Thursday, May 26, 2011

Daddy's Day

Her hair up in a ponytail, her favorite dress tied with a bow

Today was Daddy’s Day at school, and she couldn’t wait to go

But her mommy tried to tell her, that she probably should stay home

Why the kids might not understand, if she went to school alone

But she was not afraid; she knew just what to say

What to tell her classmates, on this Daddy’s Day

But still her mother worried, for her to face this day alone

And that was why once again, she tried to keep her daughter home

But the little girl went to school, eager to tell them all

About a dad she never sees, a dad who never calls

There were daddies along the wall in back, for everyone to meet

Children squirming impatiently, anxious in their seats

One by one the teacher called, a student from the class

To introduce their daddy, as seconds slowly passed

At last the teacher called her name, every child turned to stare

Each of them were searching, for a man that wasn’t there

“Where’s her daddy at?” She heard a boy call out

“She probably doesn’t have one.” Another student dared to shout

And from somewhere near the back, she heard a daddy say

“Looks like another deadbeat dad, too busy to waste his day.”

The words did not offend her, as she smiled at her friends

And looked back at her teacher, who told her to begin

And with hands behind her back, slowly she began to speak

And out from the mouth of a child, came words incredibly unique

“My Daddy couldn’t be here, because he lives so far away

But I know he wishes he could be, with me on this day

And though you cannot meet him, I wanted you to know

All about my daddy, and how much he loves me so

He loved to tell me stories, he taught me to ride my bike

He surprised me with pink roses, and he taught me to fly a kite

We used to share fudge sundaes, and ice cream in a cone

And though you cannot see him, I’m not standing all alone

‘Cause my daddy’s always with me, even though we are apart

I know because he told me, he’ll forever be here in my heart”

With that her little hand reached up, and lay across her chest

Feeling her own heartbeat, beneath her favorite dress

And from somewhere in the crowd of dads, her mother stood in tears

Proudly watching her daughter, who was wise beyond her years

For she stood up for the love, of a man not in her life

Doing what was best for her, doing what was right

And when she dropped her hand back down, staring straight into the crowd

She finished with a voice so soft, but its message clear and loud

“I love my daddy very much, he’s my shining star

And if he could he’d be here, but heavens just too far

But sometimes when I close my eyes, it’s like he never went away”

And then she closed her eyes, and saw him there that day

And to her mother’s amazement, she witnessed with surprise

A room full of daddies and children, all starting to close their eyes

Who knows what they saw before them, who knows what they felt inside

Perhaps for merely a second, they saw him at her side

“I know you’re with me daddy.” To the silence she called out

And what happened next made believers, of those once filled with doubt

Not one in that room could explain it, for each of their eyes had been closed

But there placed on her desktop, was a beautiful fragrant pink rose

And a child was blessed, if only a moment, by the love of her shining bright star

And given the gift of believing, that heaven is never too far

Tuesday, May 10, 2011

Drift Away (based off The Eagle)

My feet sink into the yellow gems sparkling in the floor.
I feel the same way I always have before.
Always drifting outward, being in this world no more.

Of course, you see, it is only the under tow.
But it doesn’t bother me, and I choose to flow.
Goodbye land and ocean, hello.

Monday, May 9, 2011

"ABC" Never Say Can't

(SORRY IT JUST LET ME POST THIS)



klmnopqrstuvwxyz

Any Body Can Doubt.
Everybody Fails.
Get Happy,
In Joyful Kindness; Like
Mother Nature Openly Praising,
Quietly Restoring Serenity To
Understanding, Very Weary Xenophobic
Young Zoologists

Sunday, May 8, 2011

"The Eagle" imitation

He sticks his long tongue into your skin.
tweaking his wings against your skin,
I give him a little time to begin.

I know my blood is something he is needing;
but it really is a horrible feeling,
So right as he starts kneeling,
i squash him.

Wednesday, May 4, 2011

Imitation Poem

Shamu

In and out, you're massive body weaves
Through the water, you give me hope and my heart cleaves
To you like glue, and I begin to believe.

People look at you with dire,
But I can't help it, I admire,
You inspire.

Visual Sensory Poem

"The Utility Room Of Shame!" by Robert Kallend

In the room by myself I sit,
Alone and friendless, as if in a bottomless pit.
The darkness around me taking much of the air,
As I contemplate life, my endless despair.
No sighs but of my breathing, no tears but of my shedding,
Oh, how for morning. That time. I'm dreading.
What I have done was then so easy,
Now in my head it spins so dizzy.

I look around and can feel my humility,
Seeping about me in this room of utility.
The churning of the washing machine, the fluorescent light that flickers,
That noise, that constant noise. At me the room, it snickers.
Grasping the sink as a final resort,
I swirl, I sway as I cling for support.
Clasping the tap in brutal force,
Out comes the water, that liquid blue source.

