Poetry Project for English 11

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=R5oOVS8cMDM&feature=youtu.be

The End of Innocence, Found Poem

(Music is subtle, but there.)

The End of Innocence

Found poem, taken from Lord of the Flies by William Golding,

(Ch 1,2,3,9,12)

Ralph jumped from the terrace,

immersed his mouth and blew a jet of water into the air,

did a surface dive and swam under water

a golden light danced over his face,

Signs of life were visible now,

the children who came along the beach leapt into visibility.

A storm of laughter arose,

and even the tiniest child joined in,

for a moment the boys were a closed circuit of sympathy.

Yet, they’re frightened.

as if it wasn’t a good island,

as if, the beastie was real.

Beneath a sky of thunderous brass,

rang with the storm coming.

Between the flashes of lightning

the air was dark and terrible,

The hunters took their spears,

the cooks took spits,

the rest clubs of fire wood.

the brown backs that hemmed in terror.

And there again,

shrill and inevitable,

was the ululation sweeping across the island.

Don’t scream,

hopeless fear on flying feet,

rushing through the forest,

trying to cry for mercy.

Ralph wept for the end of innocence,

the darkness of man’s heart.

Found Poem, from Lord of the Flies, Chapter 9

The End of Innocence

Found poem, taken from Lord of the Flies by William Golding,

(Ch 1,2,3,9,12)

Ralph jumped from the terrace,

immersed his mouth and blew a jet of water into the air,

did a surface dive and swam under water

a golden light danced over his face,

Signs of life were visible now,

the children who came along the beach leapt into visibility.

A storm of laughter arose,

and even the tiniest child joined in,

for a moment the boys were a closed circuit of sympathy.

Yet, they’re frightened.

as if it wasn’t a good island,

as if, the beastie was real.

Beneath a sky of thunderous brass,

rang with the storm coming.

Between the flashes of lightning

the air was dark and terrible,

The hunters took their spears,

the cooks took spits,

the rest clubs of fire wood.

the brown backs that hemmed in terror.

And there again,

shrill and inevitable,

was the ululation sweeping across the island.

Don’t scream,

hopeless fear on flying feet,

rushing through the forest,

trying to cry for mercy.

Ralph wept for the end of innocence,

the darkness of man’s heart.

Found Poem - The Island

(The music is quite subtle, but there.)

The Island

Found Poem taken from Lord of the Flies by William Golding

From Pages: 7, 10, 39, 47, 52, 53, 54, 62

The long scar smashed into the jungle;                              

a bath of heat

fledged with palm trees;

their green feathers hundred feet up in the air;

the open sea dark blue,

behind, the darkness of the forest proper.

Decline of the sun,

allowed a  little coolness to lie under the tree,

a drop of burning gold that slid nearer the sill of a world.

Only a few inches from the humid Earth,

the tree trunks and creepers festooned

There was only the faintest indication of the trail

that was widen enough and trodden enough to be a path,

hardened by an accustomed tread.

The forest opened a little,

beyond was the glitter of the sea.

In the hot air a pair of gaudy butterflies danced around

The sunlight had lifted clear of the open space and withdraw from the sky

By: Michael, Elaine, Patrick and Alex

Music by Alex,

Art by Michael.

Found Poem, Video Version

Found Poem

The Island

Found Poem taken from Lord of the Flies by William Golding

The long scar smashed into the jungle; (pg 7)                              

a bath of heat

fledged with palm trees; (pg 10 )

their green feathers hundred feet up in the air;

the open sea dark blue, (pg 10)

behind, the darkness of the forest proper.

Decline of the sun, (pg 39)

allowed a  little coolness to lie under the tree,

a drop of burning gold that slid nearer the sill of a world. (pg 47)

Only a few inches from the humid Earth, (pg 52)

the tree trunks and creepers festooned

There was only the faintest indication of the trail (pg 53)

that was widen enough and trodden enough to be a path,

hardened by an accustomed tread.

The forest opened a little,

beyond was the glitter of the sea. (pg 54)

In the hot air a pair of gaudy butterflies danced around (pg 62)

The sunlight had lifted clear of the open space and withdraw from the sky

By: Michael, Elaine, Patrick and Alex

Music by Alex,

Art by Michael.

