Perspectives

Life is wonderful, you say
It smiles to you
So many possibilities
so much you can do

To me life is hard
but that you don't know
I might tell you later
why my flowers won't grow

To Teachers and Students of the English Course 2008/2009

A year has passed
New ties are made
The familiar disappears
transforms into a shade

The people part
go different ways
But though you are gone
something stays

Memories
of another year
and of people I know
They will always be clear

You can't fly kites on rainy days

Back when Hally was a little boy, Sam had made him a kite. This memory is brought up occationally through-out the play “Master Harold”...and the boys.
Both Hally and Sam obviously had a good time making the kite and finally made it fly. It was a sunny day, a good day for flying a kite. In the middle section of the play Hally suggests that it’s time to build another kite, but Sam replies “No, you can’t fly kites on rainy days.”

It is in fact raining outside, but I wonder if Sam can sense and predict the hostility that is coming – If he really means that you have to get along and be friends to achieve goals together. That it is impossible to cooperate unless we respect each other.


In response to “Master Harold”...and the boys.

The photograph

A two-tone car, Chevrolet the brand
it's just been washed and waxed by hand
a typical car for this land

In the foreground a woman with a loose smile
She’s a mother, she’s got a little child
She’s holding her baby so tender and mild

A gold ring on her finger, she must be a wife
Her husband was taking the picture that night
but something seems not quite right

The woman is Vietnamese, her baby too
Their eyes are shaped the same, that’s true
except, the baby’s eyes are blue!


In response to "On the Other Side of the War: A Story"

Hello Paulus !

In response to "Zulu and the Zeide"


I send you a few words to express my gratitude toward you. I hope you can get Johannes to translate this letter for you. I just want to tell you what a marvellous job you did with my father. I'm aware that I didn't exactly behave very polite before you left, but the truth is that you woke me up. You made me reflect about the whole relationship to my father. I am, as I said very grateful, and want to doubble your savings amount I owe you. If you are interested I also would like to offer you another job at my house again.

Best regards from
Harry Grossman

To my mother

In response to My Heritage

You went away my dear.
I knew you would.
The words were unspoken,
allthough they should.


You gave me laughter,
my whole life through
"Time's too short" you said
for being blue.


I will go on down the road,
try to keep in mind,
your bright philosophy of joy
maybe I also find.


I sure will do my very best
to bring you out the smile
and put the less important matters
in the delete file.

Thanks!

Thank you all for the wonderful gift and good wishes! The party was an incredible surprise and will long be remembered. Thank you to the teachers' group for the delightfully amusing e-card too! I've enjoyed reading all your work, and I wish you all the best on your exams and in your future careers! It's been a pleasure having you as my students. Thank you for your participation and support. You've been a great class! I wish I could keep you for another year, but I'm sure you're glad to be done here! Phoebe

Pain

I once loved a woman
One time
She’s gone now
Once again I’m alone
Those eyes
I will never forget
Until I forget

In response to “A Painful Case”

Ubuntu

Dear Shylock.
I feel sorry for you now. It is not good for a person to be humiliated in the way you and your people have been treated through generations. I feel ashamed about Antonio's and the other Christians' behaviour towards you. You are right when you mention the slaves the Cristians have. Of course they should have given them their freedom back. Christians are not angels more than you are. But what good comes out of revenge? Revenge is a dangerous poison. Nelson Mandela and the black people in South Africa show us something important through their "Ubuntu" philosophy:"You can't exist as a human being in isolation. A person is a person through other persons. We think of ourselves far too frequently as just individuals, separated from one another, whereas we are connected and what we do affects the whole world. When we do well, it spreads out; it's for the whole humanity". If we all, both Jews, Christians and people from other religions, learn from the Zulu philosophy, I believe that the future would be brighter for the whole humanity.

Dear toilet

Dear toilet.

I've looked into you many times now,
but still nothing happens.
Every day I give you my everything,
but the mirror is still not accepting.
What more can I do?
How long do I have to continue?

Sinico's point of view

The pain
The rain
The loneliness
Did I fail to impress?

I can't bare it anymore
What happened?
How can he do that?
Please end this misery
The train is here

In response to "A painful Case"

Stars

One day, they met

the next she left

He waited

She came back 

They walked together

first in the light

then in the dark

She smiled

he laughed

They sang

He said:

Look at the stars

Then she left

They would always have the stars

In response to "Strange meeting"

Don't

Don't you think of growing up
because if you do you get older
and then you learn how to speak
and then you communicate
and then you meet someone
and then you fall in love
and then you marry
and then you have kids
and then they will follow you
and then you are old

Questions

Who is singing load and clear
and also with a touch of flair

When did quiet better sound
then vocals roaming free around

What am I supposed to do
if that sound comes not from you

Where will I be headed next
this best sound it has no text

Why will I be needing this
yes it's true life is a quiz

Endless Circle

A car
An accident
Doctor and injury

So far
So innocent
Never of cruelty

Things were changed
And rearranged

But time do heal
And life appeal

Pecola's poem

To see the world through blue eyes
must be happiness.
Everything would have that blue tint.
Bright.

Mine are brown,
and all I see
is tainted by that colour.
Dark.

If I had blue eyes
everything would be easy
and I would be happy.

Comment to The Bluest Eye by Toni Morrison

Dear Hema!

I have followed your story with great involvement. I think I've learned a lot about you by reading your story.
You have your parent's expectations hanging over you, but you desire to be an independent woman taking your own decisions. I can assure you. It's not easy for any person to start a life of their own. But of course, your background in a Bengali culture is very different from the common American way of living, and that presents you more challenges than other young people face. I was happy when I saw in the last story, that you met Kaushik again. I wished for you both that you could spend your life together. I can understand you keeping your promise to Navin, but I don't think I would have done the same. Now it's too late to regret. I hope for you that you will be pleased with your choice.

From an interested reader.
Posted by kari at 1:41 AM 0 comments
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Old Shakespeare

“All things that are,
are with more spirit
chased than enjoyed. “

This is what Old Shakespeare said.
hundreds of years ago.
Has anything changed?

More and more we want.
Wishing this
Wishing that
Seeking experiences
Working day and night
Getting exhausted
Filling the house
with more and more things
but when we have them
the problem is
A lot of black plastic bags
How to get rid of it all?

Is “Mule recycling plant” open ?

Dear Ruma
Dear Ruma !I hope you will find happiness with your husband and son in the new house you have moved to.Your father seems to be a good support for you. He is very clever with Akash. Maybe you should listen to your father who wants you to think of your own career. When the other baby is born, you could be at home for a while, and then start searching for a job as a lawyer. Then you will be more independant and satisfied. Anyway I wish you all the best, and maybe I'll come to visit you soon.Your dear friend Wenche

Special grandmothers
So, today we have discussed the short story; The grandmothers at school. I think we agreed it was an unpleasant story. How on earth is it possible to live a life like this, without the world around them knowing anything about what's going on in these two families. I felt uncomfortable reading about these relationships. The relationships these two women have to each others sons is just within limits of incest.

Strange Love

Look at him.
His name is A.
Fell in love with a girl.
What's her name?
Let's keep that at bay.
He never thought the day would come.
What happens now?

They looked at eachother.
And for a very long time.
Nothing was said.
Dead quiet.
This is strange.
What happens now?

