased in socks and a pair of white sneakers, so
clean they seemed new. This girl was extremely
attractive, and she her attire suggested she was
ready to show her attractiveness to the teenage
males also roaming the mall.
The second female, whom I shall call Subject Two,
was dressed much more conservatively. Subject
Two wore a pale-blue t-shirt and a pair of tight denim
jeans. She appeared to be approximately fifteen
years old. Her short brown hair reached barely...
Descriptive Essay
1. The vivid memory of the Nebraska plains never
leaves me. I can return to this place at any
moment. I close my eyes and take a deep breath.
My lungs are filled with the clean and pure air, a
welcome change from the thick hazy air of the
outside world. I am alone with only my thoughts
and emotions to keep me company. The summer
breeze, warm upon my face is filled with the sweet
smell of the tall billowing grass.
Soft green hills surround me. I am not certain where
they begin or where they end. Far into the distance
I can see another farmhouse. Only an occasional
windmill disrupts the scenery.
Clusters of bright yellow sunflowers are growing
amidst the green prairie grass. I pick a sunflower
and take pleasure in its sweet fragrance. I pull each
soft petal off and toss it into the wind. Puffs of white
cotton from a cottonwood tree float slowly past me.
As I walk, the thick blades of green prairie grass
tickle my legs. Huge brown grasshoppers jump left
and right to escape my path. Except for the
occasional chirping of a meadowlark, it is so quiet I
feel as though the world exists only here and I am
the only person allowed to witness this beautiful
portrait of nature.
Minutes turn into hours and the sun begins to sink
below the horizon. The sky is splashed with yellow,
gold and orange. Crickets begin to sing their
evening song. I climb a large hill and when I look
down, a small stream beckons me. As I get closer I
can hear the bubbling sound as it flows over the
rocks beneath surface. I gather some smooth cool
rocks from the bottom of the stream as keepsakes.
When I look into the grayish blue water, I see a
reflection of a small child. I reach down and touch
the cold smooth surface and the ripples distort it.
When I look down again I see the image of grown
woman.
I am in awe of the simple beauty around me. The
 complications of everyday life seem so far away. A
sense of calm envelops me. This is the most
beautiful portrait God...
2. Descriptive Essay - The Dentist's Office
The phone rings and I answer, "Thank you for calling
Business Systems this is Mandy how I can help you?" The
voice on the other end asks for Amanda and I reply, "This
is she". The voice says she is calling to remind me of my
4:00 PM dental appointment. I sigh and tell her I will be
there.

I enter the building and walk over to the elevator; I push

the up button and patiently wait. The elevator door
promptly opens and I get in. I push the button with a two
on it and the doors close, up I go. Once on the second
floor I exit the elevator and immediately I can smell the
mixture of wintergreen flavored tooth paste and bleach
out in the hall even before I go into Dr. Adelson's office.
As soon as I open the outer door, the blast of cool air
from the air conditioner hits me in the face making me
shiver all over. I walk in and add my name to the list on
the sign in sheet. Harriet, the gray hared women behind
the white frosted glass slide window, sees me and lets
me know the doctor will be ready in a minute. While I
wait for the dental assistant in her crisp white uniform to
call out my name, I look at the fish in the large blue tank
in the corner of the room. The sleek fish dart about
playing hide and seek with the plastic mermaid at the
bottom of the tank while tiny silver bubbles slip to the top
of the tank's surface and break silently while I wait my
turn. Then I turn and look to see a photo album sitting on
a coffee table. I pick it up only to see pictures of decaying
teeth and gums. I quickly close the book and shudder at
the thought as I roll my tongue over my teeth and thank
God they are all there. The nurse calls my name and I
enter the inner office and sit in the brown leather chair
looking at all the shiny stainless steel equipment. As I sit
down the bright overhead light momentarily blinds me; I
feel like a deer about to meet his death then I realize, it's
my turn.
Descriptive Essay: Between Old Friends
Between Old Friends

