With a twitch, I coughed, gasping for air. My whole body was wet, shivering, lying on the hard floor. To my right was the wooden trough resting on it’s side. It was empty now. All around me the cobblestone floor was wet.
Again Calls the Owl is a memoir written by Margaret Craven, about her life as a struggling author. Again calls the Owl takes place in the 1920’s, when Margaret Craven graduates from Stanford University. In the book, Margaret Craven also tells about different jobs she had when first starting out. Margaret Craven wanting to become a writer despite being blind works hard and perseveres through difficult times and wrote of an important time in her life while teaching a lesson to all of her readers.
‘For heaven’s sake, what's the matter?’ I asked annoyed. ‘ It's so pretty,’ he said, ‘so pretty, pretty, pretty.’ After that day Doodle and I often went down into Old Women Swamp” (Hurst). The narrator and Doodle form a stronger relationship when they visit the swamp because the narrator loves this swamp, so when he saw Doodle crying because he loved it so much, he reliesed that they have something in common.
Rhetorical Précis 1: In his essay, “ Love and Death in The Catcher in the Rye” (1991), Peter Shaw claimed that Holden behavior and way of thinking is due to common abnormal behavior in a certain time for teenagers (par. 10). Shaw supported his assertion of the young Holden by comparing the literary culture of the 1950s and how Holden’s fictional character fits within the contemporary Americans novels as a, “ sensitive, psychological cripples but superior character” (par. 3). Shaw’s purpose was to show that Holden’s sensitive and psychological behavior is not abnormal, but such like stated by Mrs. Trilling that,” madness is a normal, even a better then normal way of life” (par 4). Peter Shaw’s tone assumed a highly educated audience who is
In the poems “A Barred Owl” by Richard Wilbur and “The History Teacher” by Billy Collins, both poets portray how different explanations to children pan out. Both poems describe the speaker being dishonest to one or multiple students, however, one is more of a little white lie while the other is a lie on a much bigger scale. The first poem utilizes personification and humor to coax a child back to sleep by easing her fears. The second poem applies homonyms and hyperbole to maintain the innocence of a room full of students. Through the use of these different literary techniques, the poets are able to express how the adults provide an explanation for children.
I would say I really liked piecing the sonnet together more than anything else. At first I held a negative feeling about having to write a sonnet because I thought it was so dumb and dreaded having to deal with, not sure why I felt this way. Now looking at it I’ve discovered that it is probably one of my best piece of writing out of this whole unit or class in general. I proved myself wrong and somewhat enjoyed finding rhyming words and coming up with sentence and syllables to go along. Haikus are definitely the easiest thing to write while also holding a lot of meaning in them.
Ms. Samuel Good afternoon Ma 'am. I just want to follow up with you recent visit to Battle Creek. I was not able to attend the back brief you provided on your last day and I was wondering if you could share any information of what is next. I can tell you that are office was pleased to have someone listen and take our concerns seriously. I know we had an odd staff meeting this past Thursday where Abraham spoke about your visit and wanted to ask us in an open forum to talk about the visit but was unwilling to share with us the back brief you provided to the staff.
I'm not normally a fan of dialect, but I tell you, Mark Twain has given a fine example of the right way to do it. He is consistent in the spellings of the different words he uses and shows different ways of speaking for each of the characters. That is, they don't all sound alike. So it feels authentic. I really like that aspect.
I could smell the salty air once more and hear the sweet song of the seagulls soaring above. I stood right by Torri’s side admiring her beauty and the way the morning sun bounced off her glistening hair. Torri wore her favorite diamond earrings which she received on her seventeenth birthday; of course, I wanted a pair just like them. Without warning a large rock latched onto the back of my water shoe like a monster trying to escape the dark crevice down below. I could feel a tingling sensation in my toes as I turned to find my foot all contorted in an unnatural position.
The rain began to pour heavily. Soon after, the dirt beneath my feet became moist which made difficult to progress. My clothing became drenched. It was then I knew that I have failed. A feeling of sorrow filled my heart.
Powerful and pungent, rotting flesh has left its mark on this place, probably permanently. It has sunk into the wood, and now it lingers there – a constant reminder of what she doesn’t know. Foot by foot they dig their way down through the cedar and the pine; the closer they get to the ground, the further down they climb and the stronger the smell of decay becomes. It burns her nostrils, brings tears to her eyes. When she looks over at the boy, his own eyes are red, watery, and the girl imagines that the stink is even worse to his much more sensitive
The straightaway formed along the edge of the lake was filled to the brim with coatings of cinder, and it crunched uncomfortably against the shoes. But that was not the problem; it was the upcoming incline that approached us by the second. A vague voice called out that the mile time by the mark was 6:35. Then, unsurprisingly, the ground lurched upwards and the searing pain flushed through the body as I jammed my feet against the ground to claw up the hill. What was worse, however, was that the metatarsal bone creaked inside my foot with an excruciating throb.
Every day I ponder to myself “Marena just walk around it” but I always seem to be distracted bysomething that I forget and in my foot goes. The hole is nothing special really only about a foot wide and an inch deep. It looks almost like Tennessee from the side. It’s placed in the middle of the lines on the sidewalk. This simple hole, if even that is what you would consider it, makes me question and wonder so much about the things around me.
It was a warm summer night; the crickets were chirping and the moon was shinning bright on the black pavement. My feet pounded on the pavement and my heart was beating fast as I ran down the street. On my left was my old friend McKenna panting as we ran. We were running from my cousin who was ‘it’ in our hide-and-seek tag game. As I ran, I noticed the pavement was older and there were a few spots where the gravel was loose.
“We’re moving to North Carolina!” Exclaimed my father with particularly excited face. My heart dropped. I thought to myself “Was I really going to be ripped away from everything I’ve ever known?” I felt a cocktail of sadness and anxiety swirling in my gut as I ran out the door onto the porch in an indignant manor.
