Everyone dies, but not everyone lives. -a customer at Kroger
Come here you big bowl of cinnamon applesauce. -Jeremy Moore
What's always popular isn't always right. What's always right isn't always popular. -Albert Einstein
He's my own personal space heater. -Amiracle Carter
I don't want to spend my life running/Scared of what we're becoming/It's never what they told ya'/I guess we're getting older./I don't want to spend my life waiting/Watching while we all keep changing/I guess we're getting older. -"Getting Older" by Green River Ordinance
Saturday, March 19, 2011
Random Impulse
Ruth fixes her hair in a long plait before picking up her baby girl. Her husband, Soloman, told her over dinner that he had something to tell her and the others today. As she goes to wake up her other children, she wonders what it come be. She opens the door to her oldest daughter's room.
"Truly, honey, can you help me with the kids. Your father has something he needs to discuss with Mary, Sarah, and myself."
"Sure mother. Is anyone else up yet?"
"I think I heard Matthew and Timothy in their room, and I saw Rachel and Jessica. I do not think Elizabeth or Mark is awake yet, and here is Amanda."
"Alright, I will get them ready," Truly states ask she takes Amanda in her arms.
Ruth walks back down the hall through the kitchen and into the common room. She sits on the couch and waits. Mary is the next to walk in. She is wearing black pants and a red top with her hair curly around her face. Ruth knows she has to rush straight to work after their meeting. Sarah is the youngest of them all. She enters with her scrubs on ready to head to the doctor's office.
"What do you think Solomon needs to tell us," Sarah ask.
"Oh, I have an idea," Mary replies while Ruth nodded.
Mary and Ruth have went through this same experience before, only last time it was about Sarah.
Solomon comes in through Mary's sector of the house, and sits across from the couch, where all the women are sitting, and takes a breath.
"We have to add on to the house," says Solomon.
Mary and Ruth look at each other. It is just as they expected.
Sarah chimes in, "But why?"
A look of shocked came across her face as Solomon spoke.
"I have decided to to bring in someone else to the family, as my fourth wife."
......To Be Continued....
"Truly, honey, can you help me with the kids. Your father has something he needs to discuss with Mary, Sarah, and myself."
"Sure mother. Is anyone else up yet?"
"I think I heard Matthew and Timothy in their room, and I saw Rachel and Jessica. I do not think Elizabeth or Mark is awake yet, and here is Amanda."
"Alright, I will get them ready," Truly states ask she takes Amanda in her arms.
Ruth walks back down the hall through the kitchen and into the common room. She sits on the couch and waits. Mary is the next to walk in. She is wearing black pants and a red top with her hair curly around her face. Ruth knows she has to rush straight to work after their meeting. Sarah is the youngest of them all. She enters with her scrubs on ready to head to the doctor's office.
"What do you think Solomon needs to tell us," Sarah ask.
"Oh, I have an idea," Mary replies while Ruth nodded.
Mary and Ruth have went through this same experience before, only last time it was about Sarah.
Solomon comes in through Mary's sector of the house, and sits across from the couch, where all the women are sitting, and takes a breath.
"We have to add on to the house," says Solomon.
Mary and Ruth look at each other. It is just as they expected.
Sarah chimes in, "But why?"
A look of shocked came across her face as Solomon spoke.
"I have decided to to bring in someone else to the family, as my fourth wife."
......To Be Continued....
Sunday, March 13, 2011
Reading Response #5 (week of February 6)
The Russell Edson's poems are interesting. My favorite poems are "On The Eating Of Mice" and "Counting Sheep". The poem "On The Eating Of Mice" was intriguing. How can Edson write a poem about cooking and eating mice? The second part of the first stanza was graphic in a way, and the different ways of cooking mice. In these two poem, Edson showing that any subject matter can be written about in poetry.
Random Impulse #8 (week of February 6)
This is the first draft of this poem. It needs much revising.
Secret
Secret messages passed along,
In hopes our connection won't
Come to light. As we hide in
The dark. Our meeting tonight ends
With a word and a kiss.
You say to me that you care,
But as the chrome fades
Away under the green, I know
You are on your way,
Your way to see her.
'he is the one who can call
You hers. The girl who got
You first and is not forced
To be silent tomorrow. The
One who's similar to me.
What would happen if she
Knew? A letter, unsigned,
Left on her door. I wonder
If I could be a secret no more,
And be forever yours.
Secret
Secret messages passed along,
In hopes our connection won't
Come to light. As we hide in
The dark. Our meeting tonight ends
With a word and a kiss.
You say to me that you care,
But as the chrome fades
Away under the green, I know
You are on your way,
Your way to see her.
'he is the one who can call
You hers. The girl who got
You first and is not forced
To be silent tomorrow. The
One who's similar to me.
What would happen if she
Knew? A letter, unsigned,
Left on her door. I wonder
If I could be a secret no more,
And be forever yours.