I felt the waxy goo before I saw it. Squinting, for a better
look, I carefully separated the hair that grew from his
temples, ordinarily bristling white, but now suspiciously
black and tarry. Interrupting my cutting, I ventured,
"Doug, what's all over your hair?" As I awaited his reply,
I contemplated my long professional relationship with the
man seated before me. I cut hair and work with
hairpieces for a living. I design, install, and maintain
them for fees far below those of large companies whose
lavish infomercials are viewable following David
Letterman's show. Doug was not typical of my clients.
He favored a vanity I could not understand and fed it as
cheaply as possible. His obsessive search for his lost
youth was equaled only by the stinginess of his wallet. I
had taken care of his hair needs for ten years since he
was in his early forties, and not once had he tipped me or
acknowledged his age. My patience with him ran thin,
but I was about to experience something that would help
my own dilemma of age and vanity regarding my life and
my profession.
Interrupting my reverie, I heard him mutter, "Its
mascara." He kept glancing sideways at his wife who
currently smelled of methane gas and sported a plastic
bag on her head brimming with perm rods. "It's
mascara," he repeated, "You know, for the gray..." I
continued cutting,
Cornish, p. 2
just shaking my head. Doug was the only client to whom
I continually gave hairpieces near cost. He always
looked as though the mangy matted mess upon his
crown were some form of
exotic roadkill. I rued the day his peers at the San Diego
Courthouse might ask the name of his stylist. I
practically gave him new pieces to wear so the look of my
work would improve. "Doug, I have known you more
than ten years." I stated the obvious and began my
never ending discourse regarding his problems with
growing older, his lousy self-image, as well as the horrible
state of his...
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Descriptive- Rich descriptive words that put a

picture of a person, place, or an object in a readers mind.
When a person is writing a descriptive piece, there should
be very detailed observations, write what you see in your
mind. All parts should be equal. The more detail the
better the story. You should start at one point and move
in one direction as not to confuse the audience. Such as
clock wise, left to right, top to bottom. The reader should
be able to envision the picture that you had in your mind
as the writer.

Transitional Expressions-
Next to, near, close, far, up, down, between, above,
below, left, right, center, toward, away.
- All of these are used when writing a descriptive
paragraph.

An example: I think the way a person dresses can really

explain who they are and what they are about.

• Here are some examples of a descriptive paragraph:

Standing on his hind legs, this rare andalucian stallion is

fearless. His ears are turned back while his noble looking
head is held high. His all black coat glistens in the late
afternoon sun. His face displays a strong confidence with
his nostrils flared, his veins bulging from his cheek bones,
and his fiery black eyes burning holes into the souls of
those who stare into them. His neck muscles are tensed
and thickened with adrenalin. His black main is thrown
into the wind like a flag rippling in the winds of a tornado.
His muscular front legs are brought up to his chest
displaying his flashing gray hooves that could crush a
man's scull with one blow. His backbone and underbelly
are held almost straight up and his hind quarters are
tensed. His back legs are spread apart for balance. His
back hooves are pressed into the earth; therefore, his
hooves cause deep gouges from the weight of his body
on the soil. His black tail is held straight down and every
once in a while a burst of wind catches it and then it
floats down back into place like an elegant piece of silk
falling from the sky. His bravery and strength are what
made his breed prized as a warhorse.
~© Jamell Wilson, 2005~
This is a really good descriptive paragraph. It is very well
developed, stays on the topic, and has some very
descriptive words that happen throughout the paragraph.
This is something that keeps the reader wanting to read
more and more.

Snap Shot
Back in 1999 this fearless athlete posed in this football
picture. In the far distance below the cloudless sky stands
an off-white stadium. Embedded in the center is large,
cracked, blue, painted, letters that spell out BISON.
Beneath the old stadium are rows of worn-out bleachers
which are completely empty. Up in front stands the
competitor down on one knee. As you observe more, the
sport player is wearing a blue Bison jersey sporting the
number 60. To the left above the freshly trimmed green
grass that engulfs this player’s figure lays a football. In
the center of the picture, you see her pale white face and
dark brown eyes. Around these features you cannot help
but notice the bronzed hair; which appears to be pulled
back around this slender face. Her stern look shows how
proud she is; nonetheless, all the confidence she carries
on her padded up shoulders. This unique woman is not
only elegant and brave; she is my sister, Margaret Eva
Hoyt.
~© Kayla Marie Anfinsen, 2005~

The Longest Race

As Chad Reed pulled into the pits, you could tell just by
looking at him that this had been a grueling race. His dirt
bike was plastered with so much brown, wet, sticky mud
that you couldn’t even read the number plates. His boots,
resting comfortably on the foot pegs, were a mess of
muddy brown dirt, bright white plastic and black buckles.
His riding pants were soaked and covered with mud on
the front, while the back remained a brilliant white and
blue. His chest protector seemed to have kept most of
the mud off of his blue and white jersey, although his
sleeves had turned the same swampy brown color as his
bike. His goggles hung looped over the handlebars of his
bike, dripping the ooze it had saved from Chad’s eyes.
His helmet, still on his head, was a greasy smeary brown,
save for the thin line of white and blue where his goggle
strap had been. Although his body looked beaten, his
eyes, peering through the helmet, seemed relaxed and
happy. He had just won a very long and very tiring race.
~© 2005 Kristian Anderson~

