My name? Oh, don't worry about that. But I know who you are and I've known for a very long time. I called you for a reason, Jane Margaret Berkshire. You'd best listen very carefully to everything I have to say. It'll go fast but you need to keep up. Your life depends on it.
I am an affiliate of a brotherhood. I could tell you our name but you wouldn't recognize it. We've had our eye on you and your sisters for some time now. We know that you are the great- granddaughter of the master sword-crafter Tetron Basaui. When he was young, he learned a secret of our brotherhood and he spread it around like wildfire. After many years of hunting and tracking, we've managed to destroy those who were told the secret so that soon it will belong only to the brotherhood again. You and your sisters know the secret. It was passed down in your family in the form of a lullaby sung before bed in order to burn it into your memory. Even your newborn child has heard it.
Now, my point. Jane. The brotherhood has captured your sisters. They won't survive the night. You are the brotherhood's next target. They are on their way to your house and should be there within the hour. You must escape with your child and leave your life behind. Leave your husband, leave the country, leave your name. You must be untraceable. The secret must live on through the Basaui line. The fate of the world may depend on it.
Who am I? A friend, for now. But hurry. You don't have much time.
*click*
Wednesday, March 19, 2008
Thursday, March 13, 2008
Hallucinations of eggs
Last Night I Dreamed of Chickens
by Jack Prelutsky
Last night I dreamed of chickens,
there were chickens everywhere,
they were standing on my stomach,
they were nesting in my hair,
they were pecking at my pillow,
they were hopping on my head,
they were ruffling up their feathers
as they raced about my bed.
They were on the chairs and tables,
they were on the chandeliers,
they were roosting in the corners,
they were clucking in my ears,
there were chickens, chickens, chickens
for as far as I could see...
when I woke today, I noticed
there were eggs on top of me.
2. This poem attracted me because of it playfulness. It's a happy poem, goofy, with interesting ideas. It begins frantic and startling with chickens and he doesn't know where they came from or why they were there. The chickens then seem to flood his mind, infecting his every thought until he's in a sea of poultry and he suddenly wakes up. The eggs that he finds question the reality of the chickens and suggest that the narrator might not be completely sane. Melding his dream world with his real world, the narrator's confusion and possible hallucinations illustrate a troubled man, lost in his obsessive delusions.
3. The title of this poem gives a preview of the main subject of the poem, dreaming of chickens. It also previews of the question of how much of the chickens is a dream, how much is reality, and how much is a hallucination.
4. One strategy the poet uses is to repeat "they were" at the beginning of almost every line. This speeds up the reading and makes the experience of the poem frantic. He also links some of his words using alliteration: "standing-stomach," "pecking-pillow," "hopping-head" It helps the lines to flow more smoothly and bouncy. He uses an ABCBDEFE rhyme pattern that also brings it together nicely. His list of "chickens, chickens, chickens" demonstrates the craziness that he's experiencing. The eggs at the end imply that more chickens will come, probably by the next night. This symbolizes that the narrator's insanity will never end, and the chickens will haunt him forever.
5. The tone begins happily and it's excitedly informative. Soon though, when the chickens keep coming, it becomes more a tone of panic. "Chickens" is a hard word with the plosive "ck" sound, as well as "clucking," and these words, when they're repeated more, cause an uneasy feeling. Initially, the image of the chickens is playful and goofy, but then they get overwhelming and scary.
by Jack Prelutsky
Last night I dreamed of chickens,
there were chickens everywhere,
they were standing on my stomach,
they were nesting in my hair,
they were pecking at my pillow,
they were hopping on my head,
they were ruffling up their feathers
as they raced about my bed.
They were on the chairs and tables,
they were on the chandeliers,
they were roosting in the corners,
they were clucking in my ears,
there were chickens, chickens, chickens
for as far as I could see...
when I woke today, I noticed
there were eggs on top of me.
