Claude Monet’s “The Boat Studio”
I saw him crossing the river in a storm yesterday. He did not seem to notice the wind nor the rain. I grew increasingly anxious and shouted at him to leave the water, but he made no gesture that indicated he heard me. He disappeared behind the layers of rain seconds later.
And there he was again, stoic and silent. The air had not yet recovered from last night’s storm and the sky already signified another thunderstorm with a golden hue. I stood on the river bank, watching the boat approaching me with the old man inside. The mist in the air was heavy and suffocating. I shuffled uncomfortably in the mud, suddenly anxious to meet the man. The water in the air grew heavier with every minute, softening the sound in the air and discreetly added a tranquil quality to the scene. The man turned his head away from me almost shyly as the boat brushed past my muddy shoes. I was fortunate enough to catch a glance of the inside of his boat, however. He was painting a distressed man in a storm.
I was an uneducated burglar and I was proud of my heritage. My father was a burglar in the morning and a thief at night, so was his mother. I was still working on my thief skills at that time. Being a burglar was so much easier, since burglary mostly required brute force, but thieving was an art. Like playing a violin, we thieves needed to learn from the basics and build our muscles to memorize the moves. Our family did not join gangs on the street: we was a private enterprise and we did our own business because we was a proud people. Our house was built from the bricks my grandmother stole from a memorial construction site. We needed money to hire people to do the water pipes: sadly, skills could not be stoled. I believed that it was time for me to make a contribution to my family like a good thief.
I decided to try my luck on a train. I sneaked past the ticket clipping people and hopped onto the last car of the train. I was so lucky: there was an elegant lady leaning delicately against the side of the window looking out to the crowds below. I quietly slipped into the seat next to her, all the while clenching my lunch box to my chest nervously(I could not find a proper lunch box so I used a large cardboard box to store my homemade sandwich, an apple, a yogurt, and a carton of milk snatched from a street store). The lady did not stir. I looked at her back, and noticed a curious thing perched on top of her head. I could not but frown furiously when I saw that it was a gigantic birdcage connected to a hat. It was made out of pure gold. My eyes widened so much and so quickly at the thought that my ears popped. At least… I thought it was pure gold. I did not know how to verify such thing other than to bite into the metal: I have seen sailors done that on the Macnolia port before. But she looked so pretty, like a crane I saw at the park yesterday. Before I realized it, the train entered the destination’s station. The rays of sunshine was blocked by the sudden concrete structure of Le Gare. We were thrown into pitch black for a moment. My heart raced and I bit my lunch box anxiously. This was it, now or never! I firmly told myself and tried to imagine papa and grandma’s proud faces when they saw the golden cage. I leaned over and clamped my teeth hard over the rim of the cage. The cage did not bulge, but my teeth was stuck on the metal. The lady started and turned around, and what I saw made me scream like a pig. It was my grandma! Her hazel eyes stared straight into my soul and I could only drool stupidly while my face was locked in place by my teeth an inch away from her face. She furiously kicked me away so hard that my teeth disconnected with the metal with a sticky noise. We barely noticed that the train stopped and people were leaving. Grandma was ripping off her disguise and screaming in my face telling me I was a failure to my entire family because I destroyed the golden cage she stole from the Palace. My throbbing mouth made me mad as well, and I told her how could she ever put a cage on her hat and expect no one to deport her. I clutched my lunch box deeply to my chest until its edges dug into my ribs. I was so sad that I had let my grandma down, but I did not want to let her win the argument, so I tried hard to bite back tears, which was difficult because my teeth were still hurting and it made me want to cry even more. Grandma wiped out a large map and tried to fold it into a stick so she could slap me on the head with it. I clutched my box even harder. All the while we did not notice someone standing on the platform, staring silently at us with his eerily familiar eyes.
The author analyzes the painting by Jackson Pollock
The author chooses a painting for the scene in Hamlet in which Hamlet’s guards try to stop him from approaching the ghost.
The author talks of a Viking’s advice: don’t be arrogant and be cautious.
The Big Question:
The writer’s point in “When I Have Fears”: Reflecting to the past and fears that he has not lived his life to the fullest.
Devices: – Simile from “Before high-pilèd books, in charactery, Hold like rich garners the full ripened grain;”
- Personification from “night’s starred face” and “magic hand of chance”
Structure: – Rhyming: ABCBDEDEFGFGHH
– Punctuation: The dash in “Never have relish in the faery power/
Of unreflecting love—then on the shore
Of the wide world I stand alone,”
- Whole poem is one long sentence and one stanza.
Sound devices: – Alliteration in “wide world”
The writer’s point in “Mezzo Cammin”: Thinking about the past initially makes him feel that he has not fulfilled his life goals.
Devices: – Metaphor compares the Past to a city he sees from a hill
- Imagery describes the city in “A city in the twilight dim and vast,/With smoking roofs, soft bells, and gleaming lights”
- The thunder symbolizes Death
Structure: – 2 long sentences with dashes in the second part
- Entire poem is one stanza
Sound devices: – “Cataract” is cacophony
I. Introduction: Thesis: In poems “When I Have Fears” and “Mezzo Cammin”, the authors conveys their concerns for the
II. The authors create vivid images to illustrate the past.
- Imagery describes the city in “A city in the twilight dim and vast,/With smoking roofs, soft bells, and gleaming lights” (Longfellow l. 11-12).
- Imagery and simile describes the imagined past accomplishments in ”
efore high-pilèd books, in charactery,
Hold like rich garners the full ripened grain;
When I behold, upon the night’s starred face,
Huge cloudy symbols of a high romance,” (Keats l. 3-6).
- Personification from “night’s starred face” and “magic hand of chance” (Keats l. 5 and 8).
III. Keats and Longfellow play with sound to create a serious tone when describing the end of their time.
- Alliteration in “wide world” (Keats): wailing sound
- “Sounds and sights” (Longfellow): signing sound
- Cacophony in “cataract” (Longfellow): illustrates thunder’s magnificence
IV. The authors use similar structures to show the passage of time and their sadness.
- Rhyming of each poem
- Long syntax, with dashes (quotes see above)
- Parallel structure: “And think…”, “And when…” (Keats)
- “Nor indolence, nor pleasure, nor the fret” (Longfellow)