Biography of Rose Wilder
I lived in Atlanta for nine years before moving to the Middle East because of my family's work. Don't worry, it's a (relatively) safe country. Because of this move, I travel a lot. My family has been to places in the Middle East such as the UAE and Jordan. We have also been to European countries like Switzerland and Italy. We live by the seaside- not really a big plus here because of the pollution. I live with my parents and younger brother. I enjoy writing novels, though I have none published, and drawing. I play the piano and usually write poetry on the spur of the moment. Robert Frost is one of my favorite poets. I love animals! Although I lived with several dogs and a cat for a while, I currently have no pets. I would love to help animals in any way, especially where I live now, where they are treated horribly.
Rose Wilder's Works:
I have no published books, but I have written and am revising five books about warrior cats, as well as a novel about a dragon trainer. I am in the process of writing a fiction book about wolves. I have also written many short stories.
Rose Wilder Poems
The fog shrouds everything with its hazy veil. It broods low over the worried waves- So low that sea and sky are the same. The trees tremble in the tiny breath of breeze,
God created, this I know; All creation shows it's so. All night long from dark `till light All the heavens tell His might!
Ruth And Naomi
Ruth and Naomi were good friends And this Ruth quickly proved. They say Naomi lost her sons, Besides her husband, too.
The turquoise ocean, tipped with cold white foam, Plashes, dashes, splashes, crashes Against the unrelenting wall. Ruffled ed and maddened by the teasing breeze,
Every day, I come to worship. Every day, I come to stand before You, Lord. Every day, I live my life in praise of You, In praise of You!
Waves Never Die
The blue-green wave rears up, Met by the oncoming foamy surge. They crash and break together with a spray of white. The wave bounds forward,
Orange sky. Winds high Blow across. Trees toss.
Song Of The Wolves
Hunters of the Dusk, Shadows of the Night, Afraid of neither fox nor bear, With silver fang we fight.
The fog shrouds everything with its hazy veil.
It broods low over the worried waves-
So low that sea and sky are the same.
The trees tremble in the tiny breath of breeze,
Their cold gray veils of mist undisturbed.
At last the returning sun pierces the shroud and drives away the fog;
The tattered shreds of mist are left to melt.