English Patient Thought 9

Finally, our inquiry question has come together. We managed to successfully send all of our books to Admiral Seymour Elementary with the help of Ms.Kwan. We were lucky to have a teacher drive us there, or else carrying a box with around eighty books won't be a pleasant sight. Even though I didn't have the opportunity to go, but after looking at some of the photos, I was genuinely glad that the school could receive those books. And I think I finally have an answer to our inquiry question. Throughout our life, we've been sometimes told that people can be altruistic, while others tell us that all people are selfish. Some say people carry out acts of kindness to feel good about themselves, or other reasons for doing what they do. But now I realized, that all of this reasoning and deduction of true intentions doesn't really matter at all. What matters is that our actions are helping other human beings, what matters is that we simply have the drive to help another human being. If our actions' only repercussion is the benefits of another being, and maybe some self-enjoyment, then what is there to question? Nothing.

English Patient Thought 8

The inquiry question is coming along. We have made significant progress in our goal to raise resources for children. We first started out with canned goods, and we actually raised a good amount of food. However our efforts were some what...unfruitful. Because on Sunday I received an email saying that Admiral Seymour Elementary actually wanted lightly used books instead of other resources. However our canned goods did not end up in vain. We donated them to the Wesbrook Center where they actually held a food drive for the UBC food bank. We quickly diverted our attention to used books. We first thought of a plan: most likely, it would be more efficient for us to gather books from people that we somewhat knew. So we targeted our relatives, the student body, and teachers that may have children. We have already gathered about twenty books and the numbers are still rising! We hope to achieve at least 50 books for the young children before this Friday and send a pack of our delegates to the Elementary to deliver the books.

English Patient thought 7

The background story has finally unraveled. *SPOILERS AHEAD* The English patient isn't English at all, but rather Almasy, a Hungarian map charterer. His tragic story unfolded with each dosage of morphine that Carvaggio injected within him. The most prominent of which was Madox's death. In the story it stipulated that people should die at a holy place, and Madox shot himself in a church, which should be the most pious place there is. However soon afterwards, it explains that Madox saw the church as a sacrilegious place, so he shot himself, which he saw as a holy deed, there in order to "reholy-tize" the land. If that is even a word... But, you should get the point. The other prominent point was when Almasy said: "Death means you are in the third person." At one point of his flashback, the patient switched from first person to third person narrative ,which I believe, signified a change in attitude and atmosphere of the story. The third-person narrative showed the readers that Almasy has become detached and bold the tragedy in the next flashback. Further more, it also highlighted another interesting point: the English Patient never linked "Almasy" with himself. It was only until later on that the pieces came together and his identity, uncovered.

English Patient Thought 6

Our inquiry question is whether people are altruistic and the best way to show that would be through acts of kindness. We have decided to support Vancouver Sun Children Funds by donating items from food to clothing. We will go around from door to door asking for their help and donation. Further more, we will also ask for clothing and books. Although there may be only six of us and thousands of children who need our help, I think starting little will still contribute to a big cause. It doesn't matter how much items we manage to collect but how much effort we put into it. But such a plan needs carful planning and precise step. First we will identify a school that requires our help the most, and then proceed to gather items. We will start on Saturday morning and ask for canned food, monetary donation and used cloth or books. Then on Sunday, we will send a delegate of our group to the Headquarters or school that we are helping the items that we have collected. Simply put it, it's time to take action, and that time will be this weekend. 

English Patient Thought 5~

Ondaatje is really stepping up the pace. At chapter 6 and 7, the background story behind the English patient and Kip is revealed to the reader. The English patient's affair with Katherine quickly turned sour as her husband, Geoffrey Clinton, attempted to murder both them by crashing a plane into them in the desert. However, Katherine survives, but with severe wounds. The patient was forced to leave her to find help only to return years later to find her dead body. Similarity, Kip also experienced a rough time at this time through enlistment; he had no friends because he was "brown", and when he did make new friends, they were blown up soon afterwards. The romantic story between Hana and Kip makes a sharp turn, as Kip's history foreshadows a tragic ending to their relationship. Further more Ondaatje at this point has finally "connected" the story pieces together for the readers: it all seems to make sense now. It isn't much mystery now that the English patient was indeed Almasy, and the fact that he was denied help to save Katherine because of his nationality rotates around a core theme of the story: nationhood. Almasy tried to transcend nationhood by exploring the desert, an isolated environment, but only backfired as he was taken prisoner because the war even spread to the deserts. Similarly, Kip's history presents to us that his nationhood caused him great grief and suffering, as he eventually portrays the west as white "racists".