Drowning my head to ease the sorrow,
I hope to forgive myself as today becomes tomorrow.
Lying on the floor I begin to regress,
The pain, this feeling, known simply as stress.
I can no longer cope and this is the end,
My mind it's broken. Not on the mend.
All because I played with fire,
Now to which I can't transpire.
The fateful thing that was once a game,
Now eating me up, in the Utility Room of Shame!

Monday, May 2, 2011

Starting New

She moved slowly,
like every part of her body was stuck
in jello, yet still
walking with an easy grace,
loping like a gazelle and
her eyes were shining like stars,
with the thought and possibility
of what was to come,
of what was right around the corner,
the new life that
was possible as she
stepped into the house and
began her dream.

Visual Sensory Poem

Meeting at Night by Robert Browning

The grey sea and the long black land;
And the yellow half-moon large and low;
And the startled little waves that leap
In fiery ringlets from their sleep,
As I gain the cove with pushing prow,
And quench its speed i' the slushy sand.

Then a mile of warm sea-scented beach;
Three fields to cross till a farm appears;
A tap at the pane, the quick sharp scratch
And blue spurt of a lighted match,
And a voice less loud, thro' its joys and fears,
Than the two hearts beating each to each!

Friday, April 29, 2011

Personal Sound and Form Poems 11/12

(Imitating "the Eagle")

From above he throws down each ball,
and watches as each hits the wall,
one by one each of the balls fall.

The balls that fall they do not stall,
in fact they never slow at all,
and like the boy they all stand tall.

The Road Not Taken

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim
Because it was grassy and wanted wear,
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I marked the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way
I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I,
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.

Poem

What's up? The ground.
My life's been upside down.
Try to smile, but I frown

Night's sun,
Count down from one,
Then I'm done

Poem

I'm walking down the path of life
I feel the chilling winds of strife
I taste the bitter pill of pain
Sometimes I feel I'm going insane
I call for help but no one hears
Have they no heart, or even ears?
I look for you, but you're not there
I think I've searched most everywhere
Are you there? Can you be found?
Or are you no longer around?
I need your help, I need a friend
I need someone a hand to lend
You must be near I smell perfume
The one you left inside my room
So pleasant and so very sweet
Always a delightful treat
I'm already feeling a tinge of hope
I think I'll throw away that rope
I'm no quitter, I am strong
God gave me life, I'll live it long
I'll get through this, I have before
It's not time to slam the door
I live. I love. I laugh. I'm free.
I feel. I hope. I am. Join me.

Spring (imitating The eagle)

As the year goes on we enter spring,

Oh what fun the Season will bring.

Together we listen to the birds sing.

Nature is now in full swing.

We want it to stay this way forever more,

Always being able to go to the shore.

Sweat pours from our every pore.

Now returns the cold weather from before,

Winter truly is a bore.

Thursday, April 28, 2011

Personal sound and form poem

A brutal catastrophe drops,
even fate.
gruesome.
hate irates.
Join?
Kind?
lover?
mother?
niece?
other?
people question.
response?
sincere.
tears unveiled.
vanished.
X= your z.

Imagery Chart Sensory Detail Poem

"Meeting at Night"
By: Robert Browning


The grey sea and the long black land;
And the yellow half-moon large and low;
And the startle little waves that leap
In fiery ringlets from their sleep,
As I gain the cave with pushing prow,
And quench it's speed I the slushy land.

Then a mile of warm sea-scented beach;
Three fields to cross till a farm appears;
A tap at the pane, the quick sharp scratch
And blue spurt of lighted match,
And a voice less loud, thro' its joys and fears,
than the two hearts beating each to each.

Envy

It is true.
I envy nothing more than you.
But still, you have no clue.

I want what you possess,
but I should be content with what I possess.
Maybe one day, I won't stress,
and I will be happy with my life, I guess.

Summertime- Narrative Poem

I miss dancing around in our summer skin,
Not having a single care in our mind.
We'd take long walks on sunlit nights,
Throwing away all the drama that is going to be forgotten anyway.

It seems like such a big deal at the moment,
But you know
When you look back you'll be laughing.
But when there's so many things bouncing around in our minds,
it's hard to separate what really matters
from what is complete nonsense.

Somehow it entertains me.
In the summer you can carelessly care about things
Because in the end nothing truly matters enough.
Summer gives us warmth in our souls,
And junk within our brains.
Yet everyone adores it.

Anything can make a laugh burst into the air,
Especially when it's least expected.
Bikinis and tan lines,
Memories and true friends,
Summer brings things we remember till the end.

Seperate me from school
and this craziness that has consumed my mind.
I miss you summer,
Bring me summertime.

The Closer

"The Closer" ("The Eagle")

He places the ball in his dirty glove.
He can't let the batter hit the ball. No, that's not enough.
He has to - must - strike him out. This is gonna be tough!

