Closure Piece

Author's Note:  This is my final writing piece for eight grade.  In it, I explain how I have advanced and improved with my writing and language art skills.  I also describe how it will eventually impact my future life with whatever I choose to do.  It's not the best writing piece I've ever done, but it's good enough.

Middle school is a juncture where students can prepare themselves for high school, which ultimately prepares us for college and careers ahead of us in the future. On a personal note, I know I have grown a lot in many ways, and not only in school-related ways. Many new things are introduced to students in middle school, and I definitely believe that this school year and last year were very successful years for me.

In this school year and the previous school year, I have learned many new things that I did not entirely expect to learn. Even in Language Arts class alone, I have learned many historical things about literature, poets, and even famous philosophers. I feel that I will go into high school very prepared for all of my classes, and that I will be able to use the information I have learned in middle school for high school and future years with whatever I choose to do with my life. My improvement as a writer will hopefully affect me with whatever career I choose, yet I know it will come in play in college at least.

There is no doubt in my mind that my writing today is much different than when I was in sixth grade. I have learned so much as a writer, and have improved in such a way that I even have clear thesis statements, if I even had one at all in sixth grade. In addition to thesis statements, my voice has tremendously changed. A big factor as to why my voice has changed so much is because I have become much smarter as a writer, which I understand is very generic. To break that statement down, I first of all have a lot larger repertoire with my vocabulary. Along with vocabulary I have been introduced to many semantic and syntactic devices, which I attempt to use in my writing pieces as often as I remember to. Even something as simple as being able to form a support group to advance my writing skills counts as a writing improvement to me. This year especially has let me know my own limits, and has helped me with my time management skills on completing tasks. I could go on and on with the components of writing that I have learned, but it would take a lot more time than I could possibly ever want to take to write in a paper. Going from smarter goals, to mixing text to real life information in essays, to understanding forms and elements of poetry; I have improved my writing skills more than I ever imagined I would.

My skills in writing have improved greatly, yet also the knowledge I have gained while being in Mr. Johnson’s classroom has been amazing to me. In seventh grade, I learned a lot about the Russian Revolution and different paradigms. In eighth grade, I learned about almost thirty different poets, Plato’s Allegory of the Cave, the development of English literature, and many other things taught through the form of a mini-lesson. Being in Mr. Johnson’s class for two years in a row has given me a lot of information that I will remember for several years and that I can use to continue with my education.

Coleridge Emulation

Authors Note: The first poem is an emulation of Samuel Taylor Coleridge's poem Kubla Khan. I endeavored to imitate his style of rhyming, and his syllabic structure in each line. I understand that each line doesn't match the amount of syllables in the corresponding lines of Kubla Khan, but each line in my poem has the same syllables that Kubla Khan did in his lines. In other words, if lines one and three in Kubla Khan both had ten syllables, then lines one and three in my poem might both have thirteen syllables. My poem is about an NBA topic, and I was thinking about it when I started writing so there it is.


LeBron James

In Ohio did LeBron James,

An abundance of flourished fan factions:

Championships, for which he aims

From long bus rides to grueling games

Watching all the fans' reactions.

So long a life of glory and fame

No thought of having to face such shame:

There were back to back record seasons,

The world shocked of what could be the end;

And what could be the start of an evil treason,

The Truth revealing to those who do not consent.

But wait! the superb power that sparked the city

Must not fall now by the selfishness of one man!

What cruel minds! All left with shame and endless pity

Long gone would these foes be from this striving committee

Away they would be into their new van!

Now with this rivalry, with tremendous uproar,

As if this would always be made to abhor,

A strong hatred suddenly was uprooted:

All now know of the action being disputed

New teams are formed at the blink of any eye,

Yet some teams do collapse while going awry:

And sorrow has flooded the hearts of many

Yet owners speak of their odds being plenty.

Some years to come with the powerful Heat

With trouble and success the team will proceed,

Then hoping to achieve their goal to succeed,

But suffered the nightmare of bad defeat:

And hoped they did to gain their glory

Would soon become a startling story!

The sound of the hard court vibrating

The home of many hard working players;

Where the workers cease not gyrating

Collecting money from their payers.

It was a miracle of rare surprise,

A full blast group of three none would advise!

The season turning with many twists

With losses next to many wins:

It was a towering man named Chris,

And by the rim he failed to miss,

With help of two seemingly twins.

The two stars of the newly formed team

Their chemistry and physicality,

Their minds preset to master their dream

That all would know their vitality

Together James and Wade would not fail,

But forget not! the group of three!

Alas they would be as harsh as a nail,

And all should yell, Prevail! Prevail!

Their rapid moves, each flattering male!

Make a bracket with them all would agree,

And pick your favorite to take the prize,

For all will fight and leave a surprise

The end shall come and all must wait and see.




Kubla Khan

In Xanadu did Kubla Khan

A stately pleasure-dome decree:

Where Alph, the sacred river, ran

Through caverns measureless to man

Down to a sunless sea.

So twice five miles of fertile ground

With walls and towers were girdled round:

And there were gardens bright with sinuous rills,

Where blossomed many an incense-bearing tree;

And here were forests ancient as the hills,

Enfolding sunny spots of greenery.

But oh! that deep romantic chasm which slanted

Down the green hill athwart a cedarn cover!

A savage place! as holy and enchanted

As e'er beneath a waning moon was haunted

By woman wailing for her demon-lover!

And from this chasm, with ceaseless turmoil seething,

As if this earth in fast thick pants were breathing,

A mighty fountain momently was forced:

Amid whose swift half-intermitted burst

Huge fragments vaulted like rebounding hail,

Or chaffy grain beneath the thresher's flail:

And 'mid these dancing rocks at once and ever

It flung up momently the sacred river.

Five miles meandering with a mazy motion

Through wood and dale the sacred river ran,

Then reached the caverns measureless to man,

And sank in tumult to a lifeless ocean:

And 'mid this tumult Kubla heard from far

Ancestral voices prophesying war!

The shadow of the dome of pleasure

Floated midway on the waves;

Where was heard the mingled measure

From the fountain and the caves.

It was a miracle of rare device,

A sunny pleasure-dome with caves of ice!

A damsel with a dulcimer

In a vision once I saw:

It was an Abyssinian maid,

And on her dulcimer she played,

Singing of Mount Abora.

Could I revive within me

Her symphony and song,

To such a deep delight 'twould win me

That with music loud and long

I would build that dome in air,

That sunny dome! those caves of ice!

And all who heard should see them there,

And all should cry, Beware! Beware!

His flashing eyes, his floating hair!

Weave a circle round him thrice,

And close your eyes with holy dread,

For he on honey-dew hath fed

And drunk the milk of Paradise.