"I will change if Lester lives
Not mess him around just cause I own him.
He was nearly wiped away
But he had good luck and strong bones." (Finn)
A bargain with god or the universe...let my dog live and I will change. It seems to be a knee-jerk reaction to a bad situation. The owner of the dog is sincere and you can feel how much he loves him. When he says that he won't "...mess him around" because he is the dogs owner you, it's a sign that he appreciates his pup. There is a lot of love that comes through in these lines. That he has "...good luck and strong bones" shows that he has great admiration for Lester.
Tuesday, August 7, 2012
Tuesday, July 31, 2012
Quote Response Exercise - Carrie by Ted Kooser
Carrie
by Ted Kooser
"There's never an end to dust
and dusting," my aunt would say
as her rag, like a thunderhead,
scudded across the yellow oak
of her little house. There she lived
seventy years with a ball
of compulsion closed in her fist,
and an elbow that creaked and popped
like a branch in a storm. Now dust
is her hands and dust her heart.
There is never an end to it.
I love the symbol of dust being life and death. Life in that there is "...never and end to dust and dusting". Life goes on. Dust is life and you just keep living or dusting it. In death, "...dust is her hands and dust her heart". We are made of dust and to dust we return. It is a never ending cycle. "There is never an end to it."
by Ted Kooser
"There's never an end to dust
and dusting," my aunt would say
as her rag, like a thunderhead,
scudded across the yellow oak
of her little house. There she lived
seventy years with a ball
of compulsion closed in her fist,
and an elbow that creaked and popped
like a branch in a storm. Now dust
is her hands and dust her heart.
There is never an end to it.
I love the symbol of dust being life and death. Life in that there is "...never and end to dust and dusting". Life goes on. Dust is life and you just keep living or dusting it. In death, "...dust is her hands and dust her heart". We are made of dust and to dust we return. It is a never ending cycle. "There is never an end to it."
Monday, July 30, 2012
Poem Paraphrase - ABC by Robert Pinsky
Everyone dies. However, there are very few that die as happy people who radiate joy in their beings. We take our knowledge and love with us. There are some when they die that don't want to see it coming or be conscious of this stage of life. For them, medication dulls the senses, giving them the fastest relief. I would prefer to have this precious moment of death lucid. This new world I will be going to has so many possiblities. The sky is the limit.
ABC
by Robert Pinsky
Any body can die, evidently. Few
Go happily, irradiating joy,
Knowledge, love. many need oblivion, painkillers,
Quickest respite.
Sweet time unafflicted,
Various world:
X = your zenith.
ABC
by Robert Pinsky
Any body can die, evidently. Few
Go happily, irradiating joy,
Knowledge, love. many need oblivion, painkillers,
Quickest respite.
Sweet time unafflicted,
Various world:
X = your zenith.
Quote Response: Resume by Dorothy Parker
This entire poem is fantastic. In it's own satiric and sarcastic way it is so life positive:
Razors pain you;
Rivers are damp;
Acids stain you;
And drugs cause cramp;
Guns aren't lawful;
Nooses give;
Gas smells awful;
You might as well live.
These are fantastic reasons for not killing yourself. Not the usual reasons that you'll hurt the ones you love or it's a sin in the eyes of god, etc. The main reasons are that these ways are more of an inconvenience than horrible ways to die. So, rather than go through the inconvenience of all that, you might as well just stay alive and not put yourself through the hassle.
Razors pain you;
Rivers are damp;
Acids stain you;
And drugs cause cramp;
Guns aren't lawful;
Nooses give;
Gas smells awful;
You might as well live.
These are fantastic reasons for not killing yourself. Not the usual reasons that you'll hurt the ones you love or it's a sin in the eyes of god, etc. The main reasons are that these ways are more of an inconvenience than horrible ways to die. So, rather than go through the inconvenience of all that, you might as well just stay alive and not put yourself through the hassle.
Poem Paraphrase - The Chimney Sweeper by William Blake
I have chosen The Chimney Sweeper by William Blake as my poem to paraphrase. The original poem will follow.
