A ring, floats so heavenly through the air
Falls into darkness, plunges to sin.
Perfect, spherical, its shape forebears,
An omen of circles and life it transmits
Circles in circles, round within round,
Its form tells a tale of life and then death
Or is it from death that life has abound?
From a baby’s first cry, to it’s final breath.
Light as a feather, dense as a weight,
This shape has caught your hungry mind.
It is in this, that you cast your hate,
But at the same time, you love it divine.
What is this circle? I’ll have you know,
It is nothing more than a ring made of dough.
In the beginning of my poem, I tried to make the ring seem like some sort of mysterious object, a halo, or maybe a ring of power (Lord of the Rings). Using words like forbear, and omen, I tried to make it a little ominous and dark. The first two lines are meant to contrast each other, using heavenly and darkness. It also is secretly describing a doughnut’s journey to the display racks, a bag, and finally, into the stomach. It’s fall through the air reflects its path from the oven to the warm display racks, and it’s plunge to darkness and sin shows it falling into the dim recesses of the stomach, and becoming evil fat.
Next, I tried to give meaning to the round shape, and make it seem even more surreal and dark. Talking about death and life and circles made it sound deep. This was the most profound meaning that I could draw from something like a doughnut. After, the next four lines move away from this philosophical stuff, and move more to the nature of the doughnut. A doughnut conjures up images of light, fluffy sweet dough; while at the same time has many negative connotations of weight gain.
Now, almost everyone likes to eat doughnuts, but they are almost always portrayed as EVIL because they are bad for you. That being said, it is very hard for someone to resist a doughnut. Even the shape draws you in. if it were just a hunk of glazed sweet bread, it would not be nearly as appealing as this wonderful ring shape.
I also hinted at the fact that you eat the doughnut by saying that your mind is hungry for it. It could be that your mind is yearning for this mystery, or you are simply hungry for doughnut. Many people hate doughnuts because they are “fattening” and you throw your hatred at it. However, you still enjoy it, and one might say you even love it. The last lines simply spell out the nature of this mysterious ring, a doughnut.
In this poem, I really wanted to make lots of contrasts. The dark and heavy beginning to the light ending was one that I made, as well as life and death as a contrast, and also a connection. I started my poem with a deep dark meaning. Life and death are not in a line, but a circle. This was the idea behind the beginning of the poem. Later, I transitioned into a lighter note on the nature of the doughnut. I did not make all of my lines 10 syllables, because I felt that the irregularity reflected the differences, and I was also creating a contrast between the perfection of the subject matter and the imperfection of the lines. Plus, it just sounded better that way.
Originally, I had written a sonnet about something else, something that I have already forgotten about. (It wasn’t very good.) Then, when I brought it in the next day, I found that Alex had written about a waffle dog. I overheard his discussion with Mrs. Shigemitsu about how to write an analysis paper on waffle dogs. I knew that my original poem/idea wasn’t descriptive enough, and was already fishing around for a new sonnet topic. This idea really struck me.
Recently, I began to use the poetry method of describing something, but not revealing its nature until the end. This helps to reveal important truths about the thing, and can also be used to make metaphors. I like giving things double meanings. I decided to take on the challenge, as Alex did, to write a poem about the significance of a seemingly mundane object. Food seemed like a good choice, so I decided to use a doughnut.
In my sonnet, I was trying to get across that even though something appears serious and dark, you could still take a positive outlook on it. Now a doughnut is not exactly a positive outlook, but it is light and a little humorous. Not everything is what it immediately appears to be. Fun can be found in anything, so, like my poem did, lighten up.
Saturday, April 14, 2007
Sunday, April 1, 2007
Sonnet
Heavenly Ring
A ring, floats so heavenly through the air
Falls into darkness, plunges to sin.
Perfect, spherical, its shape forebears,
An omen of circles and life it transmits
Circles in circles, round within round,
Its form tells a tale of life and then death
Or is it from death that life has abound?
From a baby’s first cry, to it’s final breath.
Light as a feather, dense as a weight,
This shape has caught your hungry mind.
It is in this, that you cast your hate,
But at the same time, you love it divine.
What is this circle? I’ll have you know,
It is nothing more than a ring made of dough.
A ring, floats so heavenly through the air
Falls into darkness, plunges to sin.
Perfect, spherical, its shape forebears,
An omen of circles and life it transmits
Circles in circles, round within round,
Its form tells a tale of life and then death
Or is it from death that life has abound?
From a baby’s first cry, to it’s final breath.
Light as a feather, dense as a weight,
This shape has caught your hungry mind.