In response to "Strange Meeting"

Cry

I have never felt like this before. The pain, the sorrowness, the blood, the death. Oh, how it hurts! My hands are sore, my back is aching. Everything are so heavy. I remember when I first came here. All the faces. All the scared faces. Now the faces are gone. Bang! I'm alone. The sun is shining.

In response to "How to Kill"

Who is blind?

What can I ruin?
Seems like it’s all I do
People are crashing around me
I don’t see death
I don’t see pain
I don’t see sorrow
I’m blind

In response to How to kill

Fisherman

I once was a boring man

Now I’m a fisherman

Why am I a fisherman?

Because I have nothing else to do?

Or because I love the sea?

No one knows

And I’d like to keep it that way

In response to The Old Man and the Sea

Cathedrals

Wherever I go on my travels- if there is a cathedral in the vicinity- I want to see it. I may admire the architecture and try to imagine the craftsmen building stone upon stone so many years ago. Most people were poor, but they managed to build grand cathedrals. In our time we complain about money and expense.

In Winchester Cathedral I visited the grave of Jane Austen. It was a simple stone slab on the floor. People could tread on it. Her relatives could not afford paying a few pounds extra for a grave closer to the altar. They had no idea that her books would still be popular almost 200 years after they were published! When central heating was installed in the 50´s, one of the pipes cut through a corner of Jane Austen´s grave. So she is nice and warm now, compared to what houses were like in her days.

So why this strange habit of visiting cathedrals? It is not only for the architecture, history or art. Maybe it is a necessary escape from our busy, high-tech, superficial, money-loving era in order to find tranquility and peace of mind.

My heritage

From my father I got my chubby cheeks and my sad- looking eyes.
He gave me my sense of humour and my loud, sometimes inappropriate laugh.
From my mother I got my blue eyes and my bad posture. She also gave me the ability to face life with a smile.
From them both I take with me wonderful childhood memories and the knowledge of how to be a good parent.

From my father's mother I got my morals however the best thing she gave me was a friend for life, and memories I still take with me years after her death.
From my mother's parents I got my love of nature and my love of travelling.
My older sister encouraged me to read and shared her love of literature with me.

Out of all of this: What am I most grateful for?
- That in spite of all these wonderful gifts given to me by the people I love the most, I still have that one little piece that is just ME.. ..

In response to "My Heritage"

Eveline´s Choice

I am so tired. I am sitting at the window at home, thinking. Soon I am going away. I am going to leave my home, and I shall marry Frank. He is kind, manly, open-hearted and he likes music. He calls me Poppens and he likes me. We are going by the night-boat to Liverpool. There we must wait for another ship for Buenos Ayres. Frank has a home there waiting for me, he says.

My father says never to trust a sailor. I have heard about another Dublin girl who went to Liverpool with her boyfriend. When he had got what he wanted from her, she was left to make a living on the streets. She can never return to Dublin.

My father has started threatening me. I must escape. Frank will save me. I have a right to happiness! But I have to leave the two children I promised mother that I would look after. What will happen to them?

The boat is massive, black. It is cold. I am feeling sick. I cannot breathe. I am choking! It feels like I am drowning! Please, God, give me a sign! Show me what to do! I cannot decide on my own! No! No! It is impossible!

Dreams

90 years

He had taken no risk

Lived on the safe side

Then one day he saw a man fulfilling his dreams

He took one breath

Closing his eyes in regret

"It's the life in your years that count, not the years in your life"

In response to "The old man and the sea"

Revenge

What does Shylock have left now? Nothing.
He has lost his money, his house, his respect and even his daughter.
All for the greed of money!

Or is it possible to understand his reaction?
He had been spat on, looked down upon and called awful things.
Walking out in daytime he had to wear a red hat so that everyone could see he was a Jew.
But they came to him when they needed money!

This time he should really get his revenge!

In response to The Merchant of Venice by William Shakespeare.

Eternity

He had it

Lost it

Finally realized:

You own only what you have lost.

In response to A Painful Case

My thoughts on racism

cRazy
dAngerous
Cruel
stupId
Scary
imMature

In response to Master Harold ... and the boys.

=)

He walked home alone. Just like every other day for the last thirty years. But a smile could not have been brighter than his, at this particular day. Finally, he felt like he was supposed to feel. Finally, he felt what he had wanted to feel like every day, his entire life, but never have managed to. Glad, meaningful and loved. And now it was here, all because of them.
A smile could not have been brighter than his could, at this particular day. And this, only because someone, they, had smiled at him.

Goalie

To suffer is not to suffer, as long as you gain something out of it. Getting hurt only hurts for a while. You can hate and you can love the exact same thing, as long as you love it more than you hate it. It is all meaningless, if you cannot see the meaning behind it all. When it hurts the most, and it doesn’t feel important – that’s when you look at the audience, your parents and your team mates. And that’s when you never will forget why you became a goalie in the first place.

Blind

He woke up because of the sun shining brightly in his eyes. He was lying in the sofa. The TV was still on. The whiskey bottle was empty. He knew that, someway or another, last night had changed him. If he liked the change or not, he couldn’t tell. He remembered mostly everything from the night before, all though some things were a bit blurry. He didn’t know if he wanted to laugh or cry on his behaviour from the day before. What had gotten into him?! Why had he said all those things, why had he thought those thoughts, and why had they done what they did?! All he knew was that, somehow, it had changed him. He looked at the table and saw the drawing they had made last night. He laughed, but at the same time shock his head. He was changed, all because of that man.

Red, white

The night was cold and dark, just like it had been for a long time now. Around her was only silence, only darkness, and she, standing in the middle of it all was wondering how long she had stood there. Her lips were red as blood, but her skin was white and pale as snow. Her blond, long curly hair was still there, but without the shine and the life, which it had used to show.
Had it always been this dark? Again, she could feel the tears rushing through; because she knew it had not.
She tried opening her eyes wider so she could look around. She might as well could have closed them, for what was there to see? Nothing was there anyway. She couldn’t feel. Couldn’t feel anything but silence. Silence, which lead to feel pain. It made her think about how long… How long had she stood there in the darkness?

Bitter sweet

Why I let them into me, I do understand.
I never was afraid to let them hold my hand.

They made me feel a happiness that I just had to show.
But what they really meant to me, they’ll never know

The Choice.

We chose him.
He will lead us well
we said.
He was charming
good looking.

She was disappointed with us
but said nothing.

We were like moths
drawn to his bright light
unable to see him
the way he really was.
The fire that would burn us.

Our whole civilisation brought to ruin.

Comment to The Reason for It by Doris Lessing.

My battle with The Old Man and the Sea.

It is time to start reading.
I do not know why I don't want to.
I start. The first page finished.
Put the book away.
Next day, new page.
Slow. Struggle on.
No, I think it is impossible.
Try reading in bed, but fall asleep.
How am I going to finish this book?
Hope for nice weather in May before the exam.
Everything is easier in the sun.

Comment to The Old Man and the Sea by Ernest Hemingway

Why?

There it was
The text that made me feel sick
Why did you do it?
Was it because of me?
Could I have done something different?

We had many good times
We talked a lot
But you were married
And we knew that
And I wanted everyone to know that I knew that

I pulled away
Got scared
I hope you are in a better place
I love you
in a way

Just another love poem

As I fall asleep at night I think of
the simple things that shapes our love
A touch
simple things that makes us remember
that we are not facing tough challenges alone
anymore
a look
I admire you
a smile, just a smile says more than The Three Famous Words
Even if you don't smile I can see it
in your eyes
things, just simple things.

