On why characters defend those they love...

Characters defend those they love by attempting to outwit the opponents, and using courage, honor, and abilities attributed to their personality. More so, when a character tries to protect someone they love, a ripple effect occurs, sparking more threats in the future. This example can be seen in “Lord of the Rings” in which Frodo and Sam attempt to separate from the party for “the greater good” only to find trouble in Smeagle. Regardless, helping defend those you love happens on a physical mental, and emotional level. Frodo protects the group by separating (an act of morality), while his best friend Samwise Gangee protects him physically and mentally from the curse of the One Ring.

Another case is in the Dresden Files in which an ability, such as Magic, is used to protect those we love. Dresden has a multitude of abilities to help those in need such as an amulet, a ring, and a staff. At one point, he is also assisted by his ghostly assistant, Bob, the talking skull, who helps him to identify some of his crutches within the storyline. Nonetheless, people will always need friendship to get through struggles.

In Harry Potter, wit isn’t the only thing to save the day. Sometimes good ole’ fashion intelligence will help to incorporate the necessary treatments to protecting those you love. With Hermione Granger, that was exactly the case. Harry, a bloodline Wizard with immense abilities that needed to be awakened, was complimented by his friend Ron Weasley, though nothing could stop him and Hermione from trying to help their scarred friend. Ron, while clumsy, helped Harry in any way he could, whether it be with life issues, helping to teach him (Harry) his own solutions in life, or physically protecting him through magic through the source of a wand and incantations. Hermione, on the other hand, complimented and helped Harry through her intellect, harnessing much of her strength in a mental capacity.

All three of these examples exemplify how heroes can save those the love, though the common fact of each is that they all need to help each other, not just one-sided-wise. Regardless, the purpose of helping those you love is not to anticipate further perils, but to initiate stronger ties with other people, to showcase the strength, and ultimately inspire generations before you.

Frodo, Harry, and Dresden all have abilities and tributes of leaders, but all three relied on others for their ability to save loved ones. Not one of them could have done it alone, but all of them had the will, courage, and heart to take up the mantle of the hero. Overall, the heroes of a tale need to find something more than themselves to accomplish anything in the world. Hesitation can kill you, but so can lack of trust for those around you. The reason characters, in my opinion, defend those they love, is so they can help to exemplify their own personalities.

Growth, power, and wisdom come from these personality traits, but nothing can stop a hero who is trying to save a loved one. Few people will admit that heroes can ever take away something from themselves without first giving. As such, in real life, heroes are crafted by their actions. So too are we, and the characters. The just is that while many rely on powers and those around them, it’s what comes inside that helps to define who we are as heroes, saving out loved ones.

Creative Assignment: Part VIII

Chapter VIII: The Beginning of the End

            “Gah!” Tamara cried as flesh melted off her shoulder. She dealt the finishing blow to the Flame Giant and her attention was now on the Wooden Man.

            The fight between The Faerie of the Wind and Lady Ice escalated into the clouds and out of site. Lightning, cold rain droplets, and thunderous sounds emerged from the clouds, but the two sister’s physical forms were not seen.

            “Focus… Focus…” Tamara concentrated, shrugging off the pain.

            She had just defeated a giant. Her confidence levels spiked. With a quick dash, she ran towards the Wooden Man, slashing through the vulnerable tree-creatures in her way.

            The Wooden Man turned to her, looked over at the fallen Flame Giant and sighed.

            “What a pity. One more homo sapien to eradicate… Oh! And this one has a shiny sword.” He licked hi solid lips and gazed at the woman coming towards him. “This should be fun!”

            The fight between the Wooden Man and Tamara raged on. Tamara came out victorious and falling from the sky came The Faerie of the Wind. Rushing to meet her, Tamara was met with a cold hand.
            “Foolish child… Did you think you could beat me?!” The Lady Ice threatened. 

Creative Assignment: Part VII

Chapter VII: The Battle

“We’ve arrived, Savior.” The Faerie of the Wind said. Her arm lifted, pointer finger outstretched towards the chaos that lay just beyond the mountains that they stood.

“It’s… a massacre… So much worse than I thought.” Tamara replied.

Without turning her head to look at the young warrior, The Faerie of the Wind pointed in another direction. Towards the other Elementals. “Those are your targets.”

Tamara turned her head to see what the Fae had pointed at. A small brown figure with a cloak in the distance, his arms waving left and right, ordering the minion below. Millions of them. The trees that had once been planted stationary were now moving, destroying civilization left and right.

Her gaze tuned in more to see a large body made of flames and thick rock thrashing his mighty weapon through cities. Though without hesitation, Tamara gripped her sword and inhaled deep, focusing her energy on what was to happen next.

“Well, hello Big Sister…” A soft yet seductive voice came from behind them. “I didn’t think you’d show…”
            The Faerie of the Wind reacted with calm. She turned towards the Lady Ice and glared. “What you are doing. It is against the prophecy.”

Tamara turned to see the gorgeous blue-skinned woman and raised her weapon in reaction.

“No.” The Faerie of the Wind put her hand up. “This one is mine, Savior.”

“Oh… Heh-heh… You have a Savior now?” Lady Ice cackled in replied.

Tamara nodded, then turned back towards the other two Elementals, deciding on which one to fight first.

“You’re going to lose you know.” Lady Ice cursed. “Die a horrible… horrible death… Sweet dear little child.”

“Don’t listen to her.” The Faerie of the Wind interrupted. “Her words poison the mind.”
            Ignoring the Lady Ice, Tamara jumped down the side of the cliff, sliding down and rushing towards the Flame Giant.