It is in this, that you cast your hate,
But at the same time, you love it divine.
What is this circle? I’ll have you know,
It is nothing more than a ring made of dough.
Wednesday, March 7, 2007
I am the Messanger
By Markus Zusak
great, funny, cool, interesting, intriuging book. about a guy who, by pure luck, stops a bank robbery. he then begins to recieve mysterious playing card aces in the mail, with names. some are to be "taken care of", others, to be helped. Ed is the messenger.
that was mine, just to see if i could kinda do it. heres the book's:
Protect the Diamonds
Survive the Clubs
Dig Deep through the Spades
Feel the Hearts
Ed Kennedy is an underage cabdriver without much of a future. He's pathetic at playing cards, hopelessly in love with his best friend, Audrey, and utterly devoted to his coffee-drinking dog, the Doorman. His life is one of peaceful routine and incompetence until he unadvertently stops a bank robbery.
Thats when the first ace arrives in the mail.
Thats when Ed becomes the messanger.
Chosen to care, he makes his way through town helping and hurting(when neccesary) until only one question remains: who's behind Ed's mission?
The story premise might sound pretty weird, but its for sure the most fun book ive ever read. really cool.
great, funny, cool, interesting, intriuging book. about a guy who, by pure luck, stops a bank robbery. he then begins to recieve mysterious playing card aces in the mail, with names. some are to be "taken care of", others, to be helped. Ed is the messenger.
that was mine, just to see if i could kinda do it. heres the book's:
Protect the Diamonds
Survive the Clubs
Dig Deep through the Spades
Feel the Hearts
Ed Kennedy is an underage cabdriver without much of a future. He's pathetic at playing cards, hopelessly in love with his best friend, Audrey, and utterly devoted to his coffee-drinking dog, the Doorman. His life is one of peaceful routine and incompetence until he unadvertently stops a bank robbery.
Thats when the first ace arrives in the mail.
Thats when Ed becomes the messanger.
Chosen to care, he makes his way through town helping and hurting(when neccesary) until only one question remains: who's behind Ed's mission?
The story premise might sound pretty weird, but its for sure the most fun book ive ever read. really cool.
Yet another
Ok so i read this great book called the burn journals, by Brent Runyon. The thing that amazed me about this book was that i read it, and was kinda sad, but i told myself, its only fiction. but then, i read it more carefully, and realized this is non-fiction. the guy acually did this. ok, story synopsis:
Brent Runyon was fourteen years old when he set himself on fire.
In The Burn Jounals, Runyon describes that devastating suicide attempt and his recovery, both physical and psychological, over the following year. He shares his story wth such unflinching honesty that we understand--with a terrible clarity--what it means to want to kill yourself and how it feels to struggle back to normality.
Intense, exposed, insightful, The Burn Journals is a deeply personal story with universal reach. It is impossible to look away. Impossible not to remain unmoved.
So, this book is kinda depressing, and yet, at points, incredibly uplifting. its very gripping. check it out if you want, but don't read part and then put it down. you have to finish it.
Brent Runyon was fourteen years old when he set himself on fire.
In The Burn Jounals, Runyon describes that devastating suicide attempt and his recovery, both physical and psychological, over the following year. He shares his story wth such unflinching honesty that we understand--with a terrible clarity--what it means to want to kill yourself and how it feels to struggle back to normality.
Intense, exposed, insightful, The Burn Journals is a deeply personal story with universal reach. It is impossible to look away. Impossible not to remain unmoved.
So, this book is kinda depressing, and yet, at points, incredibly uplifting. its very gripping. check it out if you want, but don't read part and then put it down. you have to finish it.
Tuesday, February 27, 2007
A Good Book
Catch, by Will Leitch
A very deep, thought provoking book. really enjoyed it. about some guy who finished high school and his summer before colledge. really cool book. probably my favorite.
A very deep, thought provoking book. really enjoyed it. about some guy who finished high school and his summer before colledge. really cool book. probably my favorite.
A Good Book
Here is 2 good books i read recently that i thought people might enjoy:
Freshman by Michael Gerber: Hart Fox might not have the pedigree to be a shoo-in at Stutts, a prestigious Ivy League school, but he has the grades and the resume. And he does make it in-sort of. His acceptance is hijacked by Burligton Darling III, a wealthy alum, who is so desperate to get his hapless son, Trip, into Stutts that he funds a new boathouse. Darling also offers to get Hart a spot in the freshman class, and pay his way, if Hart will take all Trip's classes for him.
