Students will read works by several contemporary authors in a variety of writing genres. These works will serve as a source of style and technique from which students can model their own writing. Authors studied include: Anne Michaels, Tim O'Brien, Stewart O'Nan, Barbara Kingsolver, Michael Cunningham, Rita Dove, David Sedaris, Jasper Fforde, Christopher Moore,
Cormac McCarthy and David Guterson, plus several poets and short fiction writers.
The holy ghost: Smoke plumes folding Over and into one another, Expanding, Our eyes wide, Glazed over with numbness, Seeing for the first time What we are capable of.
This is what we have made. Our baby brilliant and luminescent, Red and black clouds of power.
The Scientist takes off his fedora, But can’t move to loosen his tie – Caught in slow motion, The world pauses to realize it has become something it was not 1 second before.
I am become death, the destroyer of worlds, he says. Like Eve and the apple, The nakedness is gone.
Pendle, your poem is really good. Who or what are you writing about? I have no idea. But other than that I love the flow and rythm of the poem. I think the very last stanza is really interesting. I am interested in reading the rest of your poems.
A predator outside his cage, and cornered she bowed her head, fingers intertwined and twisting like A Chain Of Molecules. Left and right, barricaded between arms, she pressed back almost into the glass until she believed
His fingers were the Steady Drums Of The Natives
Playing her spine like a xylophone, each nerve at attention her heart in her throat, words trapped inside her gullet, stomach churning.
A push and the beast only Pushed Back
Her shoulders tensed like a scolded child and her eyes smacked shut like the blinds when the sick passed on.
He sighed against her hair, and she jumped this time she was lucky, the predator coiled back into his cage.
William, Awesome poem. I don't think I have ever read a poem about a teddy bear before. I really like the second and third stanzas. I can really get a picture in my head from these two stanzas.
A True Underdog Story Scare, frightened and I don’t think we are not ready Can I do this, Can we do this? I waited my whole life for this one moment, So why am I not ready? That’s what the experts say; we are true underdogs We are David and they are Goliath Opening kickoff we look at each other with a glare We receive the ball and we make it a good one Thinking now we could probably do this
Two quarters down we are putting the fight of our life They seem tired and old This sport comes down to who wants it more Do we? Coach smacks us on the butts, showing emotion Defense acting like they’re offensive players Maybe we do. Everything is working, our families are watching us play are hardest Coach is happy, we are happy, our fans are happy So why are we not winning?
The last quarter we are down by three We need to show everyone that we can Eli threw a pass to Tyreek; it was the greatest catch ever I jumped up with joy like a little kid finding his long lost dog Two minutes left, we have all the momentum Plaxico wants the ball and he’s going to get it Eli looks at him; Plaxico shakes the defender All of our dreams in these two men hands Eli throws him the ball and Plaxico catches it for a touchdown He bends down like he’s praying to lord, saying thank you Thank you, for all the experts doubting us Thank you, for us having us struggle to get were we are at right now Thank you, letting us face a 17-0 team Thank you, for letting us get this Super Bowl
To answer your question about my poem, it's about the testing of the atomic bomb in the New Mexico Desert. The name of the test sight was called "Trinity", so I was making a reference to the name of the bomb sight. Thanks for your feedback!
Streaks burn blue-white, hot against wide eyes, backs against cool grass, locked together like a lacertine, it takes a while to find the head; the tail; whose heart belongs to whom?
Dig, mud covered cheeks, You saved me over and over, pitching forward, I need to untangle myself again.
Ink smudges against the skies, only shooting stars leaving scrapes against the infinite canvas, reflecting in eyes made of lapis lazuli, almost precious, but still all the more valuable, because they are wordless but still scream to me. No need to say those words again, you saved me instead.
15 comments:
William Keller
Teddy Bear,
Warm brown fur,
Larger than I
Nuzzling
My soft skin
To sleep.
Soft breaths,
A curious face
Masticating a pacifier:
Why is he with my bear?
The thing three feet tall
On my soft skin.
I roll over.
The face stares;
Long outgrown the
Pacifier he holds.
The stuffed Elmo
On his shoulder,
Staring with blank eyes.
My Uncle’s Hand
By: Hanna Amireh
Feeling of loneliness,
A hand moves my way.
I turn towards it,
Allowing it to protect me.
A shield, my shield,
Pushes harm away.
As did my previous fathers
He has accepted this, me,
Just another to love.
Trinity
The holy ghost:
Smoke plumes folding
Over and into one another,
Expanding,
Our eyes wide,
Glazed over with numbness,
Seeing for the first time
What we are capable of.
This is what we have made.
Our baby brilliant and luminescent,
Red and black clouds of power.
The Scientist takes off his fedora,
But can’t move to loosen his tie –
Caught in slow motion,
The world pauses to realize
it has become something it was not
1 second before.
I am become death, the destroyer of worlds,
he says.
Like Eve and the apple,
The nakedness is gone.
~ Pendle Marshall-Hallmark
Rhine
Spring
already, and the fishermen
are draped in fish-colored stench,
their nets catching
on morning mist.
A tuft of brown
from across the morning
staining the water dark chocolate,
the fishermen raise their heads.
Robert rising early
each morning Mendelssohn
hair frayed
as if the notes came
screaming out of his scalp.
Cacophony
was always meant for anger.
“Please, Robert,
don’t wake the children.”
His hair streaming now,
cheeks molding grey,
spine a crooked arc against the morning.
And the fishermen stumbling
under his weight.
The sky is bleeding now,
bleeding her skin rosy.
On the sloping river bank,
still trying
“hang on.”