In response to "Love poems session".

My Heritage

From my mother I've got my musical skills and the ability to remember important phone numbers. From my father I've got an interest for wildlife and nature and never to hunt and kill animals that is not going to end up on the table. From my grandfather I've learned that humour is a very important ability, that people who laugh are in generally having a good time. From my grandmother I've learned that family and friends are the most valuable thing in life. From my uncle I've got an interest for gambling and other risky buisnesses - but my aunt taught me never to bet more than I can afford to lose.

In response to Linda Hogans Heritage.

lonely vs alone

I had no friends, but did not feel alone..
I had no family, but was not depressed..
I had seen bad things, but was not discouraged..

They brought light into my life
They provided company
They made me feel needed

Now I am the one in need
They were taken away from me
and now I know what could have been

I had felt lonely, but not alone
I had been sad, but not depressed
I had been broken, but was not destroyed

Now I know. I have nothing

In response to "uncle Ernest"

Sisters

We were always together, you and I. We loved wearing the same clothes and having my mother braid our hair the same way,
We presented ourselves as sisters. Never understanding why people never seemed to believe this.. To us we looked the same..

Two girls, both 7 years old. Hair braided at the back. We wore the same purple jacket, the same pink backpacks. We rode the same bike. Holding hands as we walked into the schoolyard.
One white hand. And one Brown.

We understood that day.
Why I never got the quetion that you seemed to be answering that whole first day of school. The question you found so difficult to answer.
"So, where are you from?"
They weren't satisfied with your answer.. You were obviously not Norwegian...

In response to "On the other side of the war"

She deserves more

She deserves more than a bed in a dingy apartment...
She deserves her own room, painted pink and filled with toys..
She deserves more than a mediocre education...
She deserves the opportunity of going to college and university...
She deserves more than sitting around the apartment with me..
She deserves going to musicals and shows...

She deserves more than ending up like her mother...
She deserves the best
She deserves more than I can give her...
So I am letting her go...
A desicion I hope will fulfill her dreams...
But that I know will destroy mine..

In response to "Victoria and the Staveneys"

Falling Silent

She is standing in front of the window, half behind the curtain.
Glancing, without happiness or hope,
as she is expecting someone she knows never appears.

I thought the rural surroundings would do her well.
That the small signs of spring, which every year makes her so light-hearted, would bring her back.

- But every pleasant sound, every trembling anticipation; every memory of a flirtation, loving touch and sweetness, have fallen silent.

“Nala?”

She twitches, and turns reluctantly; her eyes without lustre.
“Yes?”

I crumble.
“No. It was nothing.”
I can hear an echo of my voice. I turn and leave the room ... alone.

Written in response to "Not at Home" by Robert Graves

Dear Hema,

My dearest Hema, how are you holding up?
I know of your relationship whit Kaushik, and I was very happy for you; you would be a favourite daughter-in-law.
It was a big tragic for all of us, and I must say, that loosing my son almost killed me. I got a hart-attac, but I'm better now. Luckily I have my wife and daughters, and they manage to bring some light into my life. but I regret my ignorance to Kaushik's life. After his mother died, we drifted apart, and we had enough with ourselves.That brings me to my reason for writing to you: how was his last days? Do you know, was he happy? I hope so, and I hope that you two had a great time together. If you could find time to write a letter to me and tell me, I would be very greatful.Anyway, I wish you all the best, Hema.
Love, dr Choudhuri.

In respons to "Going Ashore", by Lessing

Rumas father

I’m a bit worried about my daughter, Ruma. She is a well educated woman and used to work at a law firm. In New York she worked part-time at her law firm and I think that was a good solution. But after her mother died and they moved to Seattle she has just stayed at home with her son. I hope she will go back to work after this child is born, but she says she is not ready yet. It seems to me that she is going back to a more traditional way of life, - she at home with the children while her husband is at work. I think that is very old fashioned. Besides, I’m afraid she will be lonely. They have just moved to Seattle and her husband is away all the time.
I’m also afraid she will ask me to live with her. She thinks I’m lonely now after her mother died and the tradition of our Bengali culture is to take care of ones parents. But I’m not ready to move inn with her. I’m quite happy with my life, especially after I met Mrs. Bagchi. We have made plans for new travels and we enjoy each others company. But I can’t tell Ruma yet. She still misses her mother too much.
It is so many things we should have talked about, but it is so difficult. She was so close to her mother. They talked about everything. I’m a man of few words, but hopefully the garden I have made for her, and the time I have spent with her and Akash, makes her understand that I love them and care for them.
We’ll talk the next time I visit them, I think.

In response to "Unaccustomed Earth" by Jhumpa Lahiri

My weekend in Dorset

My first weekend at the countryside.
So this is what it is like, the life at the countryside! I was looking forward to spend this weekend with Mary and the Staveneys. Since I had never been in Dorset before, I didn’t exactly know what I expected from this place, but certainly not this. I cannot imagine why they consider being in that small house without any comfort as a recreation. I will definitely think of it as a horrible place. I didn’t like the small old-fashioned house, or the surroundings outside the house. And all the creepy insects and spiders which were everywhere, even in my bedroom! Everything turned out to be different from what I had thought of. My clothes were wrong, my shoes were wrong…….To say in a word: I didn’t fit in! Despite of this, it seemed that Mary perfectly fitted in.
In response to “Victoria and the Staveneys “by Doris Lessing.

The Insignificant Difference.

Two children are playing – they jump and they run.

They’re laughing out loud ‘cause the game is so fun.

But people look angrily at their game in the park,

‘cause one child is white while the other is dark.

 

The children are tired – they want to sit down.

One can take the bench, the other sits on the ground.

The reason for this is a sign saying no

to people with skin that is not white as snow.

 

Today they are friends despite the difference of their skin.

But one day might come when they see this as a sin.

I can only wish that they later will say:

“We are all equal.” It might happen one day…

 

In response to Master Harold … and the boys.

 

Dear Ma and Pa

Dear Ma and Pa.
Almost a year has gone since I left home in Thailand. I miss you. But I have a good life in Norway. My husband and his family are very kind to me. He works as a construction worker. Every Sunday evening he leaves home and travels to his working place far from here. Thursday evenings he comes home again. Then I make him hot soup, he loves that.
I work as a cleaner in the Primary school and I am taking a Norwegian course on Mondays and Wednesdays. I have got some friends.
Now we are planning to build a new house in a small place close to my husbands parents. It is so quiet here, not like the noisy town back home.
Best wishes
Jing

In response to "On the Other Side of the War: A story" by Elizabeth Gordon

Neel alone in the tub.

I love to take a bath! I was so pleased when my uncle, Rahul, carried me to the bathroom and started to fill hot water in the tub. He helped me to undress, and at last I was sitting in the tub with a plastic cup to play with.

Mummy and daddy went to the movies this afternoon, while my uncle from America is looking after me. Or is he? He played with me for a little while, but suddenly I think he got thirsty. I saw he drank something from a bottle. Then he disappeared!
I can't see him any longer. I tried crying, but that didn't help. He didn't turn up!
I'm freezing.The water has turned cold, and it isn't fun to sit in the tub anymore. I'm sleepy, and I want to go to bed.

Uncle Rahul!! Where are you? Please, come and help me! You promised my parents to look after me.
I don't like my babysitter anymore. Has he forgotten me, his little nephew?

