Thursday, April 29, 2010
The Beauty of Nature
Description: Its an eye catcher even for the blind, its the first thing we see when we look out of windows at the crack of dawn, its the thing we admire at sunset, the first dewdrop in morning, its the last bit of light at the end of the day. Here are some poems written by various poets with this idea in mind.
Synopsis: A few poems about the beauty of Nature
Poems:
The Sick Rose by William Blake
A Red Red Rose by Robert Burns
A Country Path In Late spring by Mark R Slaughter
Dust of Snow by Robert Frost
To a Butterfly by William Wordsworth
Petals by Amy Lowell
Loveliest of Trees by A. E. Housman
Of Nature I shall have enough by Emily Dickinson
Tuesday, April 27, 2010
Time
Hours, minuets, seconds
they all seem
either never ending
or
ninety miles an hour.
a clock, two hands,
long and short.
Why is it
that time,
always,
goes by so slowly
while were
bored.
And when your having fun
time goes by
as fast as a bullet.
why?
they all seem
either never ending
or
ninety miles an hour.
a clock, two hands,
long and short.
Why is it
that time,
always,
goes by so slowly
while were
bored.
And when your having fun
time goes by
as fast as a bullet.
why?
Tuesday, April 13, 2010
WINDY DAY
Windy days are like a rough time through life.
It is constantly moving forward, even when it feels its not.
Never does it stop or even pause, it keep blowing forward, some
Days it feels like its never going to end.
Yes, it always does eventually.
Doesn't slack,
And doesn't speed up,
Yet, its always going to be paced.
Monday, April 12, 2010
BLUEBELLS
Beautiful as they look,
Lovely as they seem,
Ubiquitous as they are,
Elegant as they should be.
Blue bells in the cold morning air, surrounded by
Evan stands of scattered lush green grass with unbelievable, tiny,
Little, round dew drops scattered here and there.
Lovely as the cold morning breeze these flowers may seem, just
Suppose if they were natures graciously, majestic, never ending beauty.
Sunday, April 11, 2010
BALBOA
Belongings clashing through the air tight hallway. Everyone rushing to their next class without a tardy on their name.
Always scrambling to one and others lockers for the ten books we need for the next three classes.
Longing for the end of the day to come we push through, chattering our heads off.
Because everyone has piles of homework for each class we struggle to get it done by the end of the day; always squeezing some in during lunch and the spare time in between classes.
Of course we get it all done by the end of the day and get rewarded by the end of the day with encouraging words.
At the end of the day we all feel tired and drowsy but we know that we did well.
Always scrambling to one and others lockers for the ten books we need for the next three classes.
Longing for the end of the day to come we push through, chattering our heads off.
Because everyone has piles of homework for each class we struggle to get it done by the end of the day; always squeezing some in during lunch and the spare time in between classes.
Of course we get it all done by the end of the day and get rewarded by the end of the day with encouraging words.
At the end of the day we all feel tired and drowsy but we know that we did well.
Inspiring . . .
The Chimney Sweeper
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 & in soot I sleep.
Theres little Tom Dacre, who cried when his head
That curled like a lambs back was shav'd, so I said.
Hush Tom never mind it, for when your head's bare,
You know that the soot cannot spoil your white hair
And so he was quiet. & that very night.
As Tom was a sleeping he had such a sight
That thousands of sweepers Dick, Joe, Ned, & Jack
Were all of them lock'd up in coffins of black,
And by came an Angel who had a bright key
And he open'd the coffins & 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 & 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 & never want joy.
And so Tom awoke and we rose in the dark
And got with our bags & our brushes to work.
Tho' the morning was cold, Tom was happy & warm
So if all do their duty, they need not fear harm.
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 & in soot I sleep.
Theres little Tom Dacre, who cried when his head
That curled like a lambs back was shav'd, so I said.
Hush Tom never mind it, for when your head's bare,
You know that the soot cannot spoil your white hair
And so he was quiet. & that very night.
As Tom was a sleeping he had such a sight
That thousands of sweepers Dick, Joe, Ned, & Jack
Were all of them lock'd up in coffins of black,
And by came an Angel who had a bright key
And he open'd the coffins & 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 & 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 & never want joy.
And so Tom awoke and we rose in the dark
And got with our bags & our brushes to work.
Tho' the morning was cold, Tom was happy & warm
So if all do their duty, they need not fear harm.
POETRY
Particularly I think that all great poems are made with loads of imagery, passion, and lots of stanzas full of words that can sometimes be hard to decode.
Often when you read them and its like the words flow all the way off the edges of the paper.
Every thing the author has go to do with imagination goes into these creative pieces of inspiring writing.
Try and read one great piece of poetry without being overcome with emotion.
Really everything is put together with metaphors and repetitions, to make the poem linger through your head for a reasonable time to actually process it and understand it and enjoy it.
Yes, I like poems because how the author writes it, not just about who wrote it or the title, but the words he puts together and as I said how he writes it.
Often when you read them and its like the words flow all the way off the edges of the paper.
Every thing the author has go to do with imagination goes into these creative pieces of inspiring writing.
Try and read one great piece of poetry without being overcome with emotion.
Really everything is put together with metaphors and repetitions, to make the poem linger through your head for a reasonable time to actually process it and understand it and enjoy it.
Yes, I like poems because how the author writes it, not just about who wrote it or the title, but the words he puts together and as I said how he writes it.
Sunday, April 4, 2010
Percy Jackson & The Olympians The Lightning Theif
Percy Jackson (Logan Lerman)has a HUGE problem, hes been accused of steeling Zeus's (Sean Bean)ever so precious lightning bolt. Who would ever do such a thing. Watch this amazing film to find out why and how!
Ever wonder what its like being the son or daughter of a God-- a demigod? Percy Jackson is one of them, without knowing it until his mother Sally Jackson (Catherine Keener)takes him ti a camp called Halfboold hill; where all demigods, satyrs, nymphs, and mermaids stay for the whole year round or just for the summer. While he was rushing on his way there with his mother and Grover (Brandon T. Jackson)--Percy's best friend-- they got attacked by a minotaur (an animal 1/4 human and 3/4 bull). It "killed" Percy's mother, or so he thought.
He got to Halfblood Hill where everyone immediantley knew who he was, son of Posiden(Kevin McKidd). As soon as he gets settled in, he was offered a quest that he decides to take. Percy has to find return a lightning bolt to Zeus. One of the places that Percy decides to look for the lightning blot is the underworld, that's where he decides to try and get his mother back. He only has a certain amount of days. Come and watch him and his friends battle Medusa and try and kill off a three headed monster, and many more exiting things.
I like how the director (Chris Columbus) made Grover (as well as Percys friend his protector)bring out his character more in the movie rather than in the book. He had more of a personality when Percy discovers that hes a satyr--half goat on the bottom half of him.
One thing I don't like about this movie is that they should of paid more attention to how the characters looked. In the book Annabeth (Alexandra Daddario)(daughter of Athena ans Percy's friend)had Honey comb blond colored hair and in the movie its brunette.
I really recommend this movie to people who love adventure and fantasy.I also think that it can be summed up in one word, fantastic!
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