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.

Saint Francis of Assisi in His Tomb

Author's Note: This is my response to how this art piece inspired me. When Saint Francis of Assisi is looking down at the skull, questioning himself and his life, many things went through my mind while looking at it. The thought of death and how we humans can’t escape the notion of it can be intimidating.

.

.

.
Death-
The concept in which we cannot escape.
Hidden throughout all of our lives,
The unknown becoming eminent.
Peering at you, knowing your fate.
The innocence oblivious to it,
They all think not of what could become.
The opposing situation with the experienced ones,
All quite assured of their future step;
One much larger than ever before taken.
The grip of the hand;
Pulling each person one by one;
Death looking to keep you eternally.

.

.
Mortality-
The known which all choose not to accept;
Escapism not possible,
All are trapped inside the brutal notion.
The life that once was;
Followed by the death that must come.
Humanity becoming a major controversialist;
Debating between life and death.
Pros and cons presented for each;
Death’s cons outweighing the pros.
The question floating among each man’s mind,
“Is there really a superior of the two?”

The Wide and Endless Field

Author's Note: This is a poem I created that originated from one of my stream of consciousness journal entries. I personally liked it, and decided to make a poem out of it. It has a kind of romantic feel to it, and has some repetition incorporated in it.



Frolicking freely through the endless field-
Thinking of nothing other than I see.
Bushy tassels peering out the grass-
In the wide and endless field.

Butterflies flying before my eyes;
Blue, orange, pink, and green.
Looking left, looking right-
In the wide and endless field.

Trees of every kind, size, color, shape-
Shedding great autumn colored leaves.
Nothing passing without my knowledge-
In the wide and endless field.

Golden caterpillars finding homes-
Admiring every creature's feature.
Small destined ants creating hills-
In the wide and endless field.

Stopping once to think some more-
About how this nature could be created.
Knowing that beauty describes no more-
In the wide and endless field.

A Tragedy On The Site

Author's Note: Well, in a recent car ride I was in I saw a bunch of construction workers on a building, and realized the dangers of it. So I wrote a tragedy about an incident that could happen.

.............................................................I

It was a late Friday night, around eleven-thirty. The fog was thick enough to cut with a sharp knife, and the thundering rain was pouring down heavily. However, this drew no effect to Thadeus Walters, a former U.S. Marine and current construction worker. He was ordered by Tim Sanner, the architect of the building they were constructing, to deliver fifteen two-by-fours to the site. Of course, Mr. Sanner gave no care in the world as to what time it was, for he once had the entire crew stay at the site to finish the shingles until two o'clock in the morning.


By the time Thadeus was finished with his chore, he decided not to go home. Instead, he decided that he would stay the night inside the half-built building.

Why drive thirty-five miles to sleep in my own bed for less than five hours, then drive another thirty-five miles back to the site that I am in right now, when I could just fall asleep right here until Sanner wakes me up?

Thadeus didn't put much thought into this, because there wasn't a lot of thought to be put into this situation. Staying here over the night was clearly the answer without any doubt. He now had to get as much sleep as he could, so that he wouldn't be partially asleep on the job. That was the one thing that Sanner especially didn't tolerate during any time on the job. This even goes when it's at midnight. It seems to be as if Tim did nothing else in his life except architecture and bossing people around.

Falling asleep became a harder concept as the night went on. Floors creaking like a madman scraping a chalkboard. Boards swaying in the glowing moonlight. Everything in the vicinity of the construction site either moved or made some awkward noise. However, nothing could possibly distract Thadeus from his sleep if he didn't want to be fired tomorrow.

At last, Thadeus Walters finally fell asleep in the rickety building of the site. However, when he woke up, it wasn't because Sanner had splashed him with water, or kicked him in the gut. Right above the third beam shaft, an over-sized crow had been waiting there, cawing its lungs out. With an effortless throw, Thadeus attempted to hit the frightful crow, but ended up in a tremendous failure.

"Get away you lousy buzzard! The last thing I need is for you to be harassing me around, and trying to get me fired! It's only four in the morning!" Thadeus cried at the top of his lungs.

