Rachel's Poem Collection

Be Glad Your Nose is on Your Face

[audio m4a="http://blogs.isb.bj.edu.cn/pkoch/files/2014/03/asdfghjkl.m4a"][/audio]

Be Glad Your Nose in on Your Face

By: Jack Prelutsky

Be glad your nose is on your face,
not pasted on some other place,
for if it were where it is not,
you might dislike your nose a lot.

Imagine if your precious nose
were sandwiched in between your toes,
that clearly would not be a treat,
for you’d be forced to smell your feet.

Your nose would be a source of dread
were it attached atop your head,
it soon would drive you to despair,
forever tickled by your hair.

Within your ear, your nose would be
an absolute catastrophe,
for when you were obliged to sneeze,
your brain would rattle from the breeze.

Your nose, instead, through thick and thin,
remains between your eyes and chin,
not pasted on some other place–
be glad your nose is on your face!

The Calligraphy Event

The Calligraphy Event 

  With my heart beating heavily, I swallowed hard, making a weird sound in the throat. Me and my friends who writes Chinese calligraphy were standing at the back of a huge brownish door, waiting for the judge to call. I kept asking them are they nervous, but when they asked me back, I nodded. This is the third time I went to a serious calligraphy event. We were all pretty nervous at that time, and we all knew that the other competitors studied much longer than us. I was extremely worried.

Just when the judge shouted the two words, come in, I could feel the sweat had wetted my two fists, and it wasn’t comfortable at all. I pushed my best friends in front, who practiced calligraphy with me since the day we started, and whispered: “Hey! Lets sit together at the back row” We slowly jogged towards the back of the competition stage, and settled our papers, inks and brushes in place. We got one hour to finish our piece, and I was already shaking.

Suddenly, a hand patted on my back, it was Elaine.

“It will be ok.”

She is always calm; I gave her a warm smile back. I looked around and took a deep breath, I pressed down the brush.

I smoothly moved the brush, left and right, forwards and backwards, points and lines. About 40 minutes later, I breathed out and carefully moved the brush out of the way just in case the calligraphy ink on the brush drops on my fine piece of writing. I grabbed the tiny box beside me, then opened it, and took out a simple, but delicate stamp.  I stood up, but still bent down, tapping on my friends’ shoulder: “Are you finished?” Well, as usual, they answered back with a smile. Other people might think it is just an encouragement, but I noticed what that means, they’re all waiting for me. “Ok Ok!” I murmured in Chinese, “N ĭ   B ú    Y à o   Lă o   Sh ì   Cu ī   Wŏ” (I’m finishing it! Don’t you ever challenge me on time managing!)” We always joke on each other, though it was such a serious event. I stamped the red stamp onto the calligraphy paper, and my piece was done.

With the calligraphies in hands, we walked towards to the long line of competitors waiting to get scored. My legs were shaking quickly. I tapped my foot; waiting till our turn to get scored. Eventually, I stepped onto the scoring stage, in front of the judges. I lifted my Chinese calligraphy up, sweated in hands. After the scoring, I went to the crowd, and I looked at the scoring board. The highest score was 93 at that time, it was extraordinarily hard to get such high score, but when I turned my head back, 89.5.

My brain stopped working for about 2 seconds, was it good? Or bad? I have no idea. 89.5 was a silver medal, I was fine about that. But still, we were a little depressed. 88.5, 89, 89, 91, these were the scores that different judges gave me. One of the judges seemed harsh and strict, he kept on staring at me, and I stared him back. I care about people’s eye contacts, and I hated people staring at me with harsh emotions.  Feeling dejected, I walked out as the crowd of parents cheered for other children.

Surprisingly, I didn’t feel jealousy or anger in mind like I always did when I was younger. Instead, I felt happy for the people who got golden medals. I learned, and I grew, throughout the years I studied calligraphy. So maybe the next time I saw that judge in a calligraphy event, I would be the first one to stare at him before he stares at me.

Invictus by William Ernest Henley : The Poetry Foundation

Invictus

BY WILLIAM ERNEST HENLEY

Out of the night that covers me,

Black as the pit from pole to pole,

I thank whatever gods may be

For my unconquerable soul.

In the fell clutch of circumstance

I have not winced nor cried aloud.

Under the bludgeonings of chance

My head is bloody, but unbowed.