English Patient Thought 4:

It's starting to get interested. I think it's time to confess; at the beginning of the story, I didn't know what I had gotten myself into: the book was outright bizarre for me. However, it's starting to turn very engaging for me. I can't wait to flip the page to see how the relationship between the character develop, and how the English Patient's past will unravel. At the point I am at, Hana has started a romantic relationship with Kip which seems quite odd as I expected her love to be for the patient. Nonetheless, Kip and Hana's relationship seem to be based on the fact that they "need" each other, as in that Hana finds security in Kip, and vice versa. Their relationship was ignited by an incident where Kip needed help to defuse a bomb and Hana risked her life for the both of them. This event further showed the readers Hana's altruistic nature. However at the same time, she seems very cynical too, for example whenever she is with another man alone, she always assumes that he is there for sex. Like when Caravagio touches her on the back, or when she lies with Kip. Though I believe this may have something to do with her past, which the story does not reveal at this point.

The English Patient: Thought 3

I believe it would be just to characterize this book at this point .... unique... I suppose. The book is certainly not like any book I have read before; it doesn't follow the anticipated path of plot line or story progression. Rather there are constant turn of events that not only shift the interest points of the story but also shock the reader. For example Caravaggio's entrance into the plot not only provides background to the time period but also sheds light on the horrid situation of the war. At this point in the story, the war has scarred the three characters of the story, fully demonstrating that people not directly associated with the war can also be traumatized. Hana, a nurse, who becomes shell shocked as a result of her father's death. Caravaggio, a intelligence collector, became a man in silence after his thumb had been cut off. And the English Patient, a surveyor of geography, was somehow also affected. The war is all-reaching. No one can escape its influence, whether they are at home, or in the battlefields fighting for their lives.

English Patient: The Beginning

English patient thought 2:
After dwelling into the story a bit more, I've discovered that this book is not a simple story. It's not just about  a nurse caring for a patient. But rather, it's about the reflection of the patient and his continually developing relationships with the characters in the story. The intricate backgrounds and mystifying relations of one person to another adds a very enigmatic atmosphere to the story. Furthermore, the story also introduces very mature themes, for example sex and drugs; however these should not be too much to handle for a group of seventeen year old boys. The plot itself is driven by continuous flashbacks of the patient, which reveals to the readers that he was an desert explorer; however he cannot seem to remember his name or nationality. In addition, the plot is also driven by the setting. The villa that Hana, the nurse, and the patient is living in is dotted with German land mines. This prompts many visitors into the villa which becomes acquainted with the patient. Up to this point, I am enjoying the book a lot and look forward to see how it unravels in front of me.

Feb, 7th

My thoughts on the English Patient

For my English project, I've decided to do my inquiry on the English Patient by Michael Ondaatje. I've chosen it because the book name itself immediately caught my attention: it seemed to be a book about love and war. After reading some reviews and doing some research, I found out that most people either really enjoyed it or really hated it. However, I was ready to take that risk, to see how the story unravels and to see which side I would eventually take. I believe that the story takes place in a villa, and is about a women who nurses a burnt patient. The patient presumably was a victim of a plane crash in the deserts to which his life was barely saved. Throughout the story, the patient eventually unravels his story in the war. Through reading the story, I hope to gain a better sense of the true war and also the love between people. I have great hopes in reading this book, I look forward to the lessons that the books hold.

English blk A, Feb 6, 2013

My opinion of the problem in Somalia

I feel that the growing radical group of Al-Shabaab has caused many problems not only in Somalia, but also in other countries, for example Egypt. I feel that even when infringements on other countries cannot be tolerated, such bellicose methods imposed by the terrorist groups must be stopped immediately.