Scoffing, Lady Ice glared and attempted to blast a ray of ice cones at the Savior, only to be blocked by the energy shield of The Faerie of the Wind as she moved in the way.

“Like I said… You are my fight, Sister. The Savior is not your fight.”

Creative Assignment: Part VI

Chapter VI: Training

            Several months passed by and Tamara had learned the horrors of the world, but also accomplished incredible feats of strength, speed, endurance, and skill. Her training with the energy sword had also been far outclassed from her previous days. The sky was dark, as it had been since The Day. Tamara stood outside looking up into the grey sky as droplets of rain dripped from her face.

            “I never realized how beautiful it was.” Tamara said.

            “Sometimes we find beauty in the darkest of times.” The Faerie of the Wind replied.

            “Yeah, but… In just a few days I’ll be taking on these beasts… The ones you call ‘Elementals’. But you haven’t told me anything about them. Shouldn’t I know their weaknesses?” Tamara questioned, her eyes still starring into the cloudy sky above.

            “Knowing the weakness of our opponent won’t always be why makes you the victor.”

            “But it will most of the time…” Tamara replied, chuckling as she looked down at the beautiful fey.

            Without a verbal reaction, The Faerie of the Wind turned to face the young girl. She lifted her hands and chanted a few words in a foreign language. “Juis allor’a endei arta!”

            The world in an instant became brighter. The dark clouded receded overhead and the bright sun shined down upon the land, caressing Tamara with its warmth and creating a reaction of an even larger smile.

            “H-how did you do that?”

            “Sometimes… instead of knowing an enemy’s weakness. We simply outwit them at their own game.” The Faerie of the Wind winked. 

Creative Assignment: Part V

Chapter V: The Savior

            “I sure hope my parents come back soon.” Tamara said with a look of gloom on her face.

            The weather continued to get worse. Heavy rain poured all over the crops and Tamara was forced to stay inside.

            “Ugh. I’m not going to let a little rain get me down.” She said. “Now where did I put that bokken?”

            Remembering she put her wooden sword in a corner of the kitchen, Tamara left her bedroom and went to find it. But when she got there it was missing. The dark clouds outside covered what little light protruded through the windows. Tamara lit a candle, searching once again for the bokken.    

            “Now where could it be…”

            Just then her candle whished out. A beautiful blow glow formed in the middle of the kitchen and floated gentle to the surface of the table. As the brightness disappeared, a small yet beautiful creature appeared.

            “Greetings Tamara.” The Faerie of Wind said with calm.

            Tamara stood back, her eyes wide with curiosity. Her father taught her long ago not to fear those which she does not know, and instead to accept each moment as if it were a different one. With a light bow, Tamara greeted the creature in return.

            “Y-your… beautiful…” Was all she could manage.

            The Faerie of the Wind chuckled. Her voice carried with it a peaceful melody that melted young Tamara’s heart. “Thank you, mortal lady.” She replied.

            “What are you doing here?” Tamara decided to ask.

            “You’ve been chosen, Tamara.”

            “I have? For what?” Skeptical, Tamara took a seat and leaned forward closer to the naked creature before her. “I mean… I’m just a young girl.”

            “To be the Savior, of course.” The Faerie of Wind replied. In her hands was a smaller version of the bokken she was looking for. Recognizing it, Tamara’s eyes widened with surprise.

            “That’s my…” Tamara managed.

            The Faerie of the Wind fluttered back, leaving a trail of golden sparks. When she was off the table, the beautiful creature transformed into a more human-like form. The bokken, held in her hands the entire time, now a radiant sword, crackling with energy.

            “Sword…?” The Faerie of the Wind finished. “Yes, and now you will learn to save the world with it.” 

Creative Assignment: Part IV

Chapter IV: The Faerie of Wind

            Overlooking the world below The Faerie of the Wind began to cry. Her diamond-like tears caused the Earth to shower in rain, causing windstorms all through the land. Oh, the dread she felt in her soul as the inner-demons of the world took over… drawing the real ones out.

            “No… Please not again.” Her voice like a bell, each word rung like the melodic beauties of angels singing. “Poor humanity… again the world shall be covered in darkness, only to be replenished by the Wave that once destroyed your demons.”

            The Faerie of the Wind, covered in fluorescent white robes, glided down towards the planets stratosphere. Her nipples perked from the excitement of dread, though her stomach was solid and tight from the horrors that she knew she was about to face. Angelic in body, but without emotion save one: Fear.

            As the angelic being floated down to the earth’s level, she saw them. The others. The Flame Giant had already begun his destructive march across the European continent. The Lady Ice, her very own half-sister, had begun her rampage of covering Asia and the Australian coast in a wasteland of frost and death. And the Wooden Man, marching through the America’s, activated his armies and was slaughtering everything in his wake.

            “Am I too late!?” The Faerie of Wind cried.

            But a spark of hope soon filled her vision. Down below in a rural area of the coldest reaches of the Upper Peninsula of the World, there shined a beacon of hope. While the world’s armies had been obliterated, a young woman, unaware of the chaos around her planet, was practicing with a wooden sword.

            “I see… hope in this mortal… For once.” The Faerie of Wind reacted. “Perhaps she will be the New Savior.” 

Creative Assignment: Part III

Chapter III: The Flame Giant

The mountain atop the highest point of the world began to rupture. Nothing could stop its flames. Impending doom harked for those nearby, and within several hundred miles’ alarms blared. Men, women and children scuttled as quick as they could to find transport far away, but the eruption came too fast.