The games on the line; there is no doubt.
He picks up his sign from his catcher, who is giving him a encouraging shout.
He winds up, cocks back, and gives him the heat. Strike 3! Batter's out!

"ZYX" ("ABC")

Zither, yueqin, xylophone.
When vocalists use these,

Song results.
Quiet, peaceful, orderly notes.
Music lovers ken: just interest

Hones gratitude. Extracted
From dulcet, concord

Beats amiably.

Personal Sound and Form Poem

"The Feeling"
(Imitating "The Eagle")

The sensation sometimes comes unexpectedly.

Yet no matter when that phenomenon does happen, it must be cared for tenderly.

Now all there is to do is wonder and hope that one day it will come to me.


Forgetting, losing, or walking away from the feeling is tragic,

And if it lies in your grasp, but is abandoned then that would be idiotic,

For we must treasure it because love is the closest thing we have to magic.

The Pitcher ("The Eagle")

She grips the ball with dirty fingers.
Close to the end of the game,
Butterflies filling her stomach, she begins.

The sweat dripping down her face,
She awaits the batters swing,
and like a smack, the ball hits the catcher's glove.

"The Gymnast" ("The Eagle")

She grabs the grips with chalky hands.
Looks down to see the rips on her hand,
Finishes the bar routine until she stands.

The mats beneath her seem to stall;
As she flips around the bar by the wall,
Then like a flash she dismounts and falls.

My version of "the Eagle"- "The Dancer"

Carefully she laces up her pink,satin shoes with shaky hands.
It is almost time and she is left to herself to make last minute preperations.
Hearing the audience on the other side of the curtain quiet down, she gets into a starting position.

The velvet, crimson curtains slowly part,
She looks out towards the crowd, with focus, as the spotlight is quickly focused on her.
Like a wishie, she swiftly piourettes onto the hardwood floor- almost quick enough to make her look like she was floating.

Personal Sound and Form Poems pd 11-12

Waves move in from across the ocean,

All of the water is now in motion;

Creating what seems like a deathly suction.


It crashes and you are just fine,

And return to shore to enjoy your time,

And you realize there is no reason to whine.


ABC's of Sports

Athletes batting completely determined, eternally. Few
go huge, injuries jolting,

Keep listening. Much necessary optimism; pessimism
quickly recovered.

Sharing teamwork uniquely,
Victory wows!

Xerox Yankees' zen.


ABC Poem

A blank canvas-
Dreaming eagerly for greatness.
Hopefully images justify knowledge,
Letting mere new-comers object pretenders.
Questions rise seeking truth.
Ultimately, very wary xenophobes yield zero.



xenophobe: an individual who is afraid of things that are foreign or strange

Personal Sound and Form Poem

Faces of Emotion


Eyes dance with happiness and lungs burst with laughter from every simple smile.

A smug look of pure satisfaction conjures a sense of victory for sure.

Heads shake, hearts pulse, hands clench in the face of denial.

Prim, proper, and prestigious people, prove to be quite mature.

Hearts bleed after being wounded in the battlefield of love.

Arms crossed, eyes roll, and lectures are given as you challenge and defy.

Honest and truthful, pure, innocent, gentle as a dove.

Salty, sticky, tears flow like a never ending river as you cry.

Screams of frustration causing crimson colored cheeks and blood to boil.

Sly looks and playful smiles, acting mysterious and oh so coy.

The world turned upside down and spinning around, causing great turmoil.

Exclamations of bliss and pleasure! Excitement and jubilance! Bursting with joy!

You cannot fly without wings or catch every fish in the ocean

Just as you cannot change each and every emotion.



Imitation of "Sonnet 18" by William Shakespeare

Personal Sound and Form Poems Pd. 2

Imitating "The Eagle"

The man walks tall in the rising flames.
He hangs his head down in stinging shame;
So many lives that his hands have claimed.

The man has left his loves and his land.
He had hopes to accomplish something grand,
But all he found was burning sand.

The man looks up into the blue skies.
His eyes water, and then he cries:
Was this parched land worth all the lies?



"Dreams-An ABC Poem"

Always baby, continue dreaming.

Every fantasy generally has ideas,

journeys, knowledge, laughter, memories.

Now observe peoples quiet rest.

Sights. Twitches. Underwear. Voices.

Why?

X-ray your zodiac.

ABCs of animals

A brilliantly colored dog freely gallops,
hopping in jolly.
Koalas lying moveless,
now open pens,
quietly run.
Sloths terrified underneath vines,
with xylophones yelling zealously.

Personal Sound and Form Poems

"The Abc of a class clown"

A boy can dance, eventually. Funny
Guys have intelligent jokes.

Knowing lies mysteriously
needs one's permission.
Quite Raging.

