Look again at the poem First Frost. Write an essay analysing the poem in as much detail as possible.…
Sister Souljah’s style is like no other that I have read, her style is so real and honest. I can quickly understand about the novel (The coldest winter ever) I do not have to think twice about this novel like I do in the other novel that have different language from mine. As I read this book I feel like I am in the Winter’s world. Sister Souljah grew up in the underclass urban areas in New York and knows how Winter feels. I think Winter is actually a part or side of Sister Souljah. She tells the truth and nothing but the truth.…
I have been awake before dawn at 0645 am all thanks to the scream therapy in the shower, I am washed by the cool air, air which seems that no one is breathing yet. I know where I am suddenly, I am part of this quiet and beautiful town and I am happy. Suddenly, the pure melancholy, first blue of morning begins. The air where one can bathe in. the electric shriek of a train, heels on sidewalks. The first birds. I am part of this town now.…
A melody is heard, played upon a flute. It is small and fine, telling of grass and trees and the horizon. The curtain rises. Before us is the Salesman’s house. We are aware of towering, angular shapes behind it, surrounding it on all sides. Only the blue light of the sky falls upon the house and forestage; the surrounding area shows an angry glow of orange. As more light appears, we see a solid vault of apartment houses around the small, fragile-seeming home. An air of the dream clings to the place, a dream rising out of reality. The kitchen at center seems actual enough, for there is a kitchen table with three chairs, and a refrigerator. But no other fixtures are seen. At the back of the kitchen there is a draped entrance, which leads to the living room . . .…
You feel the cool air warm up around yourself. There is a pleasantness that can only be found in these warm winter days. Birds squawk overhead. In a pack they fly in v’s. You wanted to fly, but the dream fled after you jumped off the deck. Birds gain height, you gained a broken arm. The birds slow and descend onto the small patch of grass to your left. Wildlife is all around you, but the adults don’t seem to notice. Not far ahead, a squirrel shoves acorns into his mouth, climbing up a tree he deposits his cache into a hole. He runs down the tree to start the process again. Nature is a cycle, a loop that won’t…
Coleridge initiates with the phrase “The frost performs its secret ministry, unhelped by any wind” (line 1). The frost makes Coleridge realise how beautiful nature is and he speculates that the frost is a secret ministry, because it appears from nowhere in the night, sent by God to make human kind appreciate the beauty of nature. His inmates are sleeping and he is enjoying the peace and quiet with his son. The only subtle sound is a smouldering fire.…
He began his new life standing up, surrounded by cold darkness and stale, dusty air. Metal ground against metal; a lurching shudder shook the floor beneath him. He fell down at the sudden movement and shuffled backward on his hands and feet, drops of sweat beading on his forehead despite the cool air. His back struck a hard metal wall; he slid along it until he hit the corner of the room. Sinking to the floor, he pulled his legs up tight against his body, hoping his eyes would soon adjust to the darkness. With another jolt, the room jerked upward like an old lift in a mine shaft. Harsh sounds of chains and pulleys, like the workings of an ancient steel factory, echoed through the room, bouncing off the walls with a hollow, tinny whine. The lightless elevator swayed back and forth as it ascended, turning the boy’s stomach sour with nausea; a smell like burnt oil invaded his senses, making him feel worse. He wanted to cry, but no tears came; he could only sit there, alone, waiting. My name is Thomas, he thought. That … that was the only thing he could remember about his life. He didn’t understand how this could be possible. His mind functioned without flaw, trying to calculate his surroundings and predicament. Knowledge flooded his thoughts, facts and images, memories and details of the world and how it works. He pictured snow on trees, running down a leaf-strewn road, eating a hamburger, the moon casting a pale glow on a grassy meadow, swimming in a lake, a busy city square with hundreds of people bustling about their business.…
It’s waking up in the middle of the night from a dream. But not just any dream. The dream. The sky was the ground and the ground was…..and your best friend Kati was in it and she was climbing trees with your cousin. But they’ve never met. And the trees glowed in the dark. You’ve got to tell Kati. But it’s 3am now and you’ll remember in the morning. But now it’s 7am and you’re late for work. And what was that dream again…..you remember the feeling of it but you can’t catch it long enough to attach words to it.…
My purpose of this paper is to inform my audience of the theories behind dreams and where they come from. I will provide information on the different interpretations of common dreams, the history of dreams, and the basics of the sleeping cycle. My readers are my class peers as well as my instructor. I think that many people know the basics of how we sleep but I think that the general public remains oblivious as to why we dream what we dream, as well as where our dreams come from in our subconscious mind. The main percentage of the population continues through life without even giving their dreams a second thought, if their dreams mean anything, or if they serve a greater purpose in their lives and their subconscious thought process. I…
Since the beginning of time, the interpretation of dreams has been used as a means to provide guidance for future actions or as warnings. Some dreams are so bizarre that they have often been ascribed to the soul having an out of body experience (Tedlock, 1987). While dreams are often defined as successions of random visual images, these images are only a complement to the feeling of being absorbed into a fantasy world in which things happen, actions are carried out, people are present, and emotions are felt, a mimicry of the sensation of being awake in every way. While elaborate, mystery still surrounds the meaningfulness of dreams and how they relate to humanity in this universe.…
There’s an overwhelming sense of fear. It is as if there were eyes watching me. I begin to get out of the bed. I’m going to open the closet but I don’t want to. I know something bad is going to happen. But I open the door and there’s nothing, but it’s too dark to actually see anything. I lean further into the closet. It’s colder in the closet than in the room. I feel a hand pull my hand off the knob and drag me further in. I fall and I keep falling. I don’t stop falling till I wake up, and it gets colder as I fall. I feel my blood freeze in my veins. It's like the dream’s…
Nobody’s awake it’s so late outside. I hear nothin’ but the faint cooing of an owl perched on a nearby tree. I look around to see if there is anywhere that I can sleep so that I can’t be found easily. I start walking and find a small break in all of the crowded houses on a street.…
The job of the first person that wakes up is to open all windows and doors of the house. You can smell the cooking of eggs, and the making of Cuban coffee. Inside of my aunt’s house I smelled the breakfast she cooked, the flowers from her backyard, and the scent of soap from the bathroom. The hills surrounding the town reflected the rising sun’s light on the dewy grass. The sound of horses galloping enters the house as they pass by. Noises gradually increase throughout the day, but as the day dies out so does all the sounds. At night the town is quiet. The streetlights were dim, but the moon was as white as paper and the stars bright as diamonds. Families are in their homes, eating, talking, playing dominoes, or getting ready for bed. I enjoyed nighttime because my family always stayed up late to talk and laugh. Every night was the same routine. I ate, showered, and laughed until I was…
The kitchen was dark and quiet, the skies outside holding barely a hint of the light that would soon blossom into a riotous mix of colors. The only light in the house was my own, as I finished getting ready for the morning. I opened my door, and my morning routine began. First, wake up my mother and ensure she wouldn’t be falling back asleep after…
The loud clanking of the 5o’clock train woke the man from his short-lasting slumber. The man cursed under his breath as he stumbled out of bed and slipped his feet into a pair of fuzzy, grey socks.…