Sorry I was a little late posting this assignment...
I am working with some people putting together a Thanksgiving care package for soldiers in Afghanistan. Your assignment this week is to come up with a poem (or short story!) about Thanksgiving or Autumn (maybe a happy Thanksgiving moment? Or a descriptive piece about autumn leaves on the ground?)
Bonus points if you come up with a poem IN FORM (sonnet, villanelle, sestina, a SERIES of haikus, etc) or a short story that is more than two pages in Microsoft Word.
Sunday, September 26, 2010
Saturday, September 18, 2010
New Journal to Submit To..
A new literary journal based out of Richmond/Midlothian area. I encourage you all to submit!!
http://www.hulltown.com/index.html
http://www.hulltown.com/index.html
Friday, September 17, 2010
Blogging Assignment: Due September 23, 2010
In Beowulf, the narrator goes into extensive detail about important artifacts in the story (swords, battle armor, horses, etc). Choose something of importance in your life and write an extensive history about the object. The key word being "extensive" (I am looking for more than 20 lines). This can be a prose piece or a poem (either one you choose has to be over 20 lines). The title of the piece must be the name of the object (do not include the word "my" in the title).
Example:
Violin
In 1926 in a small town in Germany lies
A discreet violin shop down an old dirt road
(I guess most roads were dirt back then).
A man finishes the carvings on the elaborate scroll.
His dulled tool pushes up,
Carving indentions into the smooth cheery wood
(A tree some 120 years old cut down outside the man's cottage).
The man is wary and old
Reserved, yet sensible. He wanted to make one
"Just like zee Strativarious" (the infamous violins
Sold for millions of dollars).
But this man didn't have the talent of Antonio
Stardivari, or so he said on his
Death bed. 85 winters pass,
And the violin has been places and seen things,
Gotten scars and bruises, until the Appraiser decides it is
"A Strativarious-Similar"
And declares it worth $5,000.
On Forest Hill Ave, Richmond, Virginia it waits
For someone to notice -
The egg-white and honey veneer.
The battle wounds from years of being abused by a young girl in Paris (who likely shouldn't have been allowed such an expensive toy)
The blood stain from the teenager in St. Louis who "didn't have what it takes."
Or the unhappiness of the old man
Who died thinking it was no where near as good as Strativarious.
Example:
Violin
In 1926 in a small town in Germany lies
A discreet violin shop down an old dirt road
(I guess most roads were dirt back then).
A man finishes the carvings on the elaborate scroll.
His dulled tool pushes up,
Carving indentions into the smooth cheery wood
(A tree some 120 years old cut down outside the man's cottage).
The man is wary and old
Reserved, yet sensible. He wanted to make one
"Just like zee Strativarious" (the infamous violins
Sold for millions of dollars).
But this man didn't have the talent of Antonio
Stardivari, or so he said on his
Death bed. 85 winters pass,
And the violin has been places and seen things,
Gotten scars and bruises, until the Appraiser decides it is
"A Strativarious-Similar"
And declares it worth $5,000.
On Forest Hill Ave, Richmond, Virginia it waits
For someone to notice -
The egg-white and honey veneer.
The battle wounds from years of being abused by a young girl in Paris (who likely shouldn't have been allowed such an expensive toy)
The blood stain from the teenager in St. Louis who "didn't have what it takes."
Or the unhappiness of the old man
Who died thinking it was no where near as good as Strativarious.
Friday, September 10, 2010
Teen Ink
Hello class!
For the extra credit...if you cannot find a place to submit on the list I posted, you can also submit here:
http://www.teenink.com/submit
For the extra credit...if you cannot find a place to submit on the list I posted, you can also submit here:
http://www.teenink.com/submit
Thursday, September 9, 2010
Blogging Assignment: Due September 16, 2010
Read about found poetry on Wikipedia:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Found_poetry
Create your own "found poem" using only words or phrases from Beowulf. You cannot add your own words! The words and phrases do not have to be in order of the poem, you may rearrange them however you like, and the topic of your poem can be your choice.
Example:
Defeat
a suckling child,
fearless of sorrow,
refused consent for the feud.
" pact of peace," spake in answer
To folk afar
"but with gripe alone must I front the fiend and fight for life."
awaits he ever...
labored in woe for the loss.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Found_poetry
Create your own "found poem" using only words or phrases from Beowulf. You cannot add your own words! The words and phrases do not have to be in order of the poem, you may rearrange them however you like, and the topic of your poem can be your choice.
Example:
Defeat
a suckling child,
fearless of sorrow,
refused consent for the feud.
" pact of peace," spake in answer
To folk afar
"but with gripe alone must I front the fiend and fight for life."
awaits he ever...
labored in woe for the loss.
Intolerance
Basks in the wrath of reluctance
and refusal. It lingers...
A young Asian boy sneaks to his corner
of the brick rancher house on Washington and 3rd.
He pauses before he paints
his thumb-nail black, then red, then black again.
And his father comes
slaps him across the cheek
The rose-colored flesh radiates with heat
And the mark lingers...
Meanwhile
A forty-something White man signs in his corner
of the shiny-squared office building on Jefferson and H.
He hesitates before he presses "call"
on his cellphone, then "end," then "call" again
And his mother answers,
"You shoulda never married that Black girl, Jummy."
Click.
And the dial tone lingers...
Intolerance.
Maybe it isn't reluctance or refusal
maybe it is fear.
Everytime I open my mouth or
write with my pen
someone calls me angry or
someone calls me a hero.
I am not angry.
I am not a hero.
I was just born
this way. Fighting, hoping, and then
fighting again.
In - tolerance.
Tolerance. In
tolernace.
Those two letters can be life or death, happiness or depression...
And yet still
the "in" lingers,
masks the world in a deep fog.
And we -
we "human beings" -
we bask in the fog
until someone brave enough comes along,
turns on a light, and we say
"Yeah. Uh-huh. I like that person."
Until the light runs out
And we breathe deep again
Into the lingering fog that won't settle.
and refusal. It lingers...
A young Asian boy sneaks to his corner
of the brick rancher house on Washington and 3rd.
He pauses before he paints
his thumb-nail black, then red, then black again.
And his father comes
slaps him across the cheek
The rose-colored flesh radiates with heat
And the mark lingers...
Meanwhile
A forty-something White man signs in his corner
of the shiny-squared office building on Jefferson and H.
He hesitates before he presses "call"
on his cellphone, then "end," then "call" again
And his mother answers,
"You shoulda never married that Black girl, Jummy."
Click.
And the dial tone lingers...
Intolerance.
Maybe it isn't reluctance or refusal
maybe it is fear.
Everytime I open my mouth or
write with my pen
someone calls me angry or
someone calls me a hero.
I am not angry.
I am not a hero.
I was just born
this way. Fighting, hoping, and then
fighting again.
In - tolerance.
Tolerance. In
tolernace.
Those two letters can be life or death, happiness or depression...
And yet still
the "in" lingers,
masks the world in a deep fog.
And we -
we "human beings" -
we bask in the fog
until someone brave enough comes along,
turns on a light, and we say
"Yeah. Uh-huh. I like that person."
Until the light runs out
And we breathe deep again
Into the lingering fog that won't settle.
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