Some Things ultimately
veer weirdly

X is your Zealousness

Pd 11/12 Imitating "Blackberry Eating"

I walk along the tree lined path,
surround by the beautiful, angelic, blue birds.
To sing a morning tune,
was their daily routine,
They were flawless.
I could try and struggle
to copy their amazing voices,
but there was only room for failure
in that situation.
So many tiny birds
singing wonderful songs.
I listen, dream, imagine
a thought of perfect singing.
It was my favorite thing
in those first few months of Spring.

Imagery Sensory Eample

http://www.mith2.umd.edu/WomensStudies/ReadingRoom/Poetry/Dickinson/

Selected Poems by Emily Dickinson


A drop fell on the apple tree
Another on the roof;
A half a dozen kissed the eaves,
And made the gables laugh.

A few went out to help the brook,
That went to help the sea.
Myself conjectured, Were they pearls,
What necklaces could be!

The dust replaced in hoisted roa
The birds jocoser sung;
The sunshine threw his hat away,
The orchards spangles hung.

The breezes brought dejected
And bathed them in the glee;
The East put out a single flag,
And signed the fete away.

Rehab ("ABC" by Robert Pisky)

After buzz causes disorientation.
Endless fear grasps humanity.
Its jouney keeps lapsing muderious nature,
oppressing public questions.
Realing, sweating, trembling,
unprotected, vonerable, weak.
X-off your zeal

Imitating "Black Berry Eating" by Galway Kinnell

Hazy Summer Nights

I love to go out on those hazy summer nights
lingering with bright, twinkling stars
to roam around the streets with good friends,
kick it laughing, all relaxing
they are all a part of me
even through all the stupid fights
it never mattered who was wrong or right
falling into pools that weren't even our own,
as we did anything for just that little rush,
like a craving for thrills,
many close calls during the never-ending nights,
the sleep we fought and the places we got caught,
we'd all go home late and the next night,
we'd do it all over again,
and experience another hazy summer night.

Imitating "The Eagle"

Under the sun

We have so much fun,

It gets so hot you want to run,

But nothing can be done.

And walking along the sunny shore,

We swore,

We’d be there forever more.

The little bits that wash ashore,

nothing compared to the beauty found offshore.


PS: Everyone wrote about the beach!! lol

Personal Sound and Form Poem

Ocean Spray- (imitating "Blackberry Eating")

I love to go out in early August
and fly into the cool, wet, salty, turquoise ocean;
I feel the spray hitting my face as if I were
running through a cloud, an added bonus,
for I am after relief
from the blazing sun: and as I sink into the sand,
its slippery coolness enveloping my legs, the foam swirls
and eddies in frothing white bubbles around my waist,
as if it were excited children crowding to greet me-
although they are softer, less demanding, a whisper-
those whom I cherish as if old friends;
for I've missed them since I've been gone
away from the cool, wet, salty, turquoise world
that is the ocean spray in early August

Of Salt Breeze and Sea Glass

My heart belongs to breezy days
and showers of sea salt
that fall on my face
from the force of the wind
as it carries the waves precariously close
to my feet, frozen with cold,
the same feet that search for sea glass
and alert me to the precious finding of a piece,
each capturing an ever evasive color:
a palest pink - nearly white,
deep green, evoking the depths of the ocean
followed by brown, barely found amongst sea weed
and hopefully a blue piece peeking out of the sand,
a simple sliver of glass
so eagerly sought each morning
as the devoted dutifully scour the beach,
but stumbled upon by only the unsuspecting novice,
much the same way that words
appear in my mind,
words that are pondered and pleaded with,
simple letters strung together that are asked
to be precious and precocious,
but all that we really rely on them for
is creating the beautiful breezy day
where I fell in love with looking for sea glass
and feeling sea salt showers against my face.

Based on "Blackberry Eating"

Imagery Poem

"After Apple Picking"
Robert Frost

My long two-pointed ladder's sticking through a tree
Toward heaven still,
And there's a barrel that I didn't fill
Beside it, and there may be two or three
Apples I didn't pick upon some bough.
But I am done with apple-picking now.
Essence of winter sleep is on the night,
The scent of apples: I am drowsing off.
I cannot rub the strangeness from my sight
I got from looking through a pane of glass
I skimmed this morning from the drinking trough
And held against the world of hoary grass.
It melted, and I let it fall and break.
But I was well
Upon my way to sleep before it fell,
And I could tell
What form my dreaming was about to take.
Magnified apples appear and disappear,
Stem end and blossom end,
And every fleck of russet showing clear.
My instep arch not only keeps the ache,
It keeps the pressure of a ladder-round.
I feel the ladder sway as the boughs bend.

And I keep hearing from the cellar bin
The rumbling sound
Of load on load of apples coming in.
For I have had too much
Of apple-picking: I am overtired
Of the great harvest I myself desired.
There were ten thousand thousand fruit to touch,
Cherish in hand, lift down, and not let fall.
For all
That struck the earth,
No matter if not bruised or spiked with stubble,
Went surely to the cider-apple heap
As of no worth.
One can see what will trouble
This sleep of mine, whatever sleep it is.
Were he not gone,
The woodchuck could say whether it's like his
Long sleep, as I describe its coming on,
Or just some human sleep.