Despite this deal with the devil, in September, Hart walks ont the Stutts campus jubilant. But what awaits him is a strange parallel univers of secret societies, class hierachies, and inexplicable traditions. On any given day at Stutts, the math department might discover that the number 9 doesn't really exist; an English professor might prove that Shakespeare's plays had been penned by a potbellied pig; or worried grad students might be chasing an escaped black hole.
hart dreams of building his resume at the college newspaper. But instead, he finds himself aligned with the outcasts of an all-but-defunct school humor magazine. Along the way he learns about the joys of decimating beer-can pyramids, the horrors of being "rusticated," and even falls in love-with a preppy vampire.
Groundbreaking, hilarious, and surprising, Freshman marks the teen fiction debut of a gifted writer.
this is a funny book. btw, the above was from the cover flap. this is a great book, especially for my classmates who don't read too often for fun.
Freshman by Michael Gerber: Hart Fox might not have the pedigree to be a shoo-in at Stutts, a prestigious Ivy League school, but he has the grades and the resume. And he does make it in-sort of. His acceptance is hijacked by Burligton Darling III, a wealthy alum, who is so desperate to get his hapless son, Trip, into Stutts that he funds a new boathouse. Darling also offers to get Hart a spot in the freshman class, and pay his way, if Hart will take all Trip's classes for him.
Despite this deal with the devil, in September, Hart walks ont the Stutts campus jubilant. But what awaits him is a strange parallel univers of secret societies, class hierachies, and inexplicable traditions. On any given day at Stutts, the math department might discover that the number 9 doesn't really exist; an English professor might prove that Shakespeare's plays had been penned by a potbellied pig; or worried grad students might be chasing an escaped black hole.
hart dreams of building his resume at the college newspaper. But instead, he finds himself aligned with the outcasts of an all-but-defunct school humor magazine. Along the way he learns about the joys of decimating beer-can pyramids, the horrors of being "rusticated," and even falls in love-with a preppy vampire.
Groundbreaking, hilarious, and surprising, Freshman marks the teen fiction debut of a gifted writer.
this is a funny book. btw, the above was from the cover flap. this is a great book, especially for my classmates who don't read too often for fun.
My Heritage Paper
It’s Friday. I’m looking forward to the usual weekend night of video games, ice cream, and general laziness. Plopping down on the couch, I flick the TV on, immersing myself into the mindless drone of the news. But alas, it was not to be.
“Why aren’t you ready yet?” my dad yelled from his room. “We leave in 10 minutes!”
Leaving? Wait; hold on a second, where are we going? We don’t have anything… Oh. That’s right, were going to our grandparent’s retirement home again. We just went on Sunday!
With a sigh, I switch off the wonderful, blaring box, and walk slowly to my room, spying through a door my mother screaming at my brother because is shirt is too wrinkled. Grabbing a dusty pair of dress pants from the closet, I rush to the door.
The retirement home is like a hotel, lavishly decorated and bright. Reaching the dining room, we greet our grandparents with hugs and hellos. We are quickly ushered to our table, and pull open the menus.
***
When is the food gonna come? I nibble on the bread, tapping my foot in impatience. The adults are talking about some other dinner tomorrow. Great. Staring off into space, I realize my grandpa is talking.
“Have I ever told you boys about the time I went to Europe? Well, it was during WWII, nearing its end in 1945 and I had a chance to enlist, to see the world. Now, I had many choices for my future; Japan, China, I even had a chance to enlist in the illustrious 442nd. But in the end, I chose to join in on some obscure guard duty in France…”
I zone out. I’ve already heard this one many times, and I still remember him telling me last time, even if he doesn’t. For a while, I stare at the ice, bobbing up and down in my glass.
“Me and my friends were just out of school, and were going to choose were to go. Now, I said to all of them: lets go to Europe, to see all the famous landmarks and sights. But my friends said no. My pal Ernest told me that it wasn’t worth it. why not just go wherever they told you, or better yet, the 442! You could get real famous there.”
“So, I set off on my own. Everywhere I went there, I was the only Oriental person there. This was more of a tour of Europe than a fight, and I was happy with that. I went to see the Eiffel Tower, Venice, and Rome. I even went to the isle of Capri, into the famous Blue Grotto. You know where that is, don’t you? It was amazing. Turquoise water, all around, and a tunnel so small that you had to lie down in the boat to get through, even at low tide. Its closed down now, too dangerous. Its things like that I went to the war for.
“But what war was there? Everyone was starting to go home to America now, and I was in a group that was pulling out soon too. The war was winding down. All I did after my adventures was guard some base in France for a few months, and that was it. Shipped back, with not a touch of war on me.”
