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.

A Day Dream

A Day Dream

I see this as a poem with a lot of confusion.  It starts off with talking about a place in the

woods.  This place has a willow and a fountain and a ruined hut.  The hut is broken which I 

don't understand he would do in a daydream.  If I was to do have a daydream I would have

everything not ruined.  That would make the daydream have a fault.  The next thing in the

poem is that there is three people not just two people.  This is where I get confused in the fact the

narrator, who is experiencing this, is either dreaming about two people because he is

able to be with both in this dream or because this dream is helping him decide who he 

wants.  So without focusing on the rest of the poem I've like just this fact of this idea of 

a dream where you can have two lovers and not be in trouble.  This idea does change through

the poem though...

Who is coleridge? What do we know about him? Who was he? Why did he enjoy publishing his writings? Many people do not know that much about the English Lyrical poet, he was a critic and&nbsp;a well known philosopher. Lots of Americans or&nbsp;anybody for that&nbsp;matter hardly pay attention to the great writers of the 18 and 19 century. In 1797, he began to publish a short-lived liberal, political, periodical called <em><u>The Watchman.</u></em> He also created a good friendship with William Wordsworth. Why were Coleridge and Wordsworth not on good terms with one another? Sometime lateron in Coleridge's life he became addicted to opium, and sadly suicidal. In 1810, Coleridge's frienship with wordsworthwas in a crisis. The two poets just didn't return to their relationship they once had with one another.



Throughout his 62 years of life Coleridge has published some outstanding books, and poems. Some of those poems are <The Eolian Harp, Ode to the Departing Year, The Rime of the Ancient Mariner, The Frost at Midnight, My Prison, Fears in Solitude, and lastly Kubla Khan. The two that I had heard about were Frost at Midnight and Kubla Khan. The others seem very fascinating to me, and I would really like to read many of the poems written by Coleridge. Having to understand his writings, will most definitaly be&nbsp;a challenge. Most the time of trying to read any poems, it takes a while to wrap my head around the meaning of the poem. Knowing more about Coleridge's writings, thoughts, and language will help me discover what he was really feeling when he wrote and published his work.But knowing and reading the poems are two differnet things. Reading the poem is the easiest to do, but are you really understanding what he is writing. And then you having knowing what yhour reading. Knowing what your reading will help yhou grasp what the writer (Coleridge) is thinking and feeling. And I am so excited for our Poem segment so I could learn how to read and grasp what ever the poet is feeling in his writings.