Pendle, your poem is really good. Who or what are you writing about? I have no idea. But other than that I love the flow and rythm of the poem. I think the very last stanza is really interesting. I am interested in reading the rest of your poems.
Saber Tooth
A predator outside his cage,
and cornered she
bowed her head, fingers intertwined
and twisting
like
A
Chain
Of
Molecules.
Left and right,
barricaded between arms,
she pressed back
almost into the glass
until she believed
His fingers were
the Steady
Drums
Of
The
Natives
Playing her spine like a xylophone,
each nerve at attention
her heart in her throat,
words trapped inside her
gullet, stomach churning.
A push and
the beast only
Pushed
Back
Her shoulders tensed like
a scolded child
and her eyes smacked shut
like the blinds when the sick
passed on.
He sighed
against her hair,
and she jumped
this time she was lucky,
the predator
coiled back
into his cage.
William, Awesome poem. I don't think I have ever read a poem about a teddy bear before. I really like the second and third stanzas. I can really get a picture in my head from these two stanzas.
A True Underdog Story
Scare, frightened and I don’t think we are not ready
Can I do this, Can we do this?
I waited my whole life for this one moment,
So why am I not ready?
That’s what the experts say; we are true underdogs
We are David and they are Goliath
Opening kickoff we look at each other with a glare
We receive the ball and we make it a good one
Thinking now we could probably do this
Two quarters down we are putting the fight of our life
They seem tired and old
This sport comes down to who wants it more
Do we?
Coach smacks us on the butts, showing emotion
Defense acting like they’re offensive players
Maybe we do.
Everything is working, our families are watching us play are hardest
Coach is happy, we are happy, our fans are happy
So why are we not winning?
The last quarter we are down by three
We need to show everyone that we can
Eli threw a pass to Tyreek; it was the greatest catch ever
I jumped up with joy like a little kid finding his long lost dog
Two minutes left, we have all the momentum
Plaxico wants the ball and he’s going to get it
Eli looks at him; Plaxico shakes the defender
All of our dreams in these two men hands
Eli throws him the ball and Plaxico catches it for a touchdown
He bends down like he’s praying to lord, saying thank you
Thank you, for all the experts doubting us
Thank you, for us having us struggle to get were we are at right now
Thank you, letting us face a 17-0 team
Thank you, for letting us get this Super Bowl
To answer your question about my poem, it's about the testing of the atomic bomb in the New Mexico Desert. The name of the test sight was called "Trinity", so I was making a reference to the name of the bomb sight. Thanks for your feedback!
DEAN MARTIN CHRONOLOGY
June 17, 1917: Dino Paul Crocetti born in Steubenville, Ohio
1933: Martin drops out of school and starts boxing as “Kid Crocet”
mid 1930s: holds bare-knuckle boxing matches with roommate Sonny King
early 1940s: starts singing for bandleader Sammy Watkins
1944: stationed in Akron, Ohio during World War II
1946: Martin meets Jerry Lewis at the Glass Hat Club
1956: Martin and Lewis split
early 1960s: Rat Pack forms with Martin, Frank Sinatra, Sammy Davis, Jr., Joey Bishop, and Peter Lawford
1965: The Dean Martin Show launches
1976: reunited with Lewis
1987: son Dean Paul Martin, Jr. dies in plane crash with Air National Guard
1993: diagnosed with lung cancer
December 25, 1995: Martin dies of acute respiratory failure
(gamzon told me to just do that so you guys know what I'm doing, but I absolutely hate writing poetry to I don't really want to post that...)
Another Rainy Day
Her face pressed against the window pain
Her tears following the pattern of the rain drops
His grip on her hair tighten
And she squealed with pain
She tried to loosen his grip
But it just angered him more.
I screamed hoping that someone would
Hear me
But no one came
he yelled in her face…….
APRIL 15th, 1912—1:20 AM
Eight distress calls have been launched.
No one has come.
Lifeboat after lifeboat is launched
but I stay behind;
I won’t go without James.
Mother won’t go without me; she sobs beside me.
‘Nearer My God to Thee’
resonates in my ears.
The orchestra’s sad violins sing sweetly,
their soft tremors spreading over the water,
falling on desperate ears,
helpless minds.
The players’ faces are calm,
accepting.
I do not feel their hope,
their inner tranquility.
I feel terror,
angst.
A child separated from his mother
stands, crying and bewildered, nearby.
No one goes to him.
No one wipes the burning tears away.
Too many people crowd the life boats now;
there’s no hope for you, little one.
The hymn weeps,
its clear notes
bidding us all safe passage
to heaven above.
Christmas ‘04
Zoe J.
Small fingers run down mahogany
Outlining deep curves
She’s been bewitched,
The twinkling room dissipates
No more mother or stepfather,
Just this new sculpted beauty
Her musical Venus De Milo
Painted cream and sapphire
Neck against neck,
Smoothed wood on skin
She lowers it to her lap
And clumsily begins to pluck
This, she imagines, is sex
Everything painful but nice, new but familiar
And so often that moment
When a life is redirected
Lapis Lazuli
Streaks burn blue-white,
hot against wide eyes,
backs against cool grass,
locked together like a lacertine,
it takes a while to find the head;
the tail;
whose heart belongs to whom?
Dig,
mud covered cheeks,
You saved me
over and over,
pitching forward,
I need to untangle myself
again.
Ink smudges against the skies,
only shooting stars leaving
scrapes against the infinite canvas,
reflecting in eyes made of
lapis lazuli,
almost precious,
but still all the more valuable,
because they are wordless
but still scream to me.
No need to say those words again,
you saved me instead.
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