In response to "Only Goodness" by Jhumpa Lahiri.

Image

A snowman
A snowangel

A snowwall
A snowball

We had it all

Nothing left
But memories

It is not the colour

We look a like
We talk a like
We walk a like

We are red
We are orange
We are yellow
We are green
We are blue
We are brown
We are black
We are white

But I am just like you

Alone

I'm standing here alone.
All the others in front of me.
I'm the last person.
If they other fail
I can't fail.
A lot of preasure.
Can I save us?
Am I able to save the team from humiliation
Or will we lose?
In the end, it is all up to me.

(in response to "Goalie")

Who?

I was born in this country
I grew up in this country
But do I belong in this country?

My parents were born somewhere else
They grew up somewhere else
Do they belong somewhere else?

They moved here years ago.
Had a hard time adapting this new society
Who are they? Who am I?

It is not easy
to find it self
Am I this or am I that
Not easy.

(In response to Unaccustomed Earth)

Love Cake

Receipe for Love Cake

1 Teaspoon of patience
2 Tablespoons of pampering
3 Cups of personality
4 Pounds of PASSION

Then mix to perfection

Be careful not to add any pessimism if you want your cake to taste good.

Flowers of the world

Together with flowers

Alone with flowers

Without flowers

ALONE

Hurt

It hurts
It burns
When will I learn
I would like to turn
But it's to hard

The Raven

It was Winter, and two girls were out playing in the snow. Suddenly they found a hurt raven bleeding in the snow. At first they both believed that the raven was dead, but when they came closer they could see that the raven was moving, so they picked him up, and took him home. There they gave him food and a little self-made bed to sleep in. The next day the raven was gone but in the little bed he had left a black feather to tell the girls that he was ok, and thank you.

My heritage

From my mother I got my brown eyes and my strength. From my father I got mye sense of direction and my ability to take care of others. From my brother and sister I learned that family is the greatest gift of all. From my niese I discovered how painful it is to miss someone and how amazing it is when you meet again. From my grandfather I got my "quick tounge" and sense of humor. From my grandmother I got my looks and a beatiful memory of a loving lady.

In respons to Linda Hogans Heritage

Loneliness

Loneliness

Loneliness is such a strong emotion, how do each of us deal with it on a daily basis, are some better equipped than others? In the end do we all succumb to its power?
Humans are a social animal and need togetherness, acceptance and human contact to survive. There are over ten billion people in the world and yet our closest and common friend is with loneliness.
There is the awareness of global warming that could destroy our planet, shouldn’t there be an awareness of global loneliness that could destroy the human spirit?
Loneliness is something we hide, we are embarrassed to admit that we are alone and feeling lonely. We are some how less of a person if we can’t cope with this emotion. We feel ashamed if we ask for someone’s company. People think of loneliness as a dirty word something we all know but never say. We can sit in a room with one hundred people and still feel alone.
Reaching out to other human beings has become so fearful in this day and age, we would rather just be alone than take the chance of being rejected. Fear of rejection, fear of inadequacy, fear of unacceptable behavior, fear of being misunderstood, fear of outdated attire, fear of the next door neighbor, fear of being raped, fear of being robbed, fear of the devil, fear of not being liked, fear of fear…….. Fear has become such a high priority that it blocks humans from other humans it creates loneliness.
There is a saying ”Fear is the mind killer” and it is so true.

By Susan Gail Barlien

I am planting Ruma a garden

I am planting Ruma a garden
delphiniums
myrtle
phlox
hostas
clematis
hydrangea
marigolds
impatiens
gladiola bulbs
I may have buried them in unfriendly soil
Will they be cared for?
Will they bloom?
Will they be overgrown with weeds?
Will they vanish, earth to earth?

Written in response to Unaccustomed Earth by Jhumpa Lahiri

Race discrimination.

In the beginning of the play we witnessed the friendship between the white teenager, Hally, and the black servant Sam.
We got to know how the young boy and the middle-aged servant had developed a strong and close friendship over the years.
This friendship was put to a test in the play. Hally was frustrated because of the demanding behaviour of his father.

He was in hospital, and when Hally discovered that his father would be sent home already the next day, he got angry, and he took all his anger and disappointment out on Sam, his good and helpful friend.

After having been friends, Hally chooses to be the master, and he forced Sam to call him "Master Harold". A situation developed that made Sam feel worthless. While working in The Tea Room, his coloured skin had never before been a disadvantage, but now Hally made him feel subservient.

He was humiliated in the worst way when "Master Harold" spat in his face.

I think the author managed to describe the quarrel between the men very well. We pity the kind and helpful Sam, but we also feel sorry for young Hally with his sudden change in behaviour.

In response to "Master Harold...and the boys" by Athol Fugard.

An H for human race.

Elizabeth was born in Saigon but grew up in Tennessee. She tells about several situations that occured when the family settled in America.

When Elizabeth started school, for instance, her mother had to fill out different forms. She managed most of them by herself, but there was one question she didn't know how to answer.
Elizabeth had a Vietnamese mother and an American father. What race would that be? American? Vietnamese? Asian?

The mother had to ask her husband what to write there. He was angry at first, but after a while he found the solution: "Write an H in the blank. For human race."

I think that was a clever answer! We're all equal, and we are equally worthy no matter who our parents are, where we're born or where we settle!

In response to "On The Other Side of the War: A Story" by E. Gordon.

Thoughts described with adjectives.

A man is sitting in a restaurant - lonely.
He's eating his meal alone - indifferent.
His memories from the war - troublesome.
His plans for the future - vague.

lonely - indifferent - troublesome - vague.

Two small girls are arriving - hungry.
Sitting at his table - curious.
He's giving them money - thankful.
At last he's got company - friendly.

hungry - curious - thankful - friendly.

Policemen are walking him out - frightened.
Asking him odd questions - ashamed.
Accusing him of abuse - angry.
Denying him seeing the girls - sorry

Frightened - ashamed - angry - sorry.

RUMOURS! INJUSTICE! What next?

In response to "Uncle Ernest" by Alan Sillitoe.

My heritage

From my grandfather I've got my respect for other people.From my sister I've got a mirrorFrom my mother I've got my ways of thinkingFrom my father I've got my looksFrom my children I've got my patienceLucky me...

30 years later.

- Do you remember the old, strange man we met in the pub when we were little? He gave us food and presents. I can't remember his name.. I wonder what happened to him?- Don't you remember? No you were so little at that time. He wasn't welcome in the pub anymore. I think the other customers thought he abused us. A shame, though, we could eat properly, and I remember all the gifts he gave us. We had a splendid time.- But what happened afterwards? We never saw him again, did we?- No, we didn't. I think I heard from the other customers later, that he was seen roaming the streets with a bottle in his hand, dirty and filthy. I don't think he ever spoke to a human beeing in his whole life. He was a nice man, it's a shame, really ... more tea?In response to uncle Ernest

dear Dad

Dearest dad.I just wanted to thank you for your visit last months. We had a great time, and Akash is asking for you every day, missing you. We all hope you will come visiting us again very soon.I must tell you that I found a postcard left behind to a mrs. Bagchi. I couldn't avoid reading it, and I must say it pleases me that you have got a good friend.At first, I must admit, it was difficult for me, regarding mum's memory. But now I know that what's important, is your happiness, because then I'm happy.I hope you bring here with you the next time you come to visit, we have plenty of space. And I need you round me, just like the beautfiul flowers in my, or shall I say, your garden.Hope to see you soon, dad.Love from Rama.In response to Unacustomed Earth

Anorexia

Her room is pure chaos, clothes and beauty magazines everywhere. She claims that she is ugly, fat, nobody likes her or understands her. Nothing you say reassures her. You ask her if she has eaten anything? Yes, she did before you came home from work. She is not hungry now. You open the fridge to see if any food has been taken. You search the dustbin to find remnants of her meal. You reveal nothing.