Charred and stained by the fabrics of the earth, those caught in its wave of terror melted to the ground below, mixing with the dirt. Those who survived were caught in a terrible stroke and collapsed moments later from lack of oxygen. Soon from out of the volcano seeped a nightmarish liquid. A combination of blood red with black veins, it creeped down the side of the mountain and to the city below, covering it in its glory.

With a sudden movement, the ooze formed into a humanoid body, towering above the entire land and peering around as if to take in his wonderful masterpiece of death and carnage around.

“Finally… I am awakened… But for what purpose?” The Flame Giant said.

Fire and sparks crackled from his forehead, causing a smoky atmosphere in the clouds. His eyes were the shape of a dragon’s, while his lips were formed like a man. Scaled armor decorated his body in the bloody black color ooze he formed from. A large malice appeared in his hands which oozed with lava, causing giant holes of emptiness to form in the earth below.

“Mmm…” He mumbled, scanning the geography before him.

“So the others have acted. The homo sapiens have begun to fall… It is indeed the time to strike…” The Flame Giant let out a deep laugh which shook the earth, causing a quake that decimated what little buildings still stood.

Marching forward to the battle, The Flame Giant went. Causing chaos in his wake. 

Creative Assignment Part II

Chapter II: Lady Ice

“Death may take us, but life will break us…” The Lady Ice announced, her bright blue lips exhaling a subtle mist of air at each word she spoke.

The thousands of soldiers dressed in metallic armor made of ice stood at attention as she spoke. Their eyes only on the mistress before them that would command and ultimately demand their lives. Crackling sounds emanated from the frozen walls all around the inside of the cavern as they spoke.

“Aye ma’am!” They called in unison, snapping their feet together at parade rest. “Long live the Lady Ice! Long live the Icy Wonder of the World! Long live the forever Hel of frozen solitude!”
            The Lady Ice grinned wide. Her majestic form swaying back and forth in a melodic trance. She was covered in a long winter robe made of materials never seen by mortal eyes. In her hand was a large staff with a single blue gem atop it, held fast by a dragon’s claw.
            “Now go. Go my army of Frozen Tundra. Destroy what remains of the humans, for now in their final hours they will succumb to eternal winter!” The Lady Ice demanded, her cackle echoing through every soldier’s ears.
            As if in a robotic trance, the army performed an about face and marched out of the tunnel. The Lady Ice floated into the air, crossing her arms and the staff about her bosom and chanting in a foreign tongue.

“N’yet da’it inguit. N’yet da’it inguit. N’yet dait inguit!” She spoke with ease.
            A large orb of ice began to form around her, covering her body in a three-hundred and sixty-degree vortex of power. The crackling force burned into the frozen walls around her. Her voice and mood changed as quick as she had cast the spell. Dark violet eyes now took over what baby blues she once had.
            “Destroy them all!” She said with malice.

Creative Assignment I

Chapter I: The Wooden Man

 “With that wretched Chromatic Queen gone we can finally achieve our goal of world domination,” the Wooden Man declared. “And once we have taken out the Metallic King… more than just the world will be ours… The entirety of all inhabitants upon this planet shall be under our control.”

A soft breeze wisped past the Wooden Man, his brown hooded tunic flapping in the wind to the rhythm of the air, helping to give his yellow fangs an even more monstrous appearance. To his side stood a woman at shoulder level. Her fiery hair matching the pace in the wind of his own jet black hair, though her face was less cynical than his and more angelic.

“Yes, your Lordship…” She said in obedience, nuzzling her pink cheek against his swollen muscular arms. “All shall be yours.”

The air was damp. The sky above fell into darkness as the golden orb retreated and it seemed as though Father Time Himself was fearful of the days ahead. Echoes of laughter could be heard down the steppes on the surface below them. Mortal men and women cheering away at the celebration both of kindness and guilt as they drank their worries away.

“The fools.” The Wooden Man said.

“My love?” The Fiery Hair woman asked out of curiosity. Her jade eyes meeting his. Though without turning to look into her eyes, the Wooden Man stared down at the mortals.

“They celebrate their achievement of grandiose imagination… Illusions! Trickery! That’s all these mortals dabble in… Barely holding together. Each year more chaotic than the last. Yet they think they are superior. These homo sapiens will find themselves inferior by the eve of ‘morrow’s end…”    

Down the hills the sound of the Wooden Man’s haunting cackle of laughter could be heard. But not a single soul below heard it, for in their partying and celebration of life they knew nothing of the death that was to become them the next night. 

Reaction 7: "A Girl and Her Monsters"

This week I wanted to post my crafted poem that I made for my LITR322 class, another in Spenserian stanza, and inspired by the book series "Witch on the Broom" as well as the overall theme of women combating their demons and monsters within them to be better or at least equal to men.

The poem was written for my daughter and I read it out loud here:
Otherwise, here is the poem! Please enjoy.

I will have one more week of blog posts about poetry and then I plan to move on to my travels when I take my family to Florida next week. Some thing to look forward are: food and business reviews, movie reviews, and another travel translation companion! Stay tuned!