The mere fact of the Al Qaeda terrorist groups have led to many other problems, one mainly being the unstable government of Somali. I think that in order to give Somalia a sustainable and efficient government, member states must raid of the problem that has been too long been dwelling within Somalia. However this is easier said than done; Somalia does not have enough military resources in order to fight against terrorist groups and if outer countries interfere, Somalians might consider such movements as infringing upon their policies. If we are to rid such a enduring problem, Somalia should be able to co-operate with fellow member states in order to devise a viable plan to unite forces to stop the terrorist group. In addition the constant famine in Somalia must also be mitigated in order to create a transition period for the current unstable government to be replaced. Resources can be sent from neighboring countries; though there may be countries who suffer from their own problems, we must all pitch in to help. The continuing piracy within the Somalia Coast has also been a widely known international problems concerning numerous countries and massively affecting the shipping industry. Because many shipping ships are captures off the shore of Somalia and held captive for ransom, they are unable to use the quick and efficient route crossing Africa, Instead they have to make a huge loop in order to evade the pirates. This creates huge economical loss that are detrimental to shipping companies across the world. The piracy can only be stopped by two ways: either raiding all pirates or to provide the people with subsistence of jobs in order to maintain the average living conditions. 

The Winter of 1979

Every winter in New York was cold and bitter, but his year, it was not just thundering storms and howling snow; it was a cull of the poor. Each omen of an approaching storm meant a gamble, a gamble for our lives. However, not everybody lived in fear of such a gamble, because it was only the poor, like me, that had to worry about it. Like the reaper itself, no materialistic walls or bed sheets could protect us from its freezing touch. We did not have heaters, nor the money to afford it and the government had other “priorities”, at least that’s how they put it.  For us who lived in the rundown abandoned chapel, the winter of 1979 was only beginning.

“There will be a storm tonight,” Eldwin proclaimed in front of us. He was the leader of our group which consisted of me and nine other members. We started with twenty five, but as the winter progressed, we only ended up with nine. And as we reached the peak of coldness, the last challenge was the hardest. However we were the lucky ones to have claimed the chapel first which was quite spacious, but the extra area carried nothing but chilling air.

We started to head out to scavenge the city. What people would leave in the garbage bins was only a delight to our finding. However even the food others that others have thrown away are not free to take. There are competitors. As shameful as it may sound, even we, the people who could have fallen no lower in the social hierarchy had competitors. And in the live or die winter this year, each piece of food no matter how stale or smelly it was, was precious for survival.

The nine of us divided the city into sections as we each took our respective route to the garbage bins. As I approached the bin, my heart tingled with the hope that there might be a big find. Indeed, nothing was certain, there may be a complete meal that someone left or there may be absolutely nothing but inedible materials. I grabbed on to the edge of the canister and looked inside. There was half a hotdog. I slowly retracted my body over the edge and stuffed the cold remains into my pocket. The omens of the approaching storm were apparent: dark clouds mustered over the city. Throughout the day, I checked through numerous canisters but only few held rewards. On my way back, the drops of rain quickly dotted the asphalt streets. The metallic air swept through my coat as my whole body trembled. Then the howling wind blew through the streets. I was the only one on it. I tried my best to muster up what strength that was left as I trudged slowly to the chapel.

Finally I reached my destination. I entered through the wooden doors and quickly shut them behind me. Eldwin had already set up the fire as six members had already returned. However little did I know that I was the last of the members to return that day. As we piled what food we had, I saw each member trembling to the cold. Little did I know that I too was trembling, but it happened everyday it felt normal now. The wind blew furiously as the doors shook in its presence. As we all hoped that the door would hold, the first strike of cackling thunder hit the ground.

My heart sunk. The first thunder was quickly followed by other raging bolts of lightning. The rain poured down onto the roof which seemed to as if it could collapse any moment. The moon was no where to be seen and the only light was the slowly dying fire. We all gathered around a small corner as we huddled together to preserve what heat was left in our trembling bodies. No one could sleep, even if we tried, there was no way when our lives were on the line. The rain continued and so did the relentless wind as they continued to come endlessly.

Then as all hope was lost, the rain and wind lightened. Our hearts reemerged from with hope. But then, through a hole in the roof, the first drifting piece of white snow landed in front of my eyes as I stared in horror. The white reaper was coming.

Hours later, the howling wind returned, and what seemed like gentle snow was now pounding on chapel from all sides. As we all gathered tighter, each one of us knew that this may be our last stance. Multiple bolts of thunder soared through the sky to the earth. The wind raged as the snow slowly turned to ice pellets that barraged the windows. The roof on the opposite side slowly bent down and multiple windows were now decimated by the anger of mother nature. Then with the deep cringing sound, the roof on the opposite corner collapsed and we were now completely vulnerable to the reaper. The assaulting wind almost pinned us to what walls remained of the chapel. The white snow slowly but evidently crept near us as the temperature dropped even lower and lower.    