Poem with Imagery

Where the Sidewalk Ends by Shel Silverstein
There is a place where the sidewalk ends
And before the street begins,
And there the grass grows soft and white,
And there the sun burns crimson bright,
And there the moon-bird rests from his flight
To cool in the peppermint wind.

Let us leave this place where the smoke blows black
And the dark street winds and bends.
Past the pits where the asphalt flowers grow
We shall walk with a walk that is measured and slow,
And watch where the chalk-white arrows go
To the place where the sidewalk ends.

Yes we'll walk with a walk that is measured and slow,
And we'll go where the chalk-white arrows go,
For the children, they mark, and the children, they know
The place where the sidewalk ends.

personal sound poem- imitaing "The Eagle"

"Paino"

All 88 keys help make beutiful sound.
Played softly and light, or with fingers that pound,
Whatever the noise, music is found.

In a silent room it gracfully sings.
In a loud room it demands quiet form all things,
When I touch it, it lets out its ring.

Imagery Poem

There's sun on the river and sun on the hill
.You can hear the sea if you stand quite still!
There's eight new puppies at Roundabout Farm-
And I saw an old sailor with only one arm!

But everyone says, "Run along!" (Run along, run along!)
All of them say, "Run along! I'm busy as can be.
"Every one says, "Run along, There's a little darling!"
If I'm a little darling, why don't they run with me?

There's wind on the river and wind on the hill
There's a dark dead water-wheel under the mill!
I saw a fly which had just been drowned-
And I know where a rabbit goes into the ground!

But everyone says, "Run along!"(Run along, run along!)
All of them say, "Yes, dear," and never notice me.
Every one says, "Run along,There's a little darling!"
If I'm a little darling, why won't they come and see?

By: A.A Milne

the baseball

The baseball leaves the hand,
not sure where it will land,
in the grass or in someone's hand.

The ball is hit and it flies,
staying up in the skies,
remaining there until its demise.

imitation of "the eagle" in the poetry packet.

Sensory Imagery Poem

Here Be Dragons

Here be dragons, they say

under bits of carpet and the shadows of a chair
lurking round the ringing bits of bells
You won’t see them, because their wings
sweep fire and brimstone and pavement dirt
into your eyes, where they stick all black
in the corners, and make you forget
They roll on marbles so you can’t hear
the crunch of claws, and think it’s just the wind
and like forgotten places, attics and window frames
where they can draw their simple thoughts in dust

They are getting old, and they don’t like loud music or cars
or skyscrapers, or new fangled disco dancing
And when the sun gets hotter their scales will melt
along with frog’s crowns and the harshness of peas

The dragons won’t bother us any more.

Wednesday, April 27, 2011

Personal sound and form poems-Summer

When will summer finally come?
The days are counting down
Until the ants attack the crumb
The picnic basket is in the park downtown
As people gather to watch the ballgame
Children splash in the pool
As the sunbathers go up in flames
Girls have already went on their shopping spree
Oh where oh where may summer be?

Personal Sound and Form Poem

Dreams

Dreams can be a funny thing.
They can be about anything,
In dreams you could even be a king.

You can have fun in your dream;
You could be a star on a sports team,
But things aren't always what they seem.

Personal Sound and Form Poems

The Excitement Of Spring

The excitement starts and ends with the ball parks,
the rows of helmets,
and the smell of hotdogs nuzzling with the fresh cut grass.

The players long waited anxiousness
and the hours of bull pen sessions.
The spring training games in Florida that has all lead up to this.

The wooden bats clanking against the dug out walls,
and the bags of sun flower seeds awaiting opening day.
The excitement of spring starts and ends with baseball.

Vivid Sensory Poem

Hold fast to dreams
For if dreams die
Life is a broken-winged bird
That cannot fly.

Hold fast to dreams
For when dreams go
Life is a barren field
Frozen with snow.

Dreams by Langston Hughes

My Vivid Sensory Poem

HOPE IS THE THING WITH FEATHERS

By: Emily Dickinson

"Hope" is the thing with feathers
That perches in the soul
And sings the tune without the words
And never stops at all,

And sweetest in the gale is heard;
And sore must be the storm
That could abash the little bird
That kept so many warm.

I've heard it in the chillest land
And on the strangest sea,
Yet never, in extremity,
It asked a crumb of me.

Friday, March 11, 2011

Naive Romeo

Romeo is seen throughout the play as naive and aloof. He doesn't seem to fully grasp consequences, and the way his moods change are childish. Romeo seems to live for drama, and this gets him into trouble time after time.