“A Girl and her Monsters”

Once upon a time there lived a small girl, [a]

Near the castle made of beautiful gems. [b]

A quaint little girl whose beauty was pearl, [a]

Her bold mind always sought truth in life’s stems. [b]

Though unlike her King who lived on the Thames, [b]

Her heart was with the moon that lived in truth. [c]

But then one day her pa did say “Your hems [b]

my darling will bless you always with youth” [c]

And with a smile and kiss her pa spoke sooth. [c]

Up on learning of the beautiful girl, [a]

The King sent his Knight of gold to find her. [b]

Moon did see Gold when the Knight came with twirl, [a]

Taking her breath with his beautiful blur. [b]

In her hand he left a beautiful fleur. [b]

Her heart in that moment felt like the sun, [c]

The wind took her breath and words as a slur. [b]

Bright as the day but at night would be done, [c]

She spoke in kind lest she fall for his stun. [c]

“Dear knight sir knight what do you need my knight?” [a]

The knight with a smile did reply “You [b]

are summoned by the King my little sprite.” [a]

“Oh dear” she replied with a crimson flu. [b]

Her pa looked to the Knight of Gold and knew, [b]

“My lovely daughter, do go to your call [c]

This life o’ yours will in deed carry through” [b]


So the Moon left with the Gold to the Hall, [c]

And soon met the King who stood proud and tall. [c]

The King brought up a gem of arcane light, [a]

That flickered and beamed across the hall. [b]

He said with a grin “For you dear to fight, [a]

this weapon you comes from a cross the Gaul, [b]

and with it you shall never stop or fall.” [b]

So the girl nodded and a greed forth with [c]

“What shall I do my lord if I meet thrall? [b]


The girl replied not being a blacksmith. [c]

“Worry not little girl you will find pith” [c]

“Now on with the task, I ask that you go, [a]

Into the woods where there you face monsters [b]

Wicked and haunted they will fight with know, [a]

The monsters have already made their slaughter [b]

Of all knights here but not across water. [b]

No one left to fight well except for ye, [c]

Please forgive my hasty imprimatur. [b]

Cry the girl did not for she was to be[c]

A hero for once in a world lacking Free[c]




Several days passed and more did come, [a]

The little girl found herself in the woods, [b]

Heading towards the forest feeling numb. [a]

The sun was high in the sky as she stood, [b]

Looking at a truly wondrous dog wood. [b]

It rose highest of the trees in the sky, [c]

But from a branch up in the dog tree would [b]


Be the monster hauntingly standing by, [c]

As it bared its fangs howling a cry. [c]

It jumped down before her before she [a]

Could move but out came her weapon ready, [b]

As she stood. She held it tight as can be. [a]

But the monster one slash it took already, [b]

She ducked and dodged so unsteadily, [b]

Before she could fight back, the evil monster [c]

Swung hard but fell unintentionally. [b]


Then from deep inside she finally conjured [c]

The will to fight back and finally conquer. [c]

With a howl and a yowl, the monster fell, [a]

By the hand of the little girl and passed. [b]

She took a deep breath and could heard a yell, [a]

And before her eyes more monsters in mass. [b]

So she drew up her sword once more with class, [b]

Fighting to save her kingdom from the foes [c]

Though the creatures of darkness amass [b]


In groups they still could not win to her blows [c]

For Ever fighting in the woods no one knows[c]

Reaction 6: "War Within"

This week I would like to reflect on moments in war when a soldier is faced not just with the physical issues but the inward, logistical, and personal issues. Inspiration comes this week from the poems I read with the themes of ‘war’ in mind including Robert Lowell’ “For the Union Dead” and Karl Shapiro’s “Troop Train.”

Much of what has and hasn’t been said will always remain hidden with the wells of one’s soul. Nonetheless, one must deal with these issues or forever face an immortal nightmare. While I was not in combat in the military per se, I was in a combat all my own.

October of 2015 I had a lot of issues with my unit between harassment, disregard of my heritage, and religious bias. My life flipped over, just as suddenly as the Troop Train did during World War II. And like Lowell’s message and perspective of a horror story from a soldier, I have one to tell as well… but that is for another day. Today is another poem I would like to simply call “War Within”

“War Within”

The War,
It rages,
It burns,
It destroys.

But nothing can stop its flame,
Until you find a way.
The war within is
Always outside of us,
Even when we
Are looking in.

If War can cause chaos,
So peace can cause war.
This is the mentality,
Of the Prisoners
Of War.

But the war within,
Rages and burns,
Destroys and devours,
All of our soul.

Nothing can stop it,
At least with force.
But give it some life,
And maybe you’ll lose,
Remorse.

War Within,
Never without,
If one takes his soul,
Through the iron Hels of doubt.

Reaction 5: "Little Birdy" and "The True Slave"

This week I would like to talk about how the term “race” does not make sense and at the same time, truly upsets me. It makes me realize how ignorant the world is. From one person’s perspective race could be identified as separation of genes, inherent in the subject’s species. But for a wide majority, it seems, race applies to a species as well.

In the early 1900’s an extremely interesting movement occurred: The Harlem Renaissance. It brought to life ideas of race, and how, as Langston Hughes put it, “blacks” should be proud of their race and not try to be so “white.” The flaw here, in my opinion (and particularly today) is that we are all one race. All Human. All Homo Sapien.

Needless to say, the struggle with these weeks poetry have been emotional and at a deeply painful surge of doubt. I want a stronger, better future of people, of humanity. And thus, I hope you will enjoy my inspiration for today’s poems: “Little Birdy” and “The True Slave”



“Little Birdy”

Within the mind’s eye
Eye’s I, I see,
Sits a little birdy,
I, with an eye, see.
Look a little closer,
Birdy, birdy, birdy.
Caught yourself in the net.
Eye, I, my eye sees.