The Meteor Show

The much advertised meteor show this summer was a
memory to behold. The air was crisp and cool. I did not
even feel a hint of a breeze on my skin as I lie on my
back in the darkness. The warm temperature of the water
against the cooler air created a drifting airy fog that
whispered over the lake. Darkness enveloped the sky as
only a slight curve of the moon shone in the night;
consequently, this made the perfect stage for the
breathtaking view of twinkling stars. In the still of the
night many galaxies glittered from the depths of the sky
as I felt hypnotically drawn into the mesmerizing show
above me. Broad irregular bands of light from the Milky
Way stretched across the sky while the big and little
dipper shined brightly. As predicted, the meteor show
began with various sized meteors cascading to the
earth's atmosphere about every fifteen to thirty seconds.
Shots of light, followed by orange and white mist,
describe the presence of the meteors. The panoramic
view made it possible to witness several meteors at a
time while marveling at each one. An event like this may
only happen once in a lifetime, so I will cherish this
moment and it will remain as one of my fondest
memories.
~© 2005 Leslie Malsam~

The Hot Fudge Sundae

In front of me on the table sat a beautiful pure white
bowl, simplistic in design, hiding a decadent surprise
inside. In the bowl was hidden something that was not so
pure, however, the irresistible indulgence was worth
every calorie that I knew it contained. As I looked inside I
saw on the bottom of the bowl a hot, tender brownie
loaded with macadamia nuts. I knew from past
experience that the nuts had a creamy and smooth
texture, almost like white chocolate. On top of the
brownie were two firmly packed scoops of ice cream,
laying side by side, each one a different flavor? The
scoop on the right was a rich vanilla, flecked with dark
specks of vanilla bean. The scoop on the left was a dark,
smooth, bittersweet chocolate. The scoops were just
starting to melt tiny rivers of melted cream down the
sides of the hot brownie, pooling on the bottom of the
pure white bowl. These scoops of ice cream were draped
with a sumptuous, rich, hot fudge sauce. Topping the
luscious sauce was an ample dollop of whipped cream
that was in perfect contrast to the dense, almost too rich
dessert below. The whipped cream was topped with a
shower of chocolate sprinkles and finely chopped
walnuts. What finally completed this wonderful creation
was a perfect maraschino cherry, its red juice sending
tiny streams down the whole mountain of dessert delight.
The contrast of colors, textures and flavors in this dessert
appealed to every part of my senses. I could not wait to
eat it.
~© 2005 Kelly Cofske~

This is a great descriptive paragraph because of the not

so ordinary words used to describe each and every little
thing that is in this hot fudge sundae. The way that it's all
put together and compared to a mountain really helps put
the image into your own mind. This paragraph is also
focused on just one topic. After reading this I was craving
hot fudge Sunday. So good job Kelly! ~© 2005 Ashleigh
Tranmer~

Here is my Descriptive paragraph: I started My

description with the most obvious, while at the same time
working my way down from head to toe. His least obvious
traits (personality) are at the end.

My Son Joshua
My eight year old son, Joshua, stands out in a crowd of
children because of his distinctive appearance and gentle
manner. The first thing I notice when I look at him is his
size. He stands at shoulder height next to me; indeed, he
is a head taller than other children his age, and is
definitely stronger. His weight is a hefty 113 pounds;
without a doubt, he weighs forty pounds more than other
children in his grade level. Recently, my husband signed
him up for flag football, where he was told: “It is good
things the children aren’t playing tackle football, because
he might inadvertently hurt the other kids.” Also
remarkable is his red hair; it is thick, coarse to touch, and
styled in an old-fashioned boy cut. Hardly a person can
pass Joshua without rubbing his head for good luck, and
saying “Where’d ya get that hair?” Joshua’s chubby face
is fair, with freckles lightly dotting his exceptionally
boyish features. His eyes are pale blue, and his eyebrows
blond; in fact, white, in contrast with his red hair. His lips
are full and somewhat feminine, and his newly-grown
permanent teeth, which appear large alongside his
remaining baby teeth, have a wide gap. His shoulders are
broad, his chest juts out, and his belly is plump. His
forearms are bulky, and will someday be powerful, yet his
wrists retain the same creases he has had since he was a
ten pound newborn. When we hold hands, his hands feel
nearly as large as mine, and are unexpectedly soft. His
legs are sturdy and strong, and his knees are covered
with fresh scrapes and purple bruises, received while
skateboarding and biking. His ankles are also solid;
consequently, he can’t wear boots. His feet are size 6 and
wide; therefore, too wide for slip-on tennis shoes. Despite
his appearance, Joshua is unexpectedly sensitive and
caring; in fact, he still likes to sit on my lap, an awkward
feat for me. He likes to open doors for me, tend his little
brother, and help me grocery shop. From head to toe he
is a contradiction; although he is only eight years old, he
is big and strong, while loving and gentle, and that
makes him stand out from other children, at least in my
eyes.
~© 2005 Kelly Byron~