Beyond this place of wrath and tears

Looms but the Horror of the shade,

And yet the menace of the years

Finds and shall find me unafraid.

It matters not how strait the gate,

How charged with punishments the scroll,

I am the master of my fate,

I am the captain of my soul.

via Invictus by William Ernest Henley : The Poetry Foundation.

WILFRED OWEN - DULCE ET DECORUM EST, Text of poem and notes

DULCE ET DECORUM EST(1)

Bent double, like old beggars under sacks,
Knock-kneed, coughing like hags, we cursed through sludge,
Till on the haunting flares(2) we turned our backs
And towards our distant rest(3) began to trudge.
Men marched asleep. Many had lost their boots
But limped on, blood-shod. All went lame; all blind;
Drunk with fatigue; deaf even to the hoots(4)
Of tired, outstripped(5) Five-Nines(6) that dropped behind.
Gas!(7) Gas! Quick, boys! – An ecstasy of fumbling,
Fitting the clumsy helmets(8) just in time;
But someone still was yelling out and stumbling,
And flound'ring like a man in fire or lime(9) . . .
Dim, through the misty panes(10) and thick green light,
As under a green sea, I saw him drowning.
In all my dreams, before my helpless sight,
He plunges at me, guttering,(11) choking, drowning.
If in some smothering dreams you too could pace
Behind the wagon that we flung him in,
And watch the white eyes writhing in his face,
His hanging face, like a devil's sick of sin;
If you could hear, at every jolt, the blood
Come gargling from the froth-corrupted lungs,
Obscene as cancer, bitter as the cud(12)
Of vile, incurable sores on innocent tongues,
My friend, you would not tell with such high zest(13)
To children ardent(14) for some desperate glory,
The old Lie; Dulce et Decorum est
Pro patria mori.(15)

via WILFRED OWEN - DULCE ET DECORUM EST, Text of poem and notes.

Do not go gentle into that good night- Poets.org - Poetry, Poems, Bios & More

Do not go gentle into that good night- Poets.org - Poetry, Poems, Bios & More.

Do not go gentle into that good night,

Old age should burn and rave at close of day;

Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

 

Though wise men at their end know dark is right,

Because their words had forked no lightning they

Do not go gentle into that good night.

 

Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright

Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,

Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

 

Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,

And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,

Do not go gentle into that good night.

 

Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight

Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,

Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

 

And you, my father, there on the sad height,

Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.

Do not go gentle into that good night.

Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Mind Power Of Divergent

Mind Power Of Divergent

 

I have only recently found interest in reading science fiction books, and so far Divergent is my favorite.  Veronica Roth has definitely perfected the idea of catching her reader’s attention. The details are so planned out, making every action more intense. For example, when Tris was taking the aptitude test one of the simulations was her having to choose how to react towards a vicious dog.  The action itself made my heart race; but along with the descriptions of Tris’s feelings and the action happening around her, I could perfectly see what was going on, like a movie inside my mind.

My favorite chapter in Divergent is chapter twenty. Tris is getting her second fear simulation; she is in a tank that was slowly filling up with water. Before the simulation started, she was freaking out because the last simulation she was in stayed in her mind and was haunting her.  I like this chapter because it is when she really starts to understand her divergence. I think this was the perfect simulation to show the reader what a divergent is. The way that the simulation could be so obviously manipulated really helped us understand that she was one of the only people who could.  One of the quotes from the book that really led me through to understanding was, “We walk quickly down the hallway, and then I stop, pulling my arm back. He stares at me in silence. He won’t give me information without prompting. “what?” I demand, “You’re divergent,” he replies.“ The contents of this chapter are important because when Tris finds out she is divergent, they told her it was dangerous and never to tell anyone. Now, because Four knows, she has to learn how to contain it.

I think the setting of this story also was one of the more important aspects, along with the saying “Faction before blood.” Factions are the area in the city that a person belongs to. In Divergent there are five factions, Amity that believes in peace, Dauntless that believes in bravery, Abnegation that believes in selflessness, Candor believes in honesty and Erudite that believes in Knowledge.  I think the setting is affective because different factions have different beliefs. When it describes how the faction transfers are having a hard time adjusting to their new faction, it really shows how strong the beliefs are. It also helps me understand how different one faction is from the other.

Overall this book left me wanting more. The feelings that come with this book are so strong, some of the feelings I have never felt as strong as when I was reading this book.  So remember, if you are divergent, try to contain it.