Left alone little birdy,
And soon the world free.



“The True Slave”



Slavery is made of madness,
Madness found within sadness,
And sadness found within madness.
But slave madness is not sadness,
Nay it is but ill madness.

The True Slave is total madness,
Compelled by only sadness,
But what is the true slave?
Nothing but madness and sadness.

The world speaks with broken lips,
But nothing upon which it can kiss.
Subtle, seductive, slowly serpentine,
Slavery soothes sleepless sours.
True Slavery eats up all hours.

Lost in a puzzle of the mind,
Deciding what is truly kind.
Madness and sadness overrun,
In a world of forgot Sons.
The True Slave awaits.

Reaction 4: Likes, Theories, and Poem #4 "What Kissed the Moon"

This week falls in line with Week Four of my American Poetry class at AMU, and today I will be briefly touching on a few poems I enjoyed this week, a new theory in way of thinking of poems as 'good' or 'bad', and, of course, my own poem inspired by some readings this week!


Carl Sandburg's' "Grass", Edna St. Vincent Millays' "What Lips My Lips Have Kissed, and Where, and Why" and "Love is Not All: It is Not Meat Nor Drink", and Robert Frosts' "Fire and Ice" have all been my top three authors and top poems of required reading for Week Four of my Poetry class.


I greatly enjoyed Sandburg's' "Grass" and Robert Frosts' "Fire and Ice", for one, because of the title. It reminded me of [forgive my age] Pokemon, and more importantly elements of the earth. Now, traditionally I would not copy and paste my forum assignment, but I wanted to share both: The assignment is to show how there is delight in the beginning and wisdom in the end as Frost shares in his "The Figure a Poem Makes."


Carl Sandburg’s “Grass” versus Robert Frost’s “Fire and Ice”

If you were a Pokémon trainer or a Frozen fan, you’re sure to get a kick out of my somewhat translucent metaphors here… but then again, what is more attainable in knowledge and wisdom than soaking in the elements of Nature herself?

Sandburg’s “Grass”, at first glance, may appear to be a nod towards the post-matter of a horrible event. The poem begins with “Pile the bodies high at Austerliz and Wasterloo” (1), two battles in Europe each with a very significant role in the war, the former being Napoleon’s greatest victory over the Russians (Hickman Web), while the latter being a defeat of Napoleon by a united coalition of international armies (History.com Staff). Nonetheless, the importance of this line, and thus wisdom enhancing mentioning, helps allude to the message, theme, and overall significance of the poem.

The poem is telling a story of wars that had stained the fields with blood, and now have regrown with grass. While in of itself, this poem does not seem to have any wisdom behind, but the wisdom is within the message. Where there is the worst possibility of humankind, there will always be nature to reclaim it. (Bulbasaur use leech seed!).

The poem, “Fire and Ice”, by Robert Frost, may seem to have a more less blunt message, relating the world towards seeing the truth within real elemental madness and hate. It begins with an age long question of if “the world will end in fire” (1), with some saying it will end “in ice” (2). Then it seems as if Frost is agreeing that he does “hold with those who favor fire” (4), but find more destruction if he died more than once that ice could be more deadly (5-9). Again, this might seem wisdom-inspiring, but the truth is in the text. Sometimes the icy ones will kill you quicker. Sometimes it’s not the heat that will melt you down but the ice that will do much worse. I mean, after all, Elsa let go and you saw what happened…

My conclusion: Both poems radiate with an abundance of wisdom inspiring ideas and truths, and through these feelings comes a general gratitude and delight for each. “Grass” gives us the experience of understanding that there is always life after the troubling times, and “Fire and Ice” tell us not to mess with crazy Ice Witches… Baba Yaga, anyone?


I enjoyed Edna St. Vincent Millays' "What Lips My Lips Have Kissed, and Where, and Why" and "Love is Not All: It is Not Meat Nor Drink" because it had a real down-to-earth, gritty, yet serious tone to it. Very nice to hear from a lady's mind her philosophy on regret and what is most important in life. Sort of takes that stereotype that woman are all love-begging and attention seeking and shows that even back then women were taking some sort of stand... maybe?


As for my philosophy of how poetry is good or bad... to be honest I am seeing even more enjoyment in poems. I see good in poems that others despise or dislike. Lately, some fellow students have shown a disinterest in some of the reading through their text, so it's a bit odd that I am [again] the odd ball who sees the good in everything.


Onward to the poem!


What inspired me was the Edna's realism and Frost/Sandburg's elemental themes. I chose the moon because it looked gorgeous tonight under the stars. It's finally cool here in Arkansas, at a comfortable 59 degree's Fahrenheit.


In the military 'kissing ass' was a common term. When someone first gets to their base and immediately 'kisses ass' whether intentional or not, there are always repercussions whether through the person's ass being kissed or another party.


"What Kissed the Moon"


Oh scarlet lies of hefty loot,

Save your self from the boot.

For in time there can only tell,

A commanders broken shell.


Stripes and decorations can never swoon,

The gentleman's truth in kissing the moon.


O' What kissed the moon I dare to say,

Splendid library I stay all day.

To read and to write throughout the night,

Until the swarm of letters take Flight.


O' say that you may be a' boon'd

For that which kissed the moon.


Alas! Now you see A' One See,

That a boon and a stripe can't be.

Lest you save your self from a boot,

Think you not that this is cute.


For behind a man can be too soon,

To truly learn what kissed the moon.