The crow stooped down to the beam shaft on the second floor. At this point, people in their cars on the highway could hear Thadeus's yell at full volume. Again, the crow stooped lower, this time to the first shaft. Thadeus grew angrier as he could ever be. People in the neighboring apartments began opening their windows to attempt to shut him up, but the groaning and yelling continued. But out of nowhere appeared a hand on Thadeus's shoulder, of course forcing him to jump.

"Thadeus!" Sanner yelled at the top of his lungs.

"Um...uh... hey Mr. Sanner! I was just... scaring the bird away from destroying the site."

"Yeah, and you destroyed the neighbors within a mile around us. Do you have anything to say? And by the way, what are you doing here three hours early? Is something wrong?"

After Thadeus finished his story about last night, Mr. Sanner figured that since Thadeus was so early, he'd put him to work to get ahead on the days. Thadeus already knew that this day was going to drain all of his energy out. But what could he do about it? Nothing except work harder, hoping that Mr. Sanner would notice his devotion to work, leading to days off of work.

....................................................II

After three weeks, the building actually started to look sturdy enough to hold its own weight. That Thursday, Thadeus had some feeling in him that it was time to take the two cranes away from holding the building up. Because of this, he told Sanner that the tower would be okay to stand on its own. At first, Sanner just stared at Thadeus as if there was a dead rat on his face. After Thadeus consulted with him and told him the benefits and reasons to do this action, Sanner gave in. It may not have been because he agreed with Thadeus, but because he thought Thadeus would be too hard to argue with about the concept.

After the cranes had left, more of the crew started to ask Thadeus many questions about construction work, starting from "Which has a better grip, a Phillips or a flat-head?" to things like "How would you overlap a two-by-four-by-30 foot rod with a three-by-three-by-35 foot rod at a right angle?" Thadeus eventually became the construction guru on the entire work site, and he was mighty fine with that.

Life on the construction site started to be something that Thadeus looked forward to every morning. In fact, he loved his work so much that he started arriving at work a whole hour early, if not before then. He even received a raise the previous week, and he was definitely deserving of one. Everything was great, until the day it was time to fill in the concrete. Of course, Thadeus was pretty sure that he was aware of everything that was going on at the site, and he became the new decision maker. Mr. Sanner wasn't too thrilled that Thadeus had partially taken over, but he knew that Thadeus was making better decisions than he would've ever thought of doing. Therefore, he didn't mind too much about Thadeus's new position.

When Thadeus ended his phone call to MIXnFILL, the local cement company, he got everyone on the site ready for the cement truck to enter without any obstacles. Thadeus was always so organized and made sure that no one did anything on the site that could mess anyone else's work, or else they would face unknown consequences.

At last, the cement truck had arrived at the construction site, and everyone made a clear path for it. When the driver came, he got out of the truck to discuss with Thadeus where to pour the cement first. To everyone's surprise, Thadeus declared that it should be poured on the fourth floor first, to get it out of the way. Everyone just stared at each other, puzzled about the decision made. However, they realized that Mr. Walters was recently deciding on the greatest things for the building, so they approved of his decision.

By the time the slide that the cement pours through reached the fourth floor, two hours had passed. None of the workers really cared, as long as the building would hold up. Eventually, one of the workers yelled:

"Hey! Watch out! the corner beam isn't holding up! You need to evacuate the building immediately! Quick, get down!"

By this time, everyone on the site was running around like chickens with their heads cut off, and more people began to yell and help the people on the fourth floor. Unfortunately, almost everyone knew that it was going to be too late for them to escape, and now they needed to attempt to saves their own lives.

“Thadeus! Where are you! You need to get off the building immediately! Where are you!” At this point Tim was screaming at the top of his lungs, just as scared as anyone else.

As the clock ticked, the building started to stop tilting, remaining motionless at a twenty degree tilt. Nevertheless, the building obviously wouldn’t hold forever, so someone had to call nine-one-one. Fortunately for everyone within a mile of the construction site, visible of the incident that had occurred, an elderly man had already called the fire department roughly five minutes ago, watching everything from a neighboring twenty-story apartment complex. However, the man was fairly new to the area, and accidentally called the Riverside Fire department, a city thirty miles away from Fairview, the city in which the construction site was located. Because of this, rescue would not come until at least five more minutes.