Random Impulse #7 (week of February 6)
Yo! What's up?....Yeah, same here. So I'm going to finish....Yeah, him. So I said to Cody we wanted to do the contest and then Cody walks up and--What?....
Oh, I was talking to Cody Cody and....Yeah turtle Cody. Oh the reminds me. I saw a turtle on the side of the road this morning. Huh?....No, but--....Yeah, it was so cute....Yeah he is too. So is what's-his-name....You know he comes in the lounge, has the one blonde streak and rides....Yeah him--....That's his name. He was there last week and was playing Guitar Hero--What?....Oh, yeah. They were as always, but anyways he did really well. What?
....No, not good! Well!....Yeah, so back to the story....Yes about Cody Cody and....no they weren't the only ones there.--Hey my mom....yeah as always!....Yeah whatever loser.
Oh, I was talking to Cody Cody and....Yeah turtle Cody. Oh the reminds me. I saw a turtle on the side of the road this morning. Huh?....No, but--....Yeah, it was so cute....Yeah he is too. So is what's-his-name....You know he comes in the lounge, has the one blonde streak and rides....Yeah him--....That's his name. He was there last week and was playing Guitar Hero--What?....Oh, yeah. They were as always, but anyways he did really well. What?
....No, not good! Well!....Yeah, so back to the story....Yes about Cody Cody and....no they weren't the only ones there.--Hey my mom....yeah as always!....Yeah whatever loser.
Junkyard Quotes (week of February 6)
"I just told him my number! How can he get it wrong? Domino's is stupid." -Amiracle
"Which goes with baby?" -Lorelai & Rory Gilmore
"So I sa... *cough, cough* A FLY JUST FLEW DOWN MY THROAT" -classmate
"All my life I've been good, but now, oh oh oh, I'm thinking what the hell." -Avril Lavigne
"She's been Scarlett O'Hara for two hours. It's sickening." -Michel Gerard
"Which goes with baby?" -Lorelai & Rory Gilmore
"So I sa... *cough, cough* A FLY JUST FLEW DOWN MY THROAT" -classmate
"All my life I've been good, but now, oh oh oh, I'm thinking what the hell." -Avril Lavigne
"She's been Scarlett O'Hara for two hours. It's sickening." -Michel Gerard
Classmate Response #3 (week of January 30)
Katie Evans' poem called "I'm From the South" hits home with me. This poem describes what growing up in my hometown was like for me. I love how with each stanza gets deeper into her roots. The first stanza is the South and the last is about her family. I also like how each like starts with the word "where" describing each place.
Reading Response #4 (week of January 30)
"My Friend's Divorce" by Naomi Shihab Nye is an extremely emotional poem. The ways the lines are cut short making it seem abrupt. It makes you read it slowly and it lets every word sink in.
Reading Response #3 (week of January 30)
The poem "Dib Dab" by Paul Beatty help me greatly. His poem showed me that one word can be described in many different ways. Beatty described the word "smooth" twelve different ways. He uses voice to show how different one word can be skewed many different ways depending on the person. "Homage to My Hips" by Lucille Clifton uses the image of her hips to show confidence. Clifton uses voice to say what her hips "do". She makes her hips seem like it can do multiple things at once.
Saturday, March 12, 2011
Random Impulse #6 make-up (week of January 30)
This is the break-up poem from class. Now, it is nowhere need done and also, since I have never experienced a break up with a boyfriend, I decided to write about the break up of a friendship. Wow, I think that"s a record for how many times the word break up has been said in a sentence.
Break-Up Poem
Pulling into the spot next to the lightpole, that
still has the black smear on yellow paint
from where you backed up too far.
The store at the end shares your last
name. The memories sweep by
of trying on dresses,
taking pictures, and the
scavenger hunt in cosmetics.
The purple dinosaur,
that demands our silver coins,
still sits by, watching me.
How lonely and silent without
squeals coming from the
photo booth.
The workers inside your favorite store ask
why I'm alone.
The time of joking with the helpers
that know our names is
gone.
The drink machine, standing
like a bright red mountain,
softly mocks me.
It tells me to come
get my arm stuck inside again so
security can be called.
No longer can I see
the red stain
in front of the automatic doors
from you running into the glass while leaving
one weekend.
Break-Up Poem
Pulling into the spot next to the lightpole, that
still has the black smear on yellow paint
from where you backed up too far.
The store at the end shares your last
name. The memories sweep by
of trying on dresses,
taking pictures, and the
scavenger hunt in cosmetics.
The purple dinosaur,
that demands our silver coins,
still sits by, watching me.
How lonely and silent without
squeals coming from the
photo booth.
The workers inside your favorite store ask
why I'm alone.
The time of joking with the helpers
that know our names is
gone.
The drink machine, standing
like a bright red mountain,
softly mocks me.
It tells me to come
get my arm stuck inside again so
security can be called.
No longer can I see
the red stain
in front of the automatic doors
from you running into the glass while leaving
one weekend.
classmate response #2 make-up (week of January 23)
Today, I am responsed to Joshua West's Lincoln Park Poem.