You recall a lovely little girl, clever, artistic, sensitive, timid. She loves pink clothes and Barbie dolls. You don´t know that the other children tease her and say she is fat. You remember at thirteen she gets thinner. You believe she is growing taller until you, after some months, realize she has stopped eating.

You see her putting on layers of clothes and withdrawing from her friends and her family. You watch her sitting passively in front of the television glaring at soap operas and films. On the table in front of her are empty coffee cups and a bag of sugar-free licorice gums.

While you are asleep at night she steals out for long runs, doing 200 sit-ups when she returns, oblivious to the fact that her frail body may break down from exhaustion. Once you catch her training in town, during the day. You take her home in your car, shocked, afraid, angry. She is indifferent. And you wonder where your daughter is, underneath Anorexia and all that comes with it.

You stop asking her whether she needs help. Because you know her answer. In the end you realize that she is in agony and you cannot live her life for her. You have to keep some distance to survive - and find help somewhere.

Make Her White And Good

Some children one day made a woman of snow.

She was supposed to be fair and white as a dove,

but the factory pipes that stood all around

gave a grey colour to the snow on the ground.

 

The children that made her thought it was sad

that their Duchess of snow looked all evil and bad.

Together they wished that the heaven would send

new snowflakes to make her shine white in the end.

 

In response to Snow Image / Snow Child / Snow Maiden.

Nicola

I know my mother is coming today. Judith told me. She and Don are going to pick her up at the airport. I also know she will be asking for me, immediately thinking of an accident or even worse, when I’m not there to meet her. But I’m so tired of all the questions and her worries about my life. I need some time to sort things out. I’m so confused at the moment. The Conservatory was not the right study for me. I realize that now. But my mother talked about it for months and so I let myself be persuaded. I know my mother just wants the best for me, but I’m not twelve years any more. I have to make my own decisions, even my own mistakes. I have decided to stay incommunicado for a while and I have asked Judith to inform my mother that I’m ok. That is all she needs to know at the moment. I hope she will understand and respect my choice.
I’ll be in touch again, sometime…..

In response to “ The Moons of Jupiter” by Alice Munro

Bad Communication.

I still remember the day you came to me…

You were the most beautiful baby I could see.

And suddenly you’ve grown to a little boy.

Alongside is your hockey stick, which is your favourite toy.

 

The years went by and you became a young man.

You are old enough to take your life in your own hand.

I know you’ll make me proud. About that I have no doubt.

But I didn’t see that growing up meant that you would shut me out.

 

Now I look at you and I cannot understand

how our communication got so out of hand.

I have so many thoughts I would want you to know,

but I’m too much of a coward. My self-esteem is too low.

 

My love for you is still so strong

so I cannot understand where everything went wrong.

Now I wait for the day when I will dare to say:

Whatever will happen – come what may – I will love you till my last living day.

 

In response to Goalie.

Roses and Blood

Red roses bloom in the park
But beware of they’re thorns cause it is dark…

If you prick your fingers
Blood will drop…

A black raven cries from a chimney top

(In response to “The Snow Child”)

Dear Mrs. Bagchi

You don't know me! But I dare to write to you.
I understand that you know my father? How do I know?
I sensed it the minute he arrived. Something undefined, something new.
He was changed! My father was changed!He seemed much happier now.
And I finally understood: It was not just with Akash that my father had fallen in love.
He has fallen in love with you, Mrs. Bagchi!
Does it make me happy, or does it make me sad?
I realized: I miss my mother, I miss her so much!It will take some time.
But still, I'm glad, I'm happy for my father!

So: We have the assurance to invite you to our sons birthday. Akash is three this autumn. We think that it is important that Akash grows up knowing his grandparents. I think there exists a special bond between my father and Akash!

My husband and I are looking forward to meet you! Pleace accept our invitation! I wish you every happiness.

With sincere regards from Ruma.

Only of goodness?

Giving him a bottle of bear,
only of goodness?
Giving him a packet of cigarettes,
only of goodness?
Excuse his behaviour,
only of goodness?
Endure his behaviour,
only of goodness?
Tidy his room,
only of goodness?
Let him stay out all night,
only of goodness?
Let hin sleep the whole day,
only of goodness?
Make him a lunch packet,
only of goodness?
Let him off school,
only of goodness?

No!!Doing that,
is malice!

Doing that,
is doing him a disservice!

He's a grown up now!
It's his life and his choice!

Let him off!

FROM UNCLE ERNEST'S DIARY.

I am so humiliated! They dragged me out of the cafe as if I were a criminal. What are they insinuating? Am I a kidnapper or a child molester?
When those men came up to me in the cafe, accusing me of having bad intentions, I just wanted to laugh. I had no words. They said they knew me, but they don't.
I'm a responsible man. I work and pay for myself. I may not be well dressed, but I'm not dishonest! I guess I just don't fit in and because of that I'm not accepted. They've put me in a pigeon hole.
The girls - I just liked their company and liked listening to them. We were friends. I saw their poverty and was grateful to be able to help them. I wanted to do a good thing. After all these years of loneliness I felt I had something to live for.
Now I'm back to my lonely life. My only hope of being able to talk to someone, is going into a pub and going getting drunk. I've always thought I didn't care what other people think of me. But I guess that's really impossible. I'm really disappointed. I've served my country - and this is the thanks I get?

PAULINE'S THOUGHTS.

Now there's just the two of us, since Cholly died and Sammy ran away. And this time I believe it's for good. How will I manage to take care of Pecola by myself? After all, I have my work. At her age I was a responsible young woman, in charge of the household and my two younger siblings.
I'm really worried about Pecola. She's changed. People are talking - I've heard them. They say she's gone mad and I'm willing to agree. She's constantly looking in the mirror, talking to herself. I try to get her attention but she avoids eye contact.
I'm not to blame. They have ruined her. She's made up stories, saying her father raped her. He sure was a drunk loser, but he would never do that. They've ruined her, by listening to her lie stories. I was so angry - I beat her almost to death. I just couldn't stop.
I used to love her so much - before she was born. When I first saw her, I was really disappointed; she was such an ugly little creature. I wonder if things could have been different if she hadn't been so ugly.
But what can you expect, growing up in this miserable home? I did what I could, working hard to provide food and whatever else the children needed. I can fully understand Sammy, running away from everything. We don't belong here, but now it's too late. We're trapped.

Neighbour gossiping.

Have you noticed that Mrs. Johnson next door seems to have changed lately? There's definitely something going on. Wicked tongues say she has a secret lover.
She's been seen with a much younger man from the soccer team. They were observed wandering on the beach. He was looking more than friendly interested and she was giggling like a school girl. Pathetic!
What about her family? She's got a husband and three small children. I talked to the poor lad the other day, but he appeared to be totally unknowing about his wife's adventure.
Hopefully she'll come to her senses, at least for the sake of the children.