This was the same old story as before, but for some reason, it hit me this time. My grandfather had actually done all these things! It wasn’t just some old story; it was part of his life. Nothing I have ever done in my short existence could even compare to that! The food had come, but I ignored it. I sat and eagerly awaited that familiar ending.
“When I came home, I met up with my friend Earnest again. This time, he was really down looking.
“What’s wrong?” I asked him. He told me how much he regretted not taking that chance with me.
“You know, in those days, boys, people just didn’t travel. It cost too much, and it was really hard to do. Only in the military could you hope to see any sights. Now Earnest, he was a really sorry looking sight, with all his mumbling and grumbling. Well, I had told him, but he just wouldn’t listen. I grabbed at this chance, and others, and never regretted any of them. So remember, when it comes to taking a chance, a leap out into the air, even if no one else follows.”
Wow. This was really the most morally strong ending I’ve heard in a while. But this time, it actually did something. It opened my eyes to all the could-haves in my live, and made me promise myself to take any chances I get. The dinner laying cold and forgotten on the plate, I leaned forward in my chair, to hear the rest of his tales.
“Why aren’t you ready yet?” my dad yelled from his room. “We leave in 10 minutes!”
Leaving? Wait; hold on a second, where are we going? We don’t have anything… Oh. That’s right, were going to our grandparent’s retirement home again. We just went on Sunday!
With a sigh, I switch off the wonderful, blaring box, and walk slowly to my room, spying through a door my mother screaming at my brother because is shirt is too wrinkled. Grabbing a dusty pair of dress pants from the closet, I rush to the door.
The retirement home is like a hotel, lavishly decorated and bright. Reaching the dining room, we greet our grandparents with hugs and hellos. We are quickly ushered to our table, and pull open the menus.
***
When is the food gonna come? I nibble on the bread, tapping my foot in impatience. The adults are talking about some other dinner tomorrow. Great. Staring off into space, I realize my grandpa is talking.
“Have I ever told you boys about the time I went to Europe? Well, it was during WWII, nearing its end in 1945 and I had a chance to enlist, to see the world. Now, I had many choices for my future; Japan, China, I even had a chance to enlist in the illustrious 442nd. But in the end, I chose to join in on some obscure guard duty in France…”
I zone out. I’ve already heard this one many times, and I still remember him telling me last time, even if he doesn’t. For a while, I stare at the ice, bobbing up and down in my glass.
“Me and my friends were just out of school, and were going to choose were to go. Now, I said to all of them: lets go to Europe, to see all the famous landmarks and sights. But my friends said no. My pal Ernest told me that it wasn’t worth it. why not just go wherever they told you, or better yet, the 442! You could get real famous there.”
“So, I set off on my own. Everywhere I went there, I was the only Oriental person there. This was more of a tour of Europe than a fight, and I was happy with that. I went to see the Eiffel Tower, Venice, and Rome. I even went to the isle of Capri, into the famous Blue Grotto. You know where that is, don’t you? It was amazing. Turquoise water, all around, and a tunnel so small that you had to lie down in the boat to get through, even at low tide. Its closed down now, too dangerous. Its things like that I went to the war for.
“But what war was there? Everyone was starting to go home to America now, and I was in a group that was pulling out soon too. The war was winding down. All I did after my adventures was guard some base in France for a few months, and that was it. Shipped back, with not a touch of war on me.”
This was the same old story as before, but for some reason, it hit me this time. My grandfather had actually done all these things! It wasn’t just some old story; it was part of his life. Nothing I have ever done in my short existence could even compare to that! The food had come, but I ignored it. I sat and eagerly awaited that familiar ending.
“When I came home, I met up with my friend Earnest again. This time, he was really down looking.
“What’s wrong?” I asked him. He told me how much he regretted not taking that chance with me.
“You know, in those days, boys, people just didn’t travel. It cost too much, and it was really hard to do. Only in the military could you hope to see any sights. Now Earnest, he was a really sorry looking sight, with all his mumbling and grumbling. Well, I had told him, but he just wouldn’t listen. I grabbed at this chance, and others, and never regretted any of them. So remember, when it comes to taking a chance, a leap out into the air, even if no one else follows.”
Wow. This was really the most morally strong ending I’ve heard in a while. But this time, it actually did something. It opened my eyes to all the could-haves in my live, and made me promise myself to take any chances I get. The dinner laying cold and forgotten on the plate, I leaned forward in my chair, to hear the rest of his tales.
Monday, February 26, 2007
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