2. This poem attracted me because of it playfulness. It's a happy poem, goofy, with interesting ideas. It begins frantic and startling with chickens and he doesn't know where they came from or why they were there. The chickens then seem to flood his mind, infecting his every thought until he's in a sea of poultry and he suddenly wakes up. The eggs that he finds question the reality of the chickens and suggest that the narrator might not be completely sane. Melding his dream world with his real world, the narrator's confusion and possible hallucinations illustrate a troubled man, lost in his obsessive delusions.
3. The title of this poem gives a preview of the main subject of the poem, dreaming of chickens. It also previews of the question of how much of the chickens is a dream, how much is reality, and how much is a hallucination.
4. One strategy the poet uses is to repeat "they were" at the beginning of almost every line. This speeds up the reading and makes the experience of the poem frantic. He also links some of his words using alliteration: "standing-stomach," "pecking-pillow," "hopping-head" It helps the lines to flow more smoothly and bouncy. He uses an ABCBDEFE rhyme pattern that also brings it together nicely. His list of "chickens, chickens, chickens" demonstrates the craziness that he's experiencing. The eggs at the end imply that more chickens will come, probably by the next night. This symbolizes that the narrator's insanity will never end, and the chickens will haunt him forever.
5. The tone begins happily and it's excitedly informative. Soon though, when the chickens keep coming, it becomes more a tone of panic. "Chickens" is a hard word with the plosive "ck" sound, as well as "clucking," and these words, when they're repeated more, cause an uneasy feeling. Initially, the image of the chickens is playful and goofy, but then they get overwhelming and scary.
Sunday, March 9, 2008
Fuzzy gray Koala sitting in a tree
Sitting so soft and happily
Eating all the yummy eucalyptus leaves
Just like a Koala ought to be.
"How many thumbs have you, Mr. K?"
"Two on each hand!" he replied my way.
"I can climb trees and I don't eat hay.
I would let you pet me but you'd have to pay."
I didn't have money so I turned to go
And he kept sitting like he was before,
munching all he wanted, leaves galore,
I left him in my truck with an engine's roar.
Sitting so soft and happily
Eating all the yummy eucalyptus leaves
Just like a Koala ought to be.
"How many thumbs have you, Mr. K?"
"Two on each hand!" he replied my way.
"I can climb trees and I don't eat hay.
I would let you pet me but you'd have to pay."
I didn't have money so I turned to go
And he kept sitting like he was before,
munching all he wanted, leaves galore,
I left him in my truck with an engine's roar.
Friday, March 7, 2008
Me as a Writer
I like to read all sorts of writing, but I don't do it often enough. Poems are fun, especially if I can relate an idea from it to my life, or if it makes me think deep. I also like poems that appreciate nature and beauty and happiness. Robert Frost is probably my favorite poet.
My favorite things to write are short stories. It's nice to sometimes just sit down and start writing and I like to not worry about metaphors and morals and just let the imagination crank out an entertaining story. I wrote one about a vampire that was published in last year's images. I'm pretty proud of that. I've also written some poetry (one of which is also in the book) about things like nature and outer space. Most of it I did last year. Hopefully I'll be writing some more pretty soon. I enjoyed writing the play, it'd be fun to do more of that.
I used to write a lot more than I do now, which is hardly at all.
One thing I like writing about is violence. It's a good way to get rid of aggression. It's like playing violent video games but you invent what happens. I haven't written much about it, though. Otherwise, I like writing about nature, and snow, and love and stuff.
My favorite things to write are short stories. It's nice to sometimes just sit down and start writing and I like to not worry about metaphors and morals and just let the imagination crank out an entertaining story. I wrote one about a vampire that was published in last year's images. I'm pretty proud of that. I've also written some poetry (one of which is also in the book) about things like nature and outer space. Most of it I did last year. Hopefully I'll be writing some more pretty soon. I enjoyed writing the play, it'd be fun to do more of that.
I used to write a lot more than I do now, which is hardly at all.
One thing I like writing about is violence. It's a good way to get rid of aggression. It's like playing violent video games but you invent what happens. I haven't written much about it, though. Otherwise, I like writing about nature, and snow, and love and stuff.
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