DANCING LESSON

Wet and windy afternoon.
The waiter wears
a white coat.

Put my money in.
Get record ready.
Pillow practice with no partner.

Sam says:
Don't dance
straight and stiff - but with style!

Hold her tight
- arms around her.
Looks like romance.

Don't look down.
Trouble trying too hard.
Back straight! Body relaxed!

Hit her hard.
Look and learn.
Mustn't make mistakes.

Around all the time.
Make no mistakes!

What have I done?

The rain is pouring down
I’m wet and cold, my body is shivering.
Thoughts are rushing through my mind,
Heavy hart beats banging in my chest
like after a long exhausting run.
What have I done?

I settle myself on a bench
taking deep breaths, trying to calm down.
It is late!
The evening sky is getting darker above me.

Then words flush up
like gasoline on fire inside my mind:
“I’m not the one who is going to get hurt!”

My father will be proud.
I love my father!
Me, finally being a man!
I’ll tell him as I give him his brandy and comics.
Then what?

I know.
The door to the study will be closed.
Silence, while my father consumes brandy
along with the comics.
Then – nothing, or maybe
he will call for me.
Telling me he is proud of what I have done.
“The boys are boys remember.”
“They are less worthy than us,
less intelligent you know.”
“They need to know their place.”
“Haven’t I always told you?”
But still……

The rain is pouring down.
Here I am, sitting on the bench
“White people only”
My inner riot fills me with anger and sadness,
makes me unable to move.
Heavy rain falls down on me as the evening darkness thickens.
No kite can reach the sky.
All by myself,
I wonder, “Master Harold”
-are you the one to get hurt?

In response to “Master Harold”… and the boys by Athol Fugard

With My Lips Only

I know I'm dishonest
but I can't help it
I say to myself
It's with my lips only
It's not with my heart

To my husband I lie
for the children's sake
I say to myself
It's with my lips only
it's not with my heart

LKK
Inspired by Robert Graves' "With Her Lips Only"

Still in Love

Her house loomed
At the end of Berkshire lane.
No reply,
No movement.

I waited three long minutes.
"Her ladyship is
Not at home?"
"Her ladyship will
Be away some weeks."

The sun went in.
A bleak wind
Shook the blossom.

I felt her eyes
Boring my back.
Behind a curtain slit,
And still in love.

LKK
Inspired by Robert Graves' "Not at Home"

My Heritage

From my mother the red chair
which I sit in every night.
The patience and capability of structure,
I need in my job as a mom.
The colour of my hair,
the wrinkles around my eyes,
and the extra weight around my waist
I got from her.

From my father I got my length,
my green and brown eyes.
The joy of being around people,
and from that my social skills.
The love of nature,
my good spirit and desire
of going abroad
I got from him.

LKK
Inspired by Linda Hogan's "Heritage"

Cathedral

Make your home a Cathedral.
build it high and strong.
Fill it with people
from all over the world,-
laughter and happiness.

Stop them who wants to intrude
with a negative outlook on life
prejudce, suppression
or even hate.

Make the people inside blossom
with all their colours and shapes
smal, big
rich, poor
black, coloured, white
blind, seeing
.......................

Can you all see
how beautiful we are?


In response to "Cathedral" by Raymond Carver.

A trip to the mountain of Lyderhorn in Bergen

A sunny day in October, 4 degrees Celcius and a cold wind. We started the trip near the east foot of the mountain, at the citadel Laksevaag in Bergen, Norway. The wiew from the bottom started with dusted and bad architectured buildings. The first three hundred metres of the road was asphalted and wide. After that, the path was adventurous and nice. The path led in two different directions, one beside two little lakes and the other along the formation of the back of the mountain. The mountain has two tops, allthough the whole area is called Lyderhorn. On the first top you have the best wiew towards Askøy, Bergen centrum, Ulriken, Fløyen, Løvstakken etc. At the other top you have the best wiew towards Fjell and Øygaarden. The wiew this day showed us the power of nature, and the beautiful city of the seven mountains. We wanted to choose another path homeward, because one path led down on the other side of the mountain, down to the coast. Acting like mountaineers, we climbed down the rocky hillside. Coming home with smile on our faces, and inspirated to take the next top next Saturday.

My friends.

I have many types of friends.

Childhood friends.

School friends.

Folkhighschool friends.

But the best friends is the family I got during my years at Levanger.

Those are the real friends, those who mean the world to me. 

They are each spesial on their own way.

Thank you for taking care of me.

The Bristol Castle

On a ship without a name, captured in the dark unknown sea,
thousands of soldiers are ordered to be.
Along the railings, staring into the dark night,
brave men are waiting for command, ready to fight.

Clouds appear and the sea gets wild,
from the lowest depths you hear screams like a child.
They suffer from seasickness and ubearable smell,
the air is so thick you may compare it with hell.

Sailors have done this voyage before,
one time for adventures, but now they are at war.
The Cape of Good Hope is a dream in their mind,
I doubt they are able to fight for mankind.

Written in response to A Love Child by Doris Lessing

Dear Dad

Dear Dad

What else could I have done?
When I was a child, I wanted to have a father that cared for me an told me every day that he was proud of me.
When I was a teenager, I wanted to go out and spend time with my friends.
Instead, I had to stay at home, doing all the things you were supposed to do, as the father in the family.I paid your bills and I paid your taxes.
I worked hard the whole summer, so I could send you money for the journey home.
I defended you when people spoke ill about you.
What else could I have done? You`re my father!

Your son
Harry

In response to "The Zulu and the Zeide" by Dan Jacobson.

My child

Always busy. No time to play.
When you wanted to show me your paintings,
I told you: "Not now".
I went to school, I cleaned the car, I made dinner,
but you wanted me to read to you.
I said: "Not now, I`m too busy".
I went out running, I went to the cinema,
but you wanted me to play football with you.
I said:"Not now, maybe tomorrow".
Year flies, life`s too short, you grew up so fast.
No paintings, no books, no football.
If only I could go back again, and do
the things you wanted me to do.

In response to Unaccustomed Earth.

Dear James

Dear James!
Some time has passed since we saw each other, and I know I should have sent you a letter earlier. Believe me, I have written several letters, but I did not send any of them. It is very difficult to find the right words. I am afraid of hurting you, but I have decided to be honest to you. I will not have any further contact with you, so please don’t try to contact me again. I admit that the time we had together was something I consider as a “golden moment” in my life. And I am sure I always will remember you. In spite of this, I want to continue my life as it was before we met. I love my husband, and soon I will become a mother. I hope you will understand and respect my decision.
Best regards,
Daphne.

In response to A love child by Doris Lessing

"Norwegians are born with skis on"

“We will go skiing tomorrow,” I announce in a happy mood, “just the two of us.”
“No, we will not,” she responds in a clear refusing way.
“Oh, yes we are,” my voice a little less enthusiastic this time.
“Why? You can’t force me! I hate it, I’ve always hated skis!” her voice is in an angry shrill tone.
I know it’s meaningless to continue, to try to persuade her. I didn’t like skiing either, when I was at her age. But every Sunday, the whole winter through, my family went skiing. As the youngest, I was always at the very back on these Sundays.
As years passed, I learned to appreciate skiing, to get sweaty, sit by the fire, suck the sugar lump I’d dipped in dad’s coffee, surrounded by a landscape covered in white.
I want so badly to transfer this heritage to my daughter. But, no way, tomorrow’s skiing will be on my own - as usual.