Work Cited

Frost, Robert. "Fire and Ice." Bartleby.com. 25 September 2016. http://www.bartleby.com/155/2.html


Hickman, Kennedy. "Napoleonic Wars: Battle of Austerlitz". About.com. 26 September 2016. http://militaryhistory.about.com/od/napoleonicwars/p/austerlitz.htm


Sandburg, Carl. "Grass". Poets.org. 25 September 2016. https://www.poets.org/poetsorg/poem/grass


Staff, History.com. "Battle of Waterloo." History.com. 26 September 2016. http://www.history.com/topics/british-history/battle-of-waterloo#

Reaction 3: An American Response

Once again I will be delivering a poem in the form of a reply to Walt Whitman's "America", which I found quite wonderful and simple at the same time. Over the last few weeks in my America Poetry class I have been reading tons of samples from various authors, though none so far have come to touch me positively as Walt Whitman has. In "America" he speaks of his desire for how he thinks this beautiful country should be, relating to ideas including equality, fairness, endurance, rich, and strong to a list of desires for the peoples. So, as in good gesture, I would like to reply to him as a 21st century American who has seen and experienced much of the world, by introducing him to the "new" but not necessarily envisioned America he was hoping for. Enjoy!

Land of the Brave, Not of the Free:

Dear vizier of grand dreams and freedom rings,

What pity sight had laid to ease

O' this country of ours we dare call home,
For not land of free tis not but a loan.

O' grand magister of wit and wail,

Forgive me ser for there's naught avail.

The Land of the Brave, Not of the Free

Callings of desire enduring in steed.

Hark through the ages Freedom is swayed,

For politics bleeds us dry without dismay.

O' grand magister of Time beloved,

Free not my soul from this horrid bind'd

Thy supple hands of talent and woe,

Couldst last not one night in this horrible low.

Tho' beseech you I may for all is not lost,
Freedom still rings while Others are tossed.

O' grand magister of Time be

Enlight me your wisdom to set me Free. 

Reaction 2: Poetry

For the next few weeks I will be doing these "reaction" poems that are, in essence, replies for my school to various poems I am reading. In week two, [this post] I will be focusing on Ralph Waldo Emerson's "Fable" poem. 

Ah, Fable's... a delicious adventure for a cup of tea and a kitty spree. All the while marching together in the wind while... speaking? 

I enjoy Fable's and find them quite wonderful merely for the fact that I am a huge animal lover anyways and to think of an animal speaking would be awesome. Surely most of you have heard of the famous Fable "Animal Farm" and its gritty world, but Ralph Emerson's "Fable" is not nearly as gritty. 

While the squirrel and mountain had a quarrel... it was not exactly a complete war, as was seen in "Animal Farm". 

Now then, in reaction to this weeks poem I will attempt to do a 'reply' to the poem, utilizing the same style of rhythm and rhyme. In essence, this is a living reply to "Fable". Please enjoy.

A Fable Story: Mountains Reply to the Squirrel 

While the squirrel and the mountain
Were having their discussion
And the latter called the former 'Little Prig.'
Cliff laughed,

'You endure my skin little pig;
Yet spout to me about weather
When it is only us together
That emphasizes quite clear

I am linear.
And I think it quite disgrace
That you occupy my space.
Not as large as me you are
Little bug beneath the stars.
I'll deny you all you take
Your pretty squirrel track;
Wisely put; your talent differs;
If you cannot lift a mountain back,
Nor can you understand my ciphers.'

My idea came with the mountain, being sturdy and strong as it is, resisting the squirrels claims and 'fighting' back with words to hopefully shoo the squirrel away.

 

Poem: Reaction

I decided to write a poem, titled Reaction, in reaction to reading the poems this week for my Introduction to American Poetry class. Something caused me to have a subtle yet curious reaction to a common denominator between the poems, that ‘something’ being religion. In each of the readings this week there is some religious / spiritual idea supporting the writer / character and either references it by ‘god’ or ‘goddess’… So in reaction I would like to write my thoughts on this particular finding.

Reaction


If a poem were to allow,

Nothing in it but a crowd,

Of people who do dream,

Something without a team.

Cannot be strong without
A gods will throughout.


What then is the idea thought?

To cause such worry and doubt?

Because without Him or Her

I am truly undoubtedly unsure.

Cannot be strong without
A gods will throughout.


Yet when I look in the sky,

All I see is you and Eye,

But when the chaos ensues

Nothing ever right I choose.

Cannot be strong without
A gods will throughout.


This is my reaction
This is my action
Take a step back and see
All that is there before me.


Because I can be strong without
A gods will throughout.

How to Read a Poem

How to Read a Poem

“Reading poetry well is part attitude and part technique” writes Edward Hirsch, emphasizing the idea that having an emotion to back up some form of skill that is further enforced by a set of ‘ground rules’ for literacy and writing is what poetry’s about. But nothing denotes further from the truth than grounding one’s idea that a poem is exactly the way an individual wants it to be. On the contrary, poetry is not theory or philosophy, but rather the poet’s rendition of a sense of attitude and technique, not the interpretation of it. The struggle is finding that answer: What does the poem mean overall?

Some poets themselves answer the question to finding that answer, as William Carlos Williams entails that a reader must “’complete’ what the poet has begun’”. Again, the answer does not come from within, but through the text of the poem itself.

To do this, many steps may be involved but to simplify how to read a poem I will break it down into three simple steps, enforced by research of others [such as Edward Hirsch].