At this point, everyone around the site knew that the building was not going to be able to be rebuilt, so they decided not to save the stability of the building. What they wanted to try to do was to have the building slowly tilt down until the people on top could jump the rest of the ten to fifteen feet. Right now, the lowest altitude that Thadeus and the other construction workers on the fourth floor could be at was about forty feet. This would mean that the building would have to be at a sixty degree tilt about until everyone on the fourth floor could safely leap off the building. Unfortunately, this is not physically possible for a building to tilt that much without falling down at a rapid velocity. For now, they were just hoping for a miracle.

Slowly, people started to inch towards the building, thinking that the building was permanently immobilized at its position. Then all of sudden, the two beams on the inside of the tilt snapped simultaneously, and the building went flying to the ground, crushing almost thirty people who were below it. At this point, no one was expecting anyone on the top of the building to survive either, so an estimated forty-five people had been killed within the blink of an eye. Everyone was silent. No one moved a bit. Each person just stood paralyzed, thinking about the horrible incident that had just occurred right before their eyes. If only Thadeus had never taken charge. Then maybe forty-five innocent human beings wouldn't have died on a normal work day. If only their family could've said goodbye. All the lost memories stolen forever. All because of Thadeus! Boy, did everyone who saw this incident either on the news or live, would want to give Thadeus everything that he deserves. All the fumes flaming in the lost ones' relatives' hearts, the desire to retaliate against Thadeus's power. But they couldn't. He was already dead. And that would be the end of it. Nothing was able for them to do, not even any last words. Danger, oh danger, is now the thought of construction.

A Day With Syme

Author's Note: This is a fictional narrative at the vantage point of Syme, a character in 1984. Syme is very strongwilled, therefore I felt I needed to express his point of view.


A Fiction story about 1984
by Matt Thurman

Ahh, at last, the final page for the Newspeak dictionary has been published! That old Smith has no idea of what he’s talking about. This is great, I mean plusgood. Big Brother can finally reign over the entire community now without any distractions! I swear, that Winston guy is going to disappear sometime soon, I hope. The Ministry Spies will take him far, far away from here. When London hears about his disappearance, all the other stragglers with no life will finally step up to the plate. Then, maybe life will be somewhat doubleplusgood.

“Hey, Syme, did ya hear that they got the dumb dictionary finished? It’s only gonna ruin London that much more. Life will be horrible!”

“You mean ungood! Don’t ever speak ungoodly about Big Brother’s decisions for the community! He will only make it better!” I was furious with him! Why must he always act so immaturely? I was right about him disappearing. It could even happen this week, possibly tonight. He can't even write a story about the government without saying a hundred things ungood about The Party or Big Brother.

It's fine that I am ripping on Winston in this manner, for it is Hate Week. Should it be Love Week or Kindness Week, I would actually be saying nice things about Winston. But it's really challenging to recite kind things about old Smith, for he lacks superior characteristics. However, it is Saturday, which means the end of the week. I'm a little sad. I enjoy Hate Week. It seems very queer, yet I enjoy hating others in the community. It becomes a great venting process.

"Do you ever feel as if Big Brother is completely taking over our lives?"

Did he really just ask that?

"I mean, he made a whole new language, and he watches us 24/7 on the telescreen, and everyone does the same group activities as everyone in the entire country of London! I can't believe it! He's taking over our lives! I don't know what I'm going to do, maybe just..."

"ENOUGH ALREADY! Do you realize how annoying you are when you talk in that manner? The new language does us much good. It cut the amount of words sixty percent of what the amount was in Oldspeak. The point is, Big Brother wants us all to have a better life in the vision that he sees it. Not how the community sees it."

"So it's a completely Communist region?! Is that what you are saying he's transforming our country into? Or should I say his country? I guess it isn't really our country as it is his, now."

"STOP WITH YOUR IGNORANCE RIGHT THIS MOMENT!" I couldn't believe how unhappy I was. I felt like turning him into The Party right then.

"You know what?"

He seemed to calm down a little.

"Maybe Big Brother is just brainwashing every single person! It might seem they are following Big Brother's footsteps, but do they really know what they're doing? Do they?"

I didn't answer.

"Do they?!"