We now accepted our destined fate of demise. But Eldwin was still hoping, that maybe even if one us could survive this treacherous night. And it was decided, that I would be the one if any. As we slowly changed our formation, I was moved into the heart of the group. To my objections, all the other members agreed because I was the youngest. A drop of tear slid down my face, before everything went dark.

When I opened my eyes, I looked around. The whole chapel was covered in a layer of pure white snow. As I looked around, even the distant horizons were covered in a layer of snow. So quiet, so peaceful. Even the sun slowly showed itself behind the retreating clouds. And the glowing warmth hit my face as I looked into a future of hope.

But then, the sun sawed through the tear which was frozen on my face. As I felt the droplet run down my cheek, a sudden revelation struck as I turned around to find what this hope had cost.

My opinion on the Syria Crisis

The crisis in Syria has escalated to a level where even the former UN secretary general, Annan quits his “impossible” peace role. With the crisis lasting for more than a year now, the bloodshed has not stopped because of the Syrian government’s intransigence.

First of all I feel that with the current situation, immediate action needs to be taken. Further prolonging the issue will only lead to more factors being involved and more time for the crisis to escalate. Second,  from the very first day of the uprising of Arab Spring, the Syrian Government’s goal was to deter non-violent protests but rather encourage its militarization. As crazy as it sounds, by encouraging protesters militarization, the regime could legitimize its use of violence. Furthermore the regime would be sure to win as its soldiers are better trained and better equipped. As a result, in no way should our resolution incorporate militarization and intervention for two reasons. One being that several countries, such as Iran, have vowed to attack foreign forces in Syria; another being that the mandate of the UN body has no saying in military intervention. Thus it would be wise for the committee to incorporate peaceful negotiations. However realizing that these have already been previously tried, I would like to introduce a new viewpoint on to issue. The fight between regime and the Arab Spring can only happen based on resources, or supporters. The regime’s constituencies mainly include the soldiers themselves which the regime has created a despotic administration according to their loyalty. Thus, the only possible peaceful way of ending such a violent battle, would be to bring the battle to another frontier. However, this does not mean another physical battle, rather a battle for the political “brand”. We need to show the regime constituencies that our brand is better, which consists of negotiations and the transfer of power peacefully from Assad. The way we can win such a philosophical battle is through dialogue and communication. Only when there have been substantive information and “advertisement” has been given to the constituencies can they sway to our “brand”. By transferring the battle into another medium is the only way we can ever hope to solve the ongoing bloodshed in Syria.

Poem about True Love

I once thought love,
would triumph all above.
But then I grew,
and that dream blew.


Nothing can make it stay.
It will fade to grey,
because people are rash,
and it will turn them to ash.


Love cannot be everlasting,
when people are so contrasting.
Time will wear them down,
and what's left to drown.

Objective and Subjective courses

For me, I’ve always been a fan of objective courses, like math physics and chemistry where there is a so called “right answer”. On the other hand, I usually don’t get hyped about subjective courses like English or French, where there isn’t a “right answer”. However, don’t get me wrong, I have no grudge against these subjective courses. It may be that it is simply because I’m not good with them that I never seemed to enjoy taking them. This is in part because of their characteristics.

Subjective information is an opinion, a judgment, or a belief. This means that there may be multiple answers as long as you can back them up with evidence. This should seem to fall straight into my alley, as I am an experienced debater and Model United Nations participant. However, when it’s on pen and paper, it’s a completely different story.

It seems as if whenever I hold my pen and prepare to write, I start to panic. I’m afraid of messing up, afraid to bomb another essay, afraid to take a chance. When I consider such a scenario, it almost reminds me of when I first started to practice public speaking. Honestly, I was very shy in grade ten. Now, people can’t seem to get me to shut up. When I first started, I was nervous, I was more than uncomfortable. But I knew I wanted to get better, I knew this was an obstacle I had to face some time in my life. So I didn’t quit the debate club, nor the MUN (Model United Nations) club. And with practice, I naturally got better. From this, I learned that any skill is not inborn, but rather a trait that can be developed by anyone who wish to do so. Now I take pride in what I say, or what my speeches present to the audience. And in a sense, I hope to take pride in my essays, and to make myself proud when I show them the progress that I have made in the grade 11 year.

Easier said then done. This will undoubtedly become one of the major challenges that await me.