The Lesson “Your father’s gone‚” my bald headmaster said. His shiny dome and brown tobacco jar Splintered at once in tears. It wasn’t grief. I cried for knowledge which was bitterer Than any grief. For there and then I knew That grief has uses – that a father dead Could bind the bully’s fist a week or two; And then I cried for shame‚ then for relief. I was a month past ten when I learnt this: I still remember how the noise was stilled in school-assembly when my grief came in. Some goldfish
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The Lottery Limerick In a village there was once an annual lottery Where winning wasn’t exactly lucky For the winner was stoned‚ And in pain they groaned Dying as victims of assault and battery. Anonymous The Cruelty of the Villagers(Tanka) I saw her fall dead With stones raining upon her No one tried to stop Grateful their names were not drawn None were saddened by this loss. Anonymous Ode to Tessie Hutchinson When I think of her‚ my heart aches As though hemlock I have drunk
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Walt Whitman (1819 - 1892) paints a scene of a little girl and her father looking up at the stars on an autumn night‚ at a beach. Notice that Whitman approves of the father teaching his daughter astronomy. Whitman had very liberal ideas about education that were ahead of his time‚ the 19th century. She sees clouds engulf the stars‚ blocking her view. The voice of the poet reassures her that one‚ the stars will return‚ and two‚ a force exists that is even more eternal than the stars. Whitman really
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Reading Reflection Natasha S. King ENG 125 Introduction to Literature Professor Demeterius Meyers October 29‚ 2012 I chose to reflect on Kate Chopins‚ “The Story of an Hour” for this assignment. It is about a woman finding out from her sister and friend that her husband was killed in a railroad accident. She initially appears very grief stricken and cries out in her sister’s arms. Not long after she retreats alone to her bedroom. While in her room she realizes that although she loved
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Sorrow has its own happiness It is her sixteenth birthday. Tahlia used to celebrate birthdays with her family in a small intimate party at her house in her her hometown. Tahlia’s city is not as peaceful as Pittsburgh‚ where she is living right now; it is crowded with people and motorbikes. On her birthday‚ there were no candles or any special presents. There were only her parents‚ her brother and Tahlia. With only four people‚ Tahlia’s family is loud most of the time. The happy family talked about
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Soon I was at the place. Already a large crowd of people had gathered near a big building which was on fire. Flames were rising high. People were running about confused. The cries of children got mixed with the shrieks of women. It was really a heart-rending scene. Soon the news spread. Some boy scouts arrived at the scene. They at once set to work. They brought pails of water from the tap nearby and threw it on the flames. Some of them brought bags of sand. I‚ too joined in the work. Someone
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A difficult time in life-(fiction) On the 15th of July‚ 2011 the day my dearest grandmother passed away. “I’ll always be with you”‚ her very last words. I still vaguely remember clutching her hands‚ weeping‚ begging her not to sleep but now its nothing more than a vivid memory 2 years ago. Yet her face still haunts my once pleasant dreams. Her presence still lingers in my heart. My grandmother’s belongings reminisce bringing me more anguish. School became a hassle...my friends became distant
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I still remember that dreadful night as if it were yesterday‚ the day my pride‚ my joy‚ my everything‚ my marigolds were destroyed. That morning when I woke up I just knew it was going to be a bad day. I woke up and started doing the thing I’ve always done‚ I was taking care of my beautiful marigolds. I was out there for about two hours when a rock came flying at one of my marigolds and beheaded it‚ “Who out there?” I searched through the bushes trying to find the children who are always trying to
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Transformational Writing The men jerked to the floor‚ all social barriers destroyed by the capricious nature of death. Privates and Generals alike squirmed in the filth‚ their searching hands smothering soft pink flesh‚ fearing the deathly burrow of a bullet. Jack flopped‚ limp like a fish. His face buried itself into the dirt and broke the dry crust his chin tunnelling into the sticky layer below‚ gaping like an open wound. He heard the ration party strike the floor their contents spilling
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Through this poem‚ Karl Shapiro explores the significance of a life despite the creature’s diminutive size‚ and questions the persona’s own ethical standards. The use of stylistic features such as imagery puts forth the moral dilemma that the persona underwent after killing an insect. Through the eyes of the persona‚ we as readers are made to ponder over the issue of our own moral standards‚ by questioning the importance we give to the worth of a life. Furthermore‚ Shapiro sets the poem in the first-person
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