Pauline's thoughts

I wish I didn't go to all those movies. What good did they do me, these nice looking women with blond hair and red lipstick circling round handsome men? Everything was a lie. Their love and passion were not meant for me. Now it makes me angry. Their white shining faces were smiling to me from everywhere on posters and magazines. If only I had my tooth, life would have turned out differently.
Who told me about ugliness?
I liked to watch Pecola when she was born, but no others at the hospital did. I thought she was ugly too. They say Pecola has gone mad. Am I to be blamed? I tried to leave Cholly once, and I regret I didn't. I have my housework and Pecola now. I hear the women gossiping, but they never come close. I pray to Jesus and he will judge.

Written in response to The Bluest Eye

Crash

two cars
heading towards
bang
thousand pieces
dead

(in response to "auto wreck")

My Heritage

From my father I got my interest of animals, and the nature.
He also taught me how to hunt.
From my mother I got my Independence.
She taught me how to manage on my own, and how important it is to be real.
My grandparents showed me all the good sides of life.
And from my sister and brother, I got two really good friends.
(In response to "My Heritage"

Forbidden feelings

The poison was in the wound
and the wound wouldn't heal
I held her in my arms every night
every day we spent together

The day God took her away
the summer ended for me
Love at 16 can be the biggest
most beautiful thing

But what I did not know
what I did not expect
that day
something froze in me

My years have gone by
I have kept it a secret
but still
I only feel love for those like her

The young skin
the long golden hair
the look in a pair of young eyes
If i just could hold her once again

Forbidden feelings
my body outgrows my mind
The poison is in the wound
and the wound will never heal...

In response to Uncle Ernest

Writing Prompts and Suggestions

Here are some creative writing suggestions connected to the works you have recently read (for those of you who are looking for things to write about):


"Uncle Ernest"
*Write the conversation the two girls have about Uncle Ernest when they are both in their forties.
*Write Uncle Ernest's thoughts/diary the day after he is led out of the cafe by the two policemen.
*Imagine a conversation between Alma and Uncle Ernest. He is now an old man, and she is pushing a baby carriage. They meet by chance.
*Imagine that you are Uncle Ernest. Defend yourself against the accusations you find yourself facing and fight for your rights.
*Imagine a conversation between the girls' mother and Uncle Ernest the day after he is turned out of the cafe. She discovers he's a distant relative of her dead husband, for example.
*Write the story of the girls' dead father and what he died of...or maybe they have just been told that he's dead.

The Bluest Eye

*Imagine that Pecola dies. Write an epitaph or a eulogy for Pecola.
*Write Pecola's mother's thoughts when she sees that her daughter has gone mad.
*Write about one of your dreams.
*Write Pecola's or Pauline's letter to an Agony Aunt column.
*Write a conversation that Poland, China and the Maginot Line have when they learn that Pecola has gone mad.

"Auto Wreck"

*Imagine being the only survivor of an auto wreck.
*Write about a plane crash instead of an auto wreck. What would have to be changed? What can be retained?
*Write a letter of condolence to the family of a friend who died in a crash.
*Write a short text arguing for the abolition of cars and planes.
*Write about other types of wrecks or crashes (emotional and personal) that can be equally devastating.

"Not at Home"
*Imagine that all you have is this title and that you have not read the poem. Write the story or a poem you might have expected to read given this title. People may be absent in different ways, emotionally or mentally "not at home."

"With Her Lips Only"

Write the poem as a story...who is the lover? What are the husband's thoughts? Does he suspect anything?

What other situation might there be where people say things "with their lips only". Write about such a situation.

"The Zulu and the Zeide"

*Write the conversation the Zulu and the Zeide might have had if they could speak the same language.

*Write the conversation Harry and the Zeide might have had if Harry were given one more chance to talk to his father.

*Write the conversation Harry and his wife might have had the night after the funeral.

I hope this can get you started and help you to think of other things you may wish to write about in response to these and the other texts you read this term.

Endurance

Tom Petty once sang "well, I won't back down, no I won't back down. You can stand me up at the gates of hell, but I won't back down". These lyrics came to my mind when I read The Old Man and The Sea. The endurance the old man shows, how he keeps on going. "Gonna stand my ground, won't be turned around. And I'll keep this world from dragging me down, gonna stand my ground. And I won't back down" His will, and need to make this final goal, as if he knows, and perhaps he does, that his life is coming to an end. His acceptance of the fact that catching the fish might have been the easy part, and that life isn't going to cut him any slack. Getting the fish home in one piece will be an impossible task, but he gives himself no choise. "Hey, baby. There aint no easy way out. Hey, I will stand my ground, and I won't back down" It would have been easier to just let it go. Nobody expected that he, after 84 days without any luck, would go out and catch anything. Still, he keeps on going. For what? Being remembered? One final accomplishment? Let's assume that these are the reasons. Why are these things so important to us? Have we lived a better life if "everyone" remembers us? Or is it more personal? So that on your final day you can look back and see that you actually made something of your life? "Well, I know whats right. I'v got just one life. In a world that keeps on pushing me around, but I'll stand my ground. And I won't back down." Santiago was a fisherman, happy with his life as such, but didn't give in until that last fish was caught. That last proof that he had lived his life right and to the fullest. I guess these are the goals that make people hang in there. The reasons for the endurance in all of us. Our reasons to keep on going. "Hey, baby. There aint no easy way out. Hey, I will stand my ground, and I won't back down. No I won't back down."


*Lyrics taken from the song "Won't back down" by Tom Petty from the album "Full Moon Fever" released in 1989.

In response to The Old Man and the Sea.

singing the blues

eye blue eye I the bluest eye seeing being seen
see ugliness see beauty see black see white
love me blue bluest eye I
see who see how see me sight insight
blue suffering blue cruelty blue blinding eye blue bluest eye I
blues singing the blues
edge the edge the edge of the edge of town edge
seeing being seen


Written in response to The Bluest Eye
Solveig

Cold

In response to Robert Graves' poems

It seemed to me we only met yesterday,
The dusk had settled and the twilight was dominating these huge skies.
I was eager to see you that day,
We already agreed that we would meet where the fallen oak tree lies.

The first stars made their appearance and somehow time grew late.
Gazing over the river, I saw the fishermen take their leave.
Malignant thoughts arose: "Maybe she has forgotten about the date..."
But I decided to trust what you told me on Christmas Eve.

You told me you would take me to a secret place,
A place filled with blossoms and which looked like a maze.
When you finally arrived with tears in your eyes,
I could already guess,
What meant the black dress,
Matching the slowly darkening skies.

She clutched her arms around me and started weeping,
Her father had passed away last evening...
We quietly sat down on the oak,
Staying silent until the owls awoke.

My lips suddenly broke the icy silence:
"Maybe it would be better if I take you back home..."
"Please... stay with me..."
A weak and frail voice said.
I gently kissed her forehead.

Still night surrounded us beneath the moon,
No sound. The shadows loomed.
We silently moved through this cold,
The earth beneath our feet,
Oddly felt like a creeping mold,
Is this the place where we used to meet?

Written by Benno aka Rahjas.

Yellow Chickens

Yellow chickens
Inside barn
Yellow chickens growing
Inside a farm
Yellow chickens
Chickens ontop of chickens
Growing into hens.