Besides obviously reading the poem, and for some reading aloud is appropriate as well, I would suggest going through each line and answering the ‘who, what, where, when, why’ questions. Who is the reader? Is it the author of it is the lover, friend, doctor, enemy, priest, etc.? What is the poem talking about? War, hunger, feelings, etc.? Where is the poem taking place [and more so] when is the poem taking place [year, age, etc.]… And finally, why is the poet crafting his or her art into a literary form?

As Edward Hirsch mentions, “Talking Back to [the] Poem” by asking questions such as who the speaker is, what circumstances gave rise to the poem, what kind of figurative language, if any, does the poem use, etc. will help understand the answers.

The next key step is to hone in on specific words that shine, adverbs, people, places, etc. Not to answer the metaphysical questions, but to simple observe them and let it sink in, which will lead naturally into the last phase: connecting.

Finally, try to connect to something within the poem in order to make it feel real for you. While poetry is something we cannot interpret individually and be correct without proper investigation, we can, however, make it a part of our lives.

Overall reading poetry is about figuring out what the poetry is from a metaphysical standpoint and not allowing your own opinion to interfere with the sole purpose of its [the poems] objective.

Poetry: Fantasy Fighter

Fantasy Fighter was something I came up with while listening to Pandora and some action music. I had just finished writing a paper from my Wizardry class on how Magick is applied in real life and took concepts from it to craft this paper. The poem is meant to reflect an author who write fantasy fiction and how an ordinary person can relate to the fantasy as a way of dealing with their own personal problems as reflected by characters. It Part I because Part II, III, and IV are in progress. I developed an alphabetical theme to it and wrote in rhythmic meter to vary the sentences while adding some methodical flow. The mood I wrote this in was very energetic… Afterall, two cups of Turkish coffee is bound to get the blood flowing. Nothing can really beat a good cup of coffee, good music, a good mood, and writing!

Fantasy Fighter Part I

Fantasies will always save us,
Fantasies will always be thus,
The Magic that carries us,
Through despair and stress.

Awaken the senses within,
Become the senses throughout,
Challenge the senses of sin,
Defeat the senses of doubt.

Fantasy fighters are forever might,
Moving through valleys of shadow and death,
Tallying enemies left and right,
Ripping apart conflicts of breath.

Evoke the senses chance,
Follow the senses power,
Gather the senses stance.
Harrow the senses tower.

Fantasies come and go,
Ne’er bother till you stow,
Your life without a blow.
From your hearts final show.

Poetry: Thy Hath Not a Title in Thou

Thy Hath not a Title in Thou was written by me in 10^th grade for a Shakespeare poetry class in which I ‘on the spot’ came up with the poem.  I came up with this and throughout the years have crafted it, though I edited a few spots, it was for the most part done. Its purpose is to invoke a sense of never giving up on oneself or the thing/person you love, and the time old saying of “to thine own self be true.” When I wrote this poem I was in a very focused mood and remember the day as if it was yesterday. The teacher gave us the assignment and within ten minutes I had it completed. She was so impressed by it she had me read it in front of the class. In fact, reflecting on that moment I would like to share that it is one of the primary inspirations for me wanting to become a writer in the first place. 

Thy Hath Not a Title in Thou

Alas tis true for thou art lonesome in this bitter world,
Yet to thee true self that thou art live,
Lonesome is but a swept moment dream,
Wither into my artless veins to which I live,
Oh cruel world why leave thou?
For where am I to stand in this bitter lonesome heap?
For that thou art so true,
Yet thy love burns strong within thou flesh!
Wilt I know not thy thought of love?
Or does thy thought I live within...
Murderous thoughts inside me thick skull,
That I ponder without my own satisfaction,
Will surely thou not know?
I only wish upon thy words,
To love and care for thee till me days end,
Oh cruel world fate it leaves me too,
Or does the light from the forbidden Ra gleam in me eyes,
The light from thine sun god must forbid me vision from thou love,
If tis true shall I fight?
Aye, thy fight is within thy self and to thyself I shall stand strong,
For to give in now is to be worsened by thy death,
Never more my love, never more will I cease to pain...
Promise this is to me,
That I shall never leave thou heart and stand true...

Poetry: El Poem De La La La

El Poem De La La La is a satire poem on language and how it is a connecting factor between worlds… Not to mention its importance on the human brain (which I did not get into). I wrote it in one sitting, did not edit anything because it came straight from my heart and felt it was a one-done piece. I was quite happy to write this piece because it was an outlet of my subtle anger that built up over the years for those who are close minded to understanding language as a bridge between worlds (literally).

El Poem De La La La

So many times I hear you complain,

Making the same mistakes over and over again,

About what I am saying it isn’t for shame,

But now here I am speaking for gain.

My language makes your mouth so sour,

Because I know so many words per hour,

That you hesitate to think straight coward,

So bring it on and let’s take this a step louder!

La La La, the poem I can speak,

La La La, c’est French to me but junk to you,

La La La, you dun say ‘Merika

La La La, I say Hysterical.

So take a step back and think,

Before your world dies out in a blink,

All you know and all you are,

Can’t possibly get you very far.

For with lack of respect,

For brothers all around the world,

Causes all this damn disrespect,

Will follow you to the underworld.

La La La, the words that I speak,

La La La, follow me and my path to l33t,

La La La, or get crushed by Russkii Rhythm

La La La, and feel the world as a cataclysm.

Open your mind my friend,

Seek that which has always been within,

Knowledge, language, love and compassion,

Has always been about the human nation.

Je ne sais pas the world is so round,

But entiendo that life is bound,

Za La La La en route,

So just let it all go and shout, shout, shout! 