When I was a young boy my mother died. Immediately after, my father sent me off to be a chimney sweep before I even had a chance to mourn her. I work for you, sweeping out your chimneys and I sleep in poverty and soot. There is a a little boy who is a sweep named Tom Dacre. He had the curliest hair, like a woolly lamb. When he had his head shaved it upset him greatly. I tried to comfort him by telling him that the soot can't spoil his white blond hair now. That quieted him down. That same night he had a dream that thousands of sweepers, including dick, Joe, Ned and Jack had all died and were locked up in coffins. An Angel came and with a bright key opened the coffins and set them free from their deaths. They all ran through the green grass, laughing and jumping on their way. They washed themselves in the river and basked in the light of the sun. Once they had washed the dirt and grime of this world off themselves, they were taken up on clouds to heaven. The Angel told Tom that if he were a good boy, someday he would have God for his father and would always be happy and never want for joy. When Tom woke, we gathered our brushes and went off to work. It was a cold morning, but Tom was happy and warm, basking in the light of his dream. What I have learned from this is that if you do what you are supposed to do, then there is no reason to fear life or death.
The Chimney Sweeper
by William Blake
When my mother died I was very young,
And my father sold me while yet my tongue
Could scarcely cry " 'weep! 'weep! 'weep! 'weep!"
So your chimneys I sweep, and in soot I sleep.
There's little Tom Dacre, who cried when his head,
That curled like a lamb's back, was shaved: so I said
"Hush, Tom! never mind it, for when you head's bare
You know that the soot cannot spoil you white hair."
And so he was quiet, and that very night,
As Tom was a-sleeping, he had such a sight!
That thousands of sweepers, Dick, Joe, Ned, and Jack,
Were all of them locked up in coffins of black.
And by came an Angel who had a bright key,
And he opened the coffins and set them all free;
Then down a green plain leaping, laughing they run,
And wash in a river, and shine in the sun.
Then naked and white, all their bags left behind,
They rise upon clouds and sport in the wind;
And the Angel told tom, if he'd be a good boy,
He'd have God for his father, and never want joy.
And so tom awoke; and we rose in the dark,
And got with our bags and our brushes to work.
Though the morning was cold, Tom was happy and warm;
So if all do their duty they need not fear harm.
When I was a young boy my mother died. Immediately after, my father sent me off to be a chimney sweep before I even had a chance to mourn her. I work for you, sweeping out your chimneys and I sleep in poverty and soot. There is a a little boy who is a sweep named Tom Dacre. He had the curliest hair, like a woolly lamb. When he had his head shaved it upset him greatly. I tried to comfort him by telling him that the soot can't spoil his white blond hair now. That quieted him down. That same night he had a dream that thousands of sweepers, including dick, Joe, Ned and Jack had all died and were locked up in coffins. An Angel came and with a bright key opened the coffins and set them free from their deaths. They all ran through the green grass, laughing and jumping on their way. They washed themselves in the river and basked in the light of the sun. Once they had washed the dirt and grime of this world off themselves, they were taken up on clouds to heaven. The Angel told Tom that if he were a good boy, someday he would have God for his father and would always be happy and never want for joy. When Tom woke, we gathered our brushes and went off to work. It was a cold morning, but Tom was happy and warm, basking in the light of his dream. What I have learned from this is that if you do what you are supposed to do, then there is no reason to fear life or death.
The Chimney Sweeper
by William Blake
When my mother died I was very young,
And my father sold me while yet my tongue
Could scarcely cry " 'weep! 'weep! 'weep! 'weep!"
So your chimneys I sweep, and in soot I sleep.
There's little Tom Dacre, who cried when his head,
That curled like a lamb's back, was shaved: so I said
"Hush, Tom! never mind it, for when you head's bare
You know that the soot cannot spoil you white hair."
And so he was quiet, and that very night,
As Tom was a-sleeping, he had such a sight!
That thousands of sweepers, Dick, Joe, Ned, and Jack,
Were all of them locked up in coffins of black.
And by came an Angel who had a bright key,
And he opened the coffins and set them all free;
Then down a green plain leaping, laughing they run,
And wash in a river, and shine in the sun.