"Yes, I believe they do." I was as calm as possible. I didn't want his outrage to grow, if it could. "Oh, sorry, I have to leave to go to a meeting with The Ministry representatives. Important meeting!" I didn't actually have one, but I figured that he was too mad too realize that there were no meetings on Saturday and Sunday. And it worked!

Anyways, I had the rest of the day to myself. I had no idea of what I was going to do. Therefore, I decided to take a long, peaceful nap, where no maniac exists to disturb me. I rested there for about an hour until I finally fell asleep completely. That was a picture of a perfect day.

A Day of Perfection

Author's Note: This is a romantic fiction story. Romance is something that everyone dreams of having a life full of, yet can't be accomplished. I am writing this for escapism to the reader.


I wake up, feeling my microfiber sheets, knowing that this will be the best day of my life! It was the first day of summer vacation, nine-thirty in the morning, and nothing planned on any calendar in the house. As I reached for the door to open my closet, my mother happily stepped into my room, holding a tray full of eggs sunny-side-up, crispy bacon, two slices of burnt toast, and a completely full glass of pulp-free orange juice. She called,

"Marcus! Your food is waiting on your desk. How was your sleep?"

"It was fine. I just want to get outside as soon as I can, so I can shoot some hoops on my new basketball hoop. Is that okay?"

"I don't care, you do whatever."

That was what I called a perfect morning. No list of twenty chores to do, no nagging about cleaning my room, and even not even a reminder to take a shower! How wonderful!

After breakfast was finished in a hurry, I ran outside to look at the new basket. You see, my dad just put in the base of the hoop on Thursday, then the professionals put the rest of it together yesterday night. It was now time to show off my new moves!

Wouldn't you know it, right as I was about to shoot my first shot, my dad pulled in the driveway with his newly washed Grand Prix, having the largest smile on his face. I probably figured that he had won the lottery or something, because he does buy a ticket every Saturday morning. Apparently he must have figured out the winner, and it had to have been him. So I had nothing to do except to ask him.

"Hey dad, what's the big smi..."

"There's no time for that! Guess what, guess what! I just won the South Carolina Lottery! Can you believe it!"

Actually, I could, because he was bound to win after four years of buying those cheap tickets. But I wanted to cheer him up a little, for it was the best day ever!

"No dad, I mean that's awesome! How much was it for? Huh??"

"Three smackaroos! That's right, three million dollars!"

"You better go tell mom! She probably already heard us screaming the news!"

"Okay, I will. How do you like your new hoop?"
"I haven't shot anything yet, but I am doing so right now. See you around."

"Alright, have fun."

Finally, it was time I could finally shoot some baskets. This was what I was looking forward to this whole week! Perfection had struck my day!

After about three hours of shooting hoops, I felt it was time to go inside to eat lunch. My mom said that she was going to have my dad grill some steak, my favorite meal ever. Besides salmon, nothing compares to my dad's grilled steak. With the steak usually comes fluffy mashed potatoes, crispy fresh green beans (if not asparagus), and a basket of warm doughy biscuits. A glass of milk is always present, too. I went and asked my dad if it was close to the time to prepare the meal, and he replied with an excited 'yes'. He was always happy to grill steak in the summer. That was one of the many things he was a master at.

Dinner was at last finished, so I then had the entire day to watch the NBA Finals, the Cleveland Cavaliers against the Los Angeles Lakers. Boy, did I ever want the Cavs to win. It was game five, and whoever won this game had a pretty good chance of taking bragging rights. Not many teams come back from a three-two disadvantage. Anyway, I got everything ready to watch the perfect game on my perfect day! Nothing could possibly ruin this day, for everything seemed so flawless.
Things were great at halftime, as the score became fifty-six to forty-three. I was getting pretty exhausted, and I had a great amount of faith in my team. So I decided I was going to sleep, regretfully ending my wonderful day. Every day always has an ending, and this one had finally occurred. As I slowly trudged my way to bed, I discovered all my clothes were clean, and waited on my bed to wear in the near future. I gently laid them on the floor accepting the fact that I'd have to put them away tomorrow. I didn't care, as long as I could just relax now. Everything was perfect, and nothing could stop this perfection any more. The day was over, tomorrow anxiously awaiting me. Oh, how marvelous summer is going to be!