Critical Update

Hey everyone, how's it going!

So recent events have created a slight stall in my posts, but no worries! I will be picking up the pace quite soon. Recently I started two more new classes towards my B.A. in English at American Military University, and a few weeks ago we came up to Michigan to visit some family.

During our time here I have collected a few beautiful businesses to add to my repertoire of Business Reviews, in addition to three upcoming articles I hope to sell, and a few blogs including another t.v. series review!

Stay tuned for all the greatest information in a positive, straight forward, and honest review!

Goku "Silver Dragon" Cloud

Poetry Read Aloud: Mab's Winter Knight

Quick Travel Guide: USA (Michigan)

Hey everyone! My wife, daughter and I are visiting my parents here in Michigan, so I thought I would do another Quick Travel Guide for those visiting or interested in visiting "The Great Lake's State."

Introduction: Michigan is a Chippewa transliterated French word for "Large water" or "Large lake", appropriately enough. Michigan became the 26th official state of the United States of America and is currently (2016) the 10th most populated state. Michigan itself is split into an upper and lower peninsula. The lower resembling a hand or glove, while the upper looking like a large fish. Located south of the Canadian border, Michigan lies east across Lake Michigan from Wisconsin, north of Illinois, Indiana, and Ohio, and west of the hook of Canada and further more to Pennsylvania. 

Among the Great Lakes surrounding Michigan are: Lake Michigan (west), Lake Huron (north east), Lake St. Clair (east), and between the upper peninsula and Canada is Lake Superior (north). 

Current Governor: Rick Snyder, Republican, 48th Governor of Michigan. 

Rick Snyder

Within Michigan are numerous large cities with many fun and interesting things to do and see, including:

Lansing; The capital of Michigan and very close to where my family stays. Lansing (specifically, East Lansing) is home to Michigan State University and a plethora of choices in the restaurant, clubbing/nightlife, and entertainment realm. Whether you like to go there for a botanical garden, incredible sushi, or just to have a peaceful walk in a beautiful area, Lansing is the place to go! Other notable things to do include; The Lansing Mall, Zap Zone, Rave Cinema, Bubble Island, and more!

Ann Arbor; Located in the east of the lower penisula and not far from Detroit, Ann Arbor is the home of the University of Michigan and, like Lansing, boasts a wide variety of things to do including shopping, restaurant hopping, unique book stores, and more! Notable businesses include; The Dawn Treador Bookstore, 

Detroit; Includes a beautiful and large Zoo, the Henry Ford historical museum, and the Detroit Museum of Arts in addition to many fabulous restaurants, shopping malls, and more. 

Battle Creek; Boasts a rare Museum of Cereal, Botanical Garden, Binder Park, and the Full Blast waterpark. 

Grand Rapids; Home of Grand Valley State University, Grand Rapids also includes beautiful art museums, The Bob, a Presidential and Public Museum.

Mackinaw Island; Is a wonderful place to go if you want to head north onto an island with great biking and touring experiences. Don't forget to check out Fort Mackinac, the Grand Hotel, and a plethora of beautiful upper-class restaurants.

Additional links to individual places will be added in the coming weeks! Stay tuned!

Haiku: Ostara o' Mine

This is a quick Haiku I assembled in a few minutes for my British Poetry class. I decided to focus on the Haiku poems, because it was territory undiscovered.

Ostara is the Goddess of fertility and new beginnings and is a Pagan Goddess which the Judeo-Christian’s incorporated as the holiday of Easter. In a story long passed, she breathed life into a vine and created spring. My inspiration comes from this family pass-me-down story that I have learned all my life. Another story, or continuation of this Haiku, is her creation of the rabbit which could lay eggs.

“Ostara o’ mine,

Breath o’ life into the vine,

Ever always thine.”

From the story of Ostara changing a bird who had been caught doing despicable acts and was cursed with death, the Goddess granted him a second chance and took as his ability to fly while retaining his ability to lay eggs and thus the Easter bunny was created.

 “O bird with death bed

Change thou body into hare

Spread thy egg all 'round.”

Poetry: Darkness Replies to Love

Hello everyone, this week I'll be again posting poetry. For this poem I decided to do a reply to both a reply to "The Passionate Shepherd to His Love" by Christopher Marlowe, and "The Nymph's Reply" by Sir Walter Raleigh at the same time. The character itself is manifesto of Darkness and the undeniable lust that lies within all sanctions of humanity. 

Feel free to compare this compare side-by-side with the other two at the same time! Enjoy!

Darkness Replies to Love

Silly Shepherd silly Nymph,
Both of you will face your lymph,
For petty hills and pleasures fall
To mortal affairs so very small.

Your times and rocks will always fail,
To bring about love through a sail.
When I rise there shall be nothing,
Except the art Your smiting.

Flowers and roses fade in time,
Don’t worry Love it is no crime,
Little Shepherd hath no purity,
For all he wishes is your chastity.

Gowns of darkness and of sleet,
Will cover caps of icy sheets.
For Shepherds pleasure shall not move
Your desires even beneath the moon.

Alas your last reply it is thus,
Lady love I give my lust.
For Shepherd writes two more times,
To apply his every dying rhymes.

Be his love and forever see,
That darkness will cover all thy tree,
Even if ivory shall be your branch,
I shant stop your overflowing stanch.

Now little Shepherd watch your Love,
Disappear into the Niles of the trove.
Darkness falls upon thy morning,
And all will be forever mourning.