The first time the aduience is introduced to Romeo's naivety is in the beginning of the play when Romeo is depressed over losing his love, Rosaline. He is naive to the world of love, and completely overdramatisizes the matter, acting like he will never love again.

"What doth her beauty serve as but as a note. Where I may read who passed that passing fair? Farewell. Thou canst not teach me to forget (Act I, i, 244-246)," Romeo whines after going on and on about Rosaline's beauty.

Although Romeo stated hours earlier he could not forget about Rosaline, he goes to a party at the Capulet estate that night and proves his naevity once again when he "falls in love" with Juliet before he even speaks with her. The very next day, he says to his friend Friar Lawrence when confronted about Rosaline, "I have forgot that name and that name's woe."

This really shows Romeo is naive because he does not yet have the adult capabilities to feel deep emotion and think of the consequences to his actions.

Thursday, March 10, 2011

Understanding Friar Lawrence

Friar Lawrence can be best described as understanding and helpful. He is very sympathetic towards both Romeo and Juliet considering their situation. For example, when Romeo asks Friar Lawrence to marry him and Juliet, he responded, "In one respect I'll thy assistant be" (Shakespeare II. iii. 97). He, unlike Romeo's parents would, disregards the families Romeo and Juliet come from. Instead of rejecting the two lovers, he agrees to marry them, seeing the true love Romeo has shown for Juliet. Another way the priest has displayed his sympathetic views was towards Juliet. She came to him in a desperate mode looking for help. She had wished to not marry Paris. Her parents, specifically her father, try to force her to marry him. Friar Lawrence sees from her point of view and understands the struggle she is going through. He then devises a plan for her and Romeo happily away from their families. Although this plan turned disastrous and tragic, Friar Lawrence was only hoping for the best. In three words, Friar Lawrence is understanding, helpful, and caring.

Wednesday, March 9, 2011

Daydreamer Juliet

Juliet is undoubtably a dreamer, as supported by her various soliloquies, which delve into her innermost desires. One such passage is this:

"...Come, gentle night; come, loving black-browed night,
Give me my Romeo, and when I shall die,
Take him and cut him out in little stars,
And he will make the face of heaven so fine
That all the world will be in love with night..." (III.ii.21-26.)

A daydreamer is someone who is often absorbed in their own thoughts. These thoughts are usually fantastical or romanticized projections of what another person's interaction with the daydreamer may be. In this passage, Juliet is anxiously awaiting the arrival of her husband. Instead of doing something useful such as reading or sewing to occupy her time, she dwells on the thought of his arrival. She wonders at the thought of their joining, and then follows that train of thought to join his beauty with that of another beautiful thing: the heavens. These musings of hers can only be defined as daydreams, as they are both fantastical and romanticized.

Cantankerous Capulet

The main man in the Capulet house is very Cantankerous

"Hang thee, young baggage, disobediant wretch!
I tell thee what: get thee to church o' Thursday
or never after look me in the face.
Speak not; reply not; do not answer me"
(III.v.166-169)

"Or I will drag thee on a hurdle thither.
Out, you green-sickness carrion!Out you baggage!
You tallow face"
(III.v.160-163)

In these scenes Capulet is being very cantankerous. Cantankerous means that somone is ill-tempered and difficult to control. In this scene Capulet is threatening to throw Juliet, is thirteen year old daughter out of his house if whe refuses to marry Paris on Thursday.
He does not seem to care if Juliet will be happy or not with Paris. He does not seem to be a happy guy in general. He also calls his daughter baggage, which means a good for nothing women. On top of all this, in the movie, Capulet hits Juliet as well as his wife making his rage immpossible to control. This definatly makes Capulet Cantankerous.


Trait blog -The Nurse

Juliet's nurse reminds me of a grandmother. She is very kind-hearted, tender, and loving. In Juliet’s life, she is an important motherly figure.


“That shall she, marry; I remember it well.

‘Tis the earthquake now eleven years;

And she was weaned (I never shall forget it),”

(I.iii.22-24)

“My Lord and you (Lady Capulet) were then at Mantua.

Nay, I do bear a brain. But, as I said,

When it did taste the wormwood on the nipple

Of my dug and felt it bitty, pretty fool,

To see it tetchy and fall out with the dug!”

(I.iii.27-32)

“She (Juliet) could have run and waddled all about;

For even the day before, she broke her brow;

And then my husband took up the child.”

(I.iii.37-39)


These are just snippets of the dramatic monologue when the Nurse speaks as if she was Juliet’s own mother. She reminisces on all the times of when she was caring for little Juliet. It's almost as if she is bragging to Lady Capulet about all the great times her and Juliet had together throughout Juliet's childhood. She even speaks about when she breastfed Juliet. I think it is very sweet how attentive and thoughtful the Nurse is. I imagine her to be a very cute little old lady that is a bit like Juliet's partner in crime. After all, she is trying to help her out because she loves her and wants her to be happy. Romeo and Friar share a very similar relationship.