Honeymoon
My wife and I honeymooned in Playa Del Carmen, Mexico;
while there, we visited the ruins of Tulum. At the
entrance of the ruins, large palm frond trees stand lush
and tall with wild life resting on its branches. In the
middle of this miniature rain forest is a dirt path leading
towards a hand built stone wall ten feet tall. While
walking through the passage built in the wall, on the
right, at the top of the wall sat a large, brown and green
hued iguana. Just past this great wall of protection is a
field of green grass overlooking the ruins? To the left is a
small court yard bordered by a stone wall leading to the
aqua blue, warm ocean a few hundred yards away. In a
corner section of this cramped courtyard, is a fresh water
hole in a cave like crevice. As you walk the acres upon
acres of grass, the sounds of chirping and squawking
birds permeate the air. Vibrant colored plants and
iguanas of all sizes give you an idea of life as it was two
thousand years ago. Enormous square and rectangular
stones capture the eye for the beauty they hold both
outside and the history made inside. Steep staircases rise
from the ground to ascend to the top of these world
treasures; in fact, a few of these temples were built atop
the cliffs of the Yucatan Peninsula. The beach below is
blinding white, soft coral sand, crushed to a fine powder
by swift ocean currents.
~© 2005 Chad Lewis~

December Beach Days in Hawaii

A beach in Hawaii on a December day is like a day at a
lake in mid August. The beach smells fresh, almost like a
new ocean breeze air freshener. The sand is hot and
looks like gold blended in with little white specks; it
sparkles like the water running off the swimmers back
and feels like walking on coals from a burning grill. Not
far from the shore, you can see the coral sitting still in
the wild and shallow water. Turtles drift in to see all the
people. The palm trees sway in the air from the forceful
wind. In a distance, a house is beautifully placed right by
the water, so it can look across the ocean each and every
day. People are laughing and playing in the burning sand,
and others are relaxing on the beach bronzing their skin
while enjoying the bright rays of light coming from the
sun. From a far distance the ocean is a deep navy blue;
waves come in like a bulldozer from all the wind. At night
everything is still. Waves are still coming in but not as
hard, while the beach is cleared from all the people. All
you can hear is the waves of the ocean and the light
breeze coming from the giant palm trees. The beach is a
spectacular place. Leaving it is excruciating and difficult
to do.
~© 2005 Ashleigh Tranmer~

The Old Car

The old car slowly chugged down the street like the
caboose of a steam engine train. The car goes up the hill
it goes Ka boom, kachunk. The car is old and weathered
with rust covering the entire body like cancer consuming
its victim. Wheels and tires wobble like a drunken bum on
his way home from the bar. Hub caps are gone along with
all the mirrors and extras on the car. Black smoke flows
out the rotten tail pipes like the smoke out of an old cob
pipe. The local junk yard had seen better cars than this.
The interior was a dusty brown with holes covering
almost every square inch of the seat covers. The ceiling
was hanging down and the rust had eaten through the
roof like a Billy goat through a tin can. This old car is my
old car and it is as faithful as a good old dog by always
starting and getting me from where I need to go.
~© Jace Oeleis 2005~
Best Friends Forever
As a child at the age of two, my sister and I had pictures
taken together. My sister and I are ten months and three
weeks apart. In this special family picture was look
identical. Our big, dark blue and brown eyes and smile
resemble two calm little girls, enjoying the moment with
peaceful smiles on our faces. In our long, dark red and
blue dresses we sit straight up in front of a warn red
fireplace surrounded by green plants. Our dark brown,
wavy hair even matched. We both had baby pink bows
off to the side of our heads that resemble a blooming
flower. Growing up our family consisted of our father, my
sister, and I. My sister and I have both been there for
each other through “the thick and the thin.” My
photograph puff my sister and reveals how close we are
in age and through this paragraph it also reveals how
close we are when it comes to love and friendship.
~(c) Amy Neill 2005~

Glenveagh Sunset
When the upper limb of the sun disappears below the
horizon the brilliance of Mother Nature becomes
apparent. On my left across the lake low-lying hills crawl
upward across the horizon. In front of me covered by a
few trees, is a lone secluded island. It looks as if it were a
boat, attempting to escape to tranquil waters. On my
right the hills gradually turn to mountains. A tall and
slender Lodge Pole Pine minutely conceals them. Her
finger-like branches delicately reach down toward the
lake, trying to touch her own reflection. High above me,
moisture laden clouds span out over the mountain tops,
resembling a magenta colored quilt. In front of me, a
broadening division in the clouds crests with a final effort
to avoid succumbing to the shroud of night. The ever
present island balances upon the waters, reflecting a
perfect vision of its unblemished counterpart. It is a
mirrored understatement of nature's true beauty.