The Journal

Throughout the day, any time of day,

I would grab my journal and just start writing about events of any kind.

Most of the time I just write about what I did throughout the day,
I would also write about how I feel at that time.
Anger. Frustration. Confused. Sadness. Happiness.
And sometimes accomplished.
Writing in my journal always brought comfort and less stressed.
It feels like I am letting everything pout out of my head and my heart.
And than as I finish writing my last few sentences its like I feel as light as the clouds.
Stress free.
every now and then  I would keep my thoughts in my head and not tell anyone or write about it,
It really hurts my head and I feel like screaming.
But recently I haven't been able to write because of school and trying to get myself ready for next year.
I really wish that I could just stay home and just write in my journal.
All day.
With no distractions.
But life is always just a dream.
You want things to go the way you planned and never does.
Most of the time.
I love having something to write about. It makes me feel better.
And besides I have to work on my writing somehow.
Sadly most people don't like to write.
I do not know why but I find it mentally relaxing.
Writing helps with school and it also gives you something to do when you are bored.
My journal will always be there for me whenever I need it.

Common Sense

 

I think this is a pretty cool quote.  I take it as common sense is something that you don't have often even if you are very knowledgeable.  Yes you know where the movie theater is but do you know how to get there without being shot.  Common sense is something though that I feel you gain with experience and is different from wisdom because you could just read about someone else's experience.  Wisdom to me is really only a state of knowledge that makes you arrogant.  So I think that what he was trying to say is that you can be wise but not smart with what you know.  This applies to a lot of things.  For instance, you could have a lot of money but you spend it all and can't hold on to a single dollar.  Well when its time that you need something really important and you have no money left, you can't get it.  But then there is going to be that person that saves half of their money every time they get a paycheck and then get hit by a truck and need to pay for the surgery on their back.

Coleridge is really interesting because what he takes in to considerations for his poems is that they are really universal.  In any language someone could read this and get the same thing for the quote.  I like what Coleridge does because it does not have to be a complex quote that only Rhode Scholars understand.  Everything he says could be put into terms that could be explained even to a five year old.

Coleridge uses a lot of symbolism when he writes.  In my prose poem Coleridge was one of my main inspirations because he writes with a style that is elegant but also intelligent.  My prose poem ties into this because I feel that this is just as intelligent and elegant as my poem is.

White Night

A long walk ahead.

Silent and Dark.  Still, as if it is dead.

It is the forest. A sad green with no movement.  Pine trees gloomily watch me as I walk by.

There it goes again.  Rustling.  Sounds of large animals. No.  Sounds of falling death. No. Sounds of new life.

Snow.  White. Restless, but still.  It is not alive.  Is it?

Movement again.  Frozen still.  Crash!  Crash!  Crash!

Rested.  No movement.  

Trees sway back and forth.  Wind is picking up.

I fall.  White water washes across my face.  A puddle?  No.  A Pond.

The center is still frozen.  The rest has melted.  

Wind picks up even stronger.  I embrace it.  I take it in my lungs.  Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Hold.

I close my eyes.  One second. Two seconds. Three Seconds.  Four Seconds. Stop!

Exhale!

I open my eyes.  I am in the center of the pond.

I take off my jacket.  Blood stained.  My blood.

I take off my shirt.  More blood.  This time not my blood, but my blood and someone else's.

I inhale one more time.  This time there will not be an exhale.  That final breath was sweet and crisp.

My gift, my wings.  Feathers look beyond the light shimmering like metal on my back.  

Still holding my breath I draw my blade and close my eyes.

Slice. Slice.  Tears drip down my face.  Blood drips down my back.

I feel the life leave my wings.  They start to dissolve.

The snow melts. It begins to rain.  Blue.  Green.  Purple.  White.  Black.  Red.  Yellow.  Orange.  

The new world.  My sacrifice. 

From my feet the world grew.  Vines sprouted and expand from my feet like locomotives.  

The frozen center I once was standing on turns to mud and rockets above the scenery.  I watch my sacrifice.

Every rain drop produces a new tree.  Each a new kind.  Some with spirals, others straight, puff balls, leaves.  The pines which were gloom now as happy as the new born baby's parents.

Conflict arises.  The beast arises from his resting place.  Drenched and angry.

A cross on his claws,  science on his teeth.  It runs toward me.  I stand firm.

The blade in my hands I stab it blind.  Into the brain.

I open my eyes and see nothing.  Here is beauty, at the cost my wings and my eyes, and I am not allowed to see it or fly to experience it.  I am frozen to this spot so others do not repeat me.  I am the birth of new and the death of old.

By Wade Kimble

Quote:

"Common sense in an uncommon degree is what the world calls wisdom."

-Samuel Taylor Coleridge

 Coleridge is referring to the way that people view society. We are not driven to exceed. Instead, we are processed to become average. Instead of opportunity, we see competition. From the beginning, we are influenced to reject the literal concept of education. We use our intelligence against each other to create a feeling of dominance and superiority. Common sense is viewed as wisdom, because common sense is the desire to become educated.

Frost at Midnight

This poem was incessantly descriptive of the nature around the narrator. The text lead you through the feeling of the scene. It even went as far as to give a sound to silence. The man in the cottage is taken through a range of emotions. First, before drifting off to sleep, the man observes his environment. He describes it in great detail, and begins to describe his child-hood. He refers to the old church tower bells as "the poor man's only music". I feel as if the man is describing the peaceful scene of his birth-place to compare with his current state. He is at peace with his surroundings and with his family, who he refers to as "inmates" of the cottage.

"Dear Babe, that sleepest cradled by my side,
Whose gentle breathings, heard in this deep calm..."

The narrator mentions he was raised in the city. He begins to predict how his baby's child-hood will be growing up in a place with, "lakes and sandy shores, beneath the crags of ancient mountain, and beneath the clouds". The seasons are described at the end of the poem:

"Therefore all seasons shall be sweet to thee,

Whether the summer clothe the general earth

With greenness, or the redbreast sit and sing

Betwixt the tufts of snow on the bare branch

Of mossy apple-tree, while the nigh thatch

Smokes in the sun-thaw; whether the eave-drops fall

Heard only in the trances of the blast,

Or if the secret ministry of frost

Shall hang them up in silent icicles,

Quietly shining to the quiet Moon."

 The description in the poem allows you to recall moments in your life, in which you have felt what is being described, and apply it to the story. It allows for a great range of possible meanings to the story. "Fill up the intersperséd vacancies and momentary pauses of the thought!" This is exactly what you must do in order to gain anything from this poem. You must use what you know to fill in the blanks. All of this is due to description.

advice

Whenever someone is talking to you and giving you advice about a situatuion it is very important that you

listen to whatever they are saying. Because what they say can help make a difference and help the situation

your in. Even if you think that information has nothing to do with the problem that is present, it will help if you

remember what your friend, parent, or whomever talked to you, that advice will help in the future.

Quote by Coleridge

Samuel Taylor Coleridge

"Love is flower like; Friendship is like a sheltering tree."

Love is flower like because love is a beautiful think that is between man and woman. And a friendship is like a sheltering tree because a friend is always there for your support if you are hurt, stressed, and if you need someone to talk too. And the tree will never wilt aslong as your friendship is strong.