Monday, March 7, 2011

Juliet is equal to decieving

Juliet is deceiving. While at Friar Lawrence's cell to disscuss wedding plans with Paris, Juliet in-directly tells him that she is actually married to Romeo; she has no desire to be wed to Paris.

Paris: Happily met,my lafy and my wife!
Juliet: That may be, sir, when I may be a wife... (IV.i.18-19)
Paris: Come you to make confession to this father?
Juliet: To answer that, I should confess to you.
Paris: Do not deny to him that you love me.
Juliet: I confess to you that I love him... (IV.i.23-26)
Paris: Thy face is mine,and thou hast sland'red it.
Juliet: It may be so, for it is not mine own... (IV.i.35-36)

Here is when Juliet gives Paris three distinct clues that she is already married. However, she words herself in such a way that it is hard for Paris to pick up on this. The whole time she is talking to him she is saying how she is already married to Romeo, and that he has no buissness in going forth with the wedding plans. Paris being self-absorbed and anxious to make Juliet his wife, is completley oblivious to what she is really saying, thinking that she is talking about him the whole time. By chosing how she words what she wants to say very carefully, Juliet is able to throw Paris off track of what she really thinks of him; she decieves him into thinking that she is actually in love with him when she is not really at all, her heart belongs to Romeo.

Trait Blog--Citizens of Verona

Select one of the characters from the streets of Verona and explain his or her most salient character trait. Provide at least one passage from the story to demonstrate this. Here is an example for Paris.

Pompous Paris
"Happily met, my lady and my wife" (IV.i.18)


Paris thinks that Juliet is very excited and happy to be marrying him. He thinks that Juliet should be gratful for being able to marry him. In some ways Paris is narcissistic, he is very full of himself. When Juliet replies to Paris's comment, she says,"That may be, sir, when I may be a wife" ( IV.i.19) Juliet statement was directed towards Friar Lawerence, but Paris thought she was talking to him. Paris goes on about how happy she will be once they are husband and wife, not even considering what Juliet has to say. He is narcissistic, he it is always about him and how wonderful he is. Paris does not realy care what Juliet thinks, he looks at thier marriage as a business deal--a business deal that will benefit him. He truly is Pompous Paris.

Trait Blog--House of Capulet

Select one of the characters from the house of Capulet and explain his or her most salient character trait. Provide at least one passage from the story to demonstrate this. Here is an example for Tybalt.


Tybalt; a daring troublemaker
“What, drawn, and talk of peace! I hate the word,
As I hate hell, all Montagues and thee:
Have at thee, coward!”
(I.i.62-64)


It is safe to say that most who read Shakespeare's renowned play, Romeo and Juliet, think of Tybalt as being an intolerable and combative characater. This quote that is said in the streets of Verona clearly illustrates the type of person he is. This personality that Tybalt possesses is essential in the plot of Romeo and Juliet. Many fights spark becuase of his belligerant qualities and his knack for setting people into a mad rage. Not only is he willing to fight at the drop of a hat but he also makes a concerted effort to discrace the Montague nameat the same time. This unfortunate ability to set people off leads to the death of Mercutio and himself. Becuase of TYbalt's death, Lord and Lady Capulet both attempt to rush Juliet into a marriage with Paris. He has ways of transitioning from one tragic event to another.

Trait Blog--House of Montague

Select one of the characters from the house of Montague and explain his or her most salient character trait. Provide at least one passage from the story to demonstrate this. Here is an example for Benvolio (a rather detailed example at that!).

Benvolio; you are Benevolent
…The passive and honorable Benvolio was one to be respected until the end.

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"I Pray thee good Mercutio, let’s retire:
The day is hot, the Capulets abroad,
And, if we meet, we shall not scape a brawl:
For now, these hot days, is the mad blood stirring."
(III.i.1-2)
--------------------------------------------------------------
A poor and troubled man torn between his family and what he knows is right. A man that is pulled by his will to do good and the honor of his family. Obviously, this man is confused but the supremacy of right is top quality in his skull. This quote along with anon quotes to come, Benvolio is portrayed as a soft spoken type of man, who would much rather speak with his brains than his weapon. He respects the reputation of his family and his guilt. He sees the truth in killing a man over his last name, the reasoning filled to the brink of stupidity. It is craven and purely insane that they seek such a public place for their ruff housing, and between the belligerent other males Benvolio truly shows his peaceful mind throughout scene III. He does respect their lethal choices but would much prefer that they didn’t act upon them. In a few sections he casually suggests a private place, or a conversation or two to settle things through something else, rather than murder. Throughout most of the book he takes a back seat to other plots, but in this area is where he truly proves his personality. Perhaps, if someone had taken the time to listen to his sensible words, two (even a few more) would be animate.