Then naked and white, all their bags left behind,
They rise upon clouds and sport in the wind;
And the Angel told tom, if he'd be a good boy,
He'd have God for his father, and never want joy.
And so tom awoke; and we rose in the dark,
And got with our bags and our brushes to work.
Though the morning was cold, Tom was happy and warm;
So if all do their duty they need not fear harm.
Saturday, July 14, 2012
Discovery
One thing about taking a literature course that I have really appreciated is that fact that I have rediscovered my love of short stories. I've been gobbling up all the stories in our text book. Lovely little nuggets of fiction. They may be short but they are completely satisfying. What makes them so delicious?
The fact that they are compact but jam packed full of drama, humor, images, theme...everything rolled up into one tight, well constructed package. They are almost like little soundbites from great writers. I love how they can tell a story so quickly but not leave me hanging with unresolved issues or questions. I may have to come up with them myself, but the information is there for me to piece together my own conclusions. And I can do it in 30 minutes! Talk about a time saver. I can commit to an entire story and it won't take me a couple of weeks to get through it.
I love finding quirky short stories with a bit of humor. One of my favorite first finds was Bernice Bobs Her Hair by F. Scott Fitzgerald. It's the story of Bernice, a dopey kind of girl who comes to visit her beautiful cousin, Marjorie, for the summer. She runs with the popular crowd, but is pretty much tolerated. Her cousin basically tells her she's a bore and gets Bernice to agree to let her guide her. At this point in time, women are still keeping their hair long and putting it up. However, the bobbed hairstyle is coming into vogue, but is consider unmoral and something only fast girls wear. Bernice starts tell everyone that she is considering getting her hair bobbed. This grabs attention and allows her to flirt with all the boys. Eventually, Marjorie's boyfriend becomes infatuated with Bernice and Marjorie is not thrilled. She decides to call Bernice's bluff. So Bernice goes to the barber shop and, in front of all the in-crowd, gets her hair bobbed. The boys, including Marjorie's boyfriend, lose interest. Bernice decides to go home, but before she does she takes her revenge on Marjorie. She goes into her room in the early morning and cuts off her braids. She then flings them on the front porch and runs off down the street to catch her train.
A short synopsis, but I highly recommend it if you haven't read it. You can find the text here: Bernice Bobs Her Hair. You're welcome and enjoy!
The fact that they are compact but jam packed full of drama, humor, images, theme...everything rolled up into one tight, well constructed package. They are almost like little soundbites from great writers. I love how they can tell a story so quickly but not leave me hanging with unresolved issues or questions. I may have to come up with them myself, but the information is there for me to piece together my own conclusions. And I can do it in 30 minutes! Talk about a time saver. I can commit to an entire story and it won't take me a couple of weeks to get through it.
I love finding quirky short stories with a bit of humor. One of my favorite first finds was Bernice Bobs Her Hair by F. Scott Fitzgerald. It's the story of Bernice, a dopey kind of girl who comes to visit her beautiful cousin, Marjorie, for the summer. She runs with the popular crowd, but is pretty much tolerated. Her cousin basically tells her she's a bore and gets Bernice to agree to let her guide her. At this point in time, women are still keeping their hair long and putting it up. However, the bobbed hairstyle is coming into vogue, but is consider unmoral and something only fast girls wear. Bernice starts tell everyone that she is considering getting her hair bobbed. This grabs attention and allows her to flirt with all the boys. Eventually, Marjorie's boyfriend becomes infatuated with Bernice and Marjorie is not thrilled. She decides to call Bernice's bluff. So Bernice goes to the barber shop and, in front of all the in-crowd, gets her hair bobbed. The boys, including Marjorie's boyfriend, lose interest. Bernice decides to go home, but before she does she takes her revenge on Marjorie. She goes into her room in the early morning and cuts off her braids. She then flings them on the front porch and runs off down the street to catch her train.
A short synopsis, but I highly recommend it if you haven't read it. You can find the text here: Bernice Bobs Her Hair. You're welcome and enjoy!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)