Here goes nothing:
Rapunzel retrieved her hair,
But it was too late,
This man was a track and field superstar.
Scaling the vertical challenge with candor and ease,
Porthole unbolt with jewel thief precision.
A banshee, he was upon Rapunzel without little sound.
Her eventual shriek stifled by chloroform dreams from handkerchief-ed hands.
(Baby wails)
Panic-the castle erupts in light, the guard bell roars. Rapunzel’s brother busts through-too late.
No console for the prince. Gold exchanged, ransom paid, dark prevails.
First of all, I love how you made the sister Rapunzel. So, I enjoyed how in the first stanza, the lines get longer with each one, It makes me think of the intruder getting higher up the building's wall. The comparions like "jewel thief percision" and "track and field superstar" help me visualize the intruder. My favorite line is "Her eventual shriek stifled by chloroform dreams from handkerchief-ed hands." I think there needs to be more added at the end of this poem, the reader is kind of left hanging. Overall, excellent poem, just add a bit more to it and you have got it.
Reading Response #2 make-up (week of January 23)
Chapter two of Writing Poetry is called "form and structure". The question-and-answer section helped me out. I always have the feeling when writing poetry that it has to be about me and nobody can help. This section helped me realize I can write poetry about anything and anyone. I was in a jam of what to write a few weeks ago and I went back to this method, and asked my friend random questions and came out with an interesting poem. Now, if I am in a tight spot with no subject material, I have a method to use to help me discover an amazing subject.
classmate response #1 make-up (week of January 16)
Here is a poem by our very own Hannah Ross. Let's see what I think:
ScizoThe life she leads is not so normal
She goes by her day like others
Waiting for doctors to call
With results she dreads to hear
The psychologist wants her to come in
Another session of talking and unanswered questions
Instead she lies
She attends school like the others
Trying to concentrate on the professors lesson
But instead thew radio in her head erupts
Voices fill the space
Cluttering her already muddled mind
Sometimes its only a few voices
Easy to distinguish
Others its a cacophony, like an untuned radio
It becomes hard to concentrate
With all the conversations, singing, and bickering
Taking her attention over
They fall silent, as soon as they came
She attempts to keep herself busy
To keep the voices at bay
It only works for so long
The voices return, never ceasing their constant bombardment
There are only four
Four that are themselves, could be real
Three are females, one male
The boy can control her, take over her actions
It scares her, he only does it when he is angry
Which is not too often, luckily
The girls are nicer, they like to converse
And show me many things
It is always what she can only see
She knows it is not real
But it is hard not to fall into their reality
She is never truely alone
They come when they wish
Or when she is upset and lonely
They keep her company as she sleeps
Someday she will have a husband
What shall she do then?
Well, this poem is all over interesting. I really like the line "Others its a cacophony", but in stanzas three and four a radio is mentioned. Maybe try to use another image in at least one of those instants. Also in stanza four the phrase "untuned radio" is used, I think another word besides untuned would work better in this piece. The line I like the most is "The voices return, never ceasing their constant bombardment". In stanza six, it changes from third person to first person and back again. The way some stanzas contain more like and how some lines are longer than others fits this poem well. The poem is about not knowing when voices come and go, and the the way some things are longer is a visual to that concept.
ScizoThe life she leads is not so normal
She goes by her day like others
Waiting for doctors to call
With results she dreads to hear
The psychologist wants her to come in
Another session of talking and unanswered questions
Instead she lies
She attends school like the others
Trying to concentrate on the professors lesson
But instead thew radio in her head erupts
Voices fill the space
Cluttering her already muddled mind
Sometimes its only a few voices
Easy to distinguish
Others its a cacophony, like an untuned radio
It becomes hard to concentrate
With all the conversations, singing, and bickering
Taking her attention over
They fall silent, as soon as they came
She attempts to keep herself busy
To keep the voices at bay
It only works for so long
The voices return, never ceasing their constant bombardment
There are only four
Four that are themselves, could be real
Three are females, one male
The boy can control her, take over her actions
It scares her, he only does it when he is angry
Which is not too often, luckily
The girls are nicer, they like to converse
And show me many things
It is always what she can only see
She knows it is not real
But it is hard not to fall into their reality
She is never truely alone
They come when they wish
Or when she is upset and lonely
They keep her company as she sleeps
Someday she will have a husband
What shall she do then?
Well, this poem is all over interesting. I really like the line "Others its a cacophony", but in stanzas three and four a radio is mentioned. Maybe try to use another image in at least one of those instants. Also in stanza four the phrase "untuned radio" is used, I think another word besides untuned would work better in this piece. The line I like the most is "The voices return, never ceasing their constant bombardment". In stanza six, it changes from third person to first person and back again. The way some stanzas contain more like and how some lines are longer than others fits this poem well. The poem is about not knowing when voices come and go, and the the way some things are longer is a visual to that concept.
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