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“We talk here in the public haunt of men:
Either withdraw unto some private place,
And reason coldly of your grievances,
Or else depart, here all eyes gaze on us.”
(III.i.14-17)
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All in all, Benvolio truly has all human kind on mind, instead of his selfish drive to exterminate elderly foes. Cheers to the Benevolent Benvolio.

Sunday, February 13, 2011

Apollo




Hello, I'd like to introduce myself. My names Apollo and i'm a Greek God. I'm known as the God of a few things. Medicine and healing are associated with my name. I have the power to mediate, as does my son Asclepius. As contradicting as it may seem, I also have the power to bring deathly plaguea and ill-health. If you thought I was done, you thought wrong! I'm also the God of music and poetry. In a lot of pictures i'm caught with a harp.

To Queen Mab

Your post was really creative and full of voice. For example, saying, "It is true that I am a tiny ol' thing, therefore explaining that I am a Fairy," was much more intriguing than just typing "I am a Fairy." Also, the way you tied your story in with Romeo and Juliet at the end of the post helped me to make the connection between what we're doing in class and the myth surrounding your character.

Saturday, February 12, 2011

Queen Mab's Bio


Let me formerly introduced myself, I am no other then Queen Mab. I creep into your nose with my chariot and make my way to your brain while you sleep. No need to worry though, I mean no harm. My only concern is for you to have wishful and meaningful dreams. It is true that I am a tiny ol' thing, therefore explaining that I am a Fairy. Queen of faries to be exact. I will be mentioned a couple of times after spending time with Romeo as he rests. Mercutio has a few conversations about me to Romeo. However, each time he seems to internally debate my existance. Despite what he says, dreams are very much real and so am I.

Friday, February 11, 2011

To Circe

When I attempted to comment, it told me I couldn't, so I figured that I'ld just make a new post.

I really likedthe tone in the beginning; you did a really good job embodying the godess. However, as the post went on, it got a little repetative (man, drug, and pig were used alot) and kind of fact heavy. If you carried the tone from the first half of the blog through to the second half, this post could become even better.

Thursday, February 10, 2011

Please read**

Please keep a few important thoughts in mind when blogging from this point forward.  These are issues that seem to be cropping up.
  1. You are YOU, not your Greek/biblical persona.  This is simply a name to help us gain anonymity.  So please write your own thoughts in your own voice.
  2. Remember, I will read everything you post on here.  This is not a space for juvenile or immature comments.  This blog is a tool to extend our thinking and writing practice as well as a way for our two classes to discuss together.  Please feel comfortable sharing your honest thougths, but do not criticize someone's post simply for the sake of criticizing.  You may comment on any topic that strikes you beyond what is assigned, but do so with meaning, purpose, and maturity.
  3. Spelling, grammar, and tone do count.  When I assign a blog or comment, I will check for mechanic errors, appropriate capitalization, etc.  Keep that in mind!  Spell/grammar check and write in a more formal rather than informal manner.
Happy blogging, ladies and gents! :)

Wednesday, February 9, 2011

Aphrodite Bio


My name is Aphrodite. I am the famous goddess of love, beauty, and desire. I am known for being polite, kind, sweet, and irresistible. It is said that I was the start of the Trojan war because I bribed the Prince of Troy to name me "the fairest". So he did and in return I gave him Helen of Troy, an already married woman. This started a war. My name, Aphrodite, means "sprang from the sea". I came out of the ocean riding a large shell and at first sight, everyone loved me. I was also known for helping men fulfill their wishes and bless them with eternal happiness. I surpassed all other goddesses, and they got jealous! However, I never let them get to me and I became the favorite goddess of most people. The Romans called me Venus, Love Goddess, and Aphrodite.

King Solomon Bio


Hello, I am King Solomon. I am the son of King David, and I was a king during the ninth century (before Christ). I served as the king of Israel for almost forty years. During that time I had the amazing temple of Solomon built in the city of Jerusalem. This amazing temple was used to house the Ark of the Covenant. In my rule I organized the nation of Israel into twelve different tribes as well as twelve administrative districts, one for each tribe.
I was widely known for being one of the wisest men on the planet. One famous story about me is the two woman who both claim a baby belongs to them. I decided to cut the baby in half, but when one woman decided to give the baby to the other woman to save the baby, I deduced that she was the real mother and gave the baby to her. I have also written the “song of songs,” as well as the book of Ecclesiastes, in the bible.

Monday, February 7, 2011

The Fates Bio

We are three sisters known as the Fates, or the Moirae. We control the destiny of man and god alike. Klotho, meaning "spinner", spins the thread of life. Lachesis, meaning "caster of lots", measures the thread of life. Atropus. meaning "unbending", cuts the thread of life. It is unclear who our parents are. Some say we are the daughters of Erebus and Nyx, while others say we are the daughters of Zeus and Themis. While we are considered the most powerful of the gods, Zeus can change our decisions, and we can occasionally be manipulated.