Joy

Walking around poor
Not by choice lonely he is
Cops took girls away.

Haiku(In response to "Uncle Ernest")

The Soldier

In response to "Uncle Ernest" by Alan Sillitoe

The Soldier

Everyday he would just sit there,
Empty void filling his eyes.
Broken and bound to his cold chair
He could not forget their cries.

Mines, bombs, fire and smoke
As far as the eye can see.
Nobody telling a joke
In the trenches of this bloody sea.

Yet now he is alone.
For everybody cares only for their own.
After the war, peace was brought
Or so everybody thought.

Everyday he would just sit there,
Left out of this joyful new life.
Broken and bound to his cold chair
He wondered if he was still alive.

Yet he knows but one thing,
He could not forget their cries.

Written by Ben Schreiner aka Rahjas.

In the Window

This sang is in response to "The Bluest Eyes" by Toni Morrison

The name of the sang is "In the Window"



How much is that nigger in the window
The one with the good strong back

How much is that nigger in the window

I do hope that nigger's for sale

I don't want a lazy or a weak one
I don't want one that's full of sass
I don't want one that ain't willin to work
I can't use em if he's not going to last

How much is that nigger in the window
The one with the good strong back
How much is the nigger in the window
I do hope that niggers for sale

I'll not pay more than he's worth
I'll give you a dollar and no more
Mister you got a bargain for sure
He'll be pickin cotton and tilling the earth

How much is that nigger in the window
The one with the good strong back
How much is the nigger in the window
I do hope that niggers for sale.



written by Susan Gail Barlien

Until the end of the world

All the weights that keep me down
Seem heavier then before
Fate hits me in the face
Though you feel nothing

Only time will heal you say
Your words not fair to me
But half of me is gone
My dearest treasure torn away

I`ll stick with you until the end of the world
I`ll cry out loud but you hear nothing
I`ll wait for you until the end of the world
My dearest treasure torn away.

Just Ernest

Wheels of years made uncle Ernest a ghost, without Identity card as he were not made of flesh and blood.

Nightmare hours from the war, shellshocks and a jolted brain, a nation hero, treated like a criminal by the authorities arrogant eyes.

Never mind who we are. We know all about you. We know who you are. Who do think you are?

Thanks to you from uncle Sam.

OJF

"Skipper'n"

You often see him when you enter the local grocery shop. Chatting with the employees, or searching the rubbish bin. Your arrival arrests his attention. His eyes meet yours, in a curious, a bit insistent, way. You say hallo, and he nods back with a small smile of recognition. If you stop, he will start to chat. That’s why you lower your glance, and hurry on into the shop.
They call him “Skipper’n” like in Popeye. He wears a cap, just like old sailors do. His chin is sharp, he has a large protrusion which gives his mouth a squeezed look.
In summer, if it’s hot, stripped to the waist, you see him in the village centre. Wearing too small shorts, white tennis socks, moccasins – and his cap. His skin is dry and wrinkled, old, much older than his small, curious eyes. You can smell his body’s odour at a radius of 3 meters.

On early summer mornings I can see him from my bedroom window, walking along E6, searching for bottles. That’s what “Skipper’n” always does, search for bottles he can collect the deposit for, in rubbish bins and in ditches. Weather or season doesn’t matter.
Why? I don’t know, I’ve never asked him. I avoid his chats, like most of us do. Why? I don’t know.
In respons to "Uncle Ernest"

Car Crash

Taking and breaking
lives
Causing and leaving
sorrow

Lucky?
then injured for eternal days
Most
have walked their final ways

If I knew
it was the last time I saw you
If I knew
I would never let go

So sudden
so little I could do
Forever in my heart
I will always miss you

Drive carefully
and beware
Those who are left behind
are those who wish you were here...

In response to Auto Wreck

How People Make Lies

How
pEople
mAke
Lies!

Holy
Earth
And
Life

Heart
Enough
mAkes
aLways

Hope
drEams
And
Love

HEAL Michael Jacson the world artist and pop STAR legend, creating beutiful lyrics, poetry and music, so wounded, destroyed and crucified.

OJF

Cathedral

Cathedral
When I had read the short story once, I felt relieved. The language was so easy, and the theme seemed so obvious and clear. Therefore I felt I was very well prepared for the class discussion the following day. I was right. I could easily follow the other students’ reflections
and thoughts about this short story. Actually, I was not so affected by this one.
But it was before we saw the film about the writer. I learned that he had a big problem with alcohol, and so had his father. When we saw the film scene from Christmas with the messy house, the wrecked Christmas three and the children who were going to watch a cartoon at TV, something happened to me. I realized that I have seen exactly the same scene before! It was many years ago. I had a very good friend who lived nearby my home. Her father was an alcoholic, and there were days which we were not allowed to come into their house.
I remember it was one cold and sunny Christmas day I decided to pick her up on my way to the skating rink. I would show her my brand new skates which I have got for Christmas.
I knocked at the door several times, but no one opened it. So I decided to walk inside. I couldn’t imagine that her father could be drunk when it was Christmas. But as I stepped through the door, I realized that I was wrong. Her father was drunk and angry, and her mother was crying. It was messy all over the house. But the main thing, the thing which never has got out of my mind, was the wrecked Christmas three which was lying on the floor. My friend and her brother tried to put it back. I don’t know if they recognized my absence.
I can’t remember what I did afterwards, whether I went to the skating rink or not. But I will remember the terrible scene on that Christmas day as long as I live.
(In response to Raymond Carver’s “Cathedral”)

The Transformation

From jealousy and

an insensitive personality.

Having no friends and

jumps to conclusions.

To a new understanding

of blind people

and acceptation.

That's really something!

(In response to Raymond Carver's Cathedral)

Cathedral

His so inseCure
While I’m sitting here Alone
I can see The look on his face
FrigHtening and frustrated

He blamEs me for everything
I Don’t know why
DRugs and alcohol
Might be the reAson

I think i wilL say good bye now..

(In response to Raymond Carver's "Cathedral")

Cathedral, the drinks and the dope

When I learned that the author Raymond Carver had problem with alcoholism, I reflected some more of the use of whiskey and smoking dope or cannabis in the story "Cathedral". The narrator drinks pretty much before he and the blind man, Robert starts to smoke some dope. So when he and the blind was able to comunicate closely with each other, he normally must have been pretty drunk? And when they were going to listen to a tape from the blind man he got drinks for it. The first drink was at the kitchen table when he should listen to his wife about the blind man. This was after she asked him if he was drunk. When the wife went to pick up the blind man he was having a drink watching the TV. When he had welcomed the blind he made three, big glasses of Scotch with a splash of water in each. When they have talked about the trip they had another drink. When they sat down for dinner, they had another drink. After dinner they had them two or three more drinks, and I guess that`s not that clear anylonger. Then before they starts to smoke dope there was a question for another drink which was brought along with the dope. There is also some referings to the drinks and empty glasses. So there is much about drinks and dope in a relativly short story which is mostly about a blind man and the meeting with him. I didn`t think much about this aspect of the story when I red it the first time. Here he meets a stranger, a good friend of his wife, he gets boozed and it`s made like it`s normal?

Losing spree

His eyes are sore
His hands are hurting
No air to breathe
No memories to think
The battle is lost

In response to Goalie

Lucky?

People feel sad for those without vision,
but I don't understand
why we pity them.
They do not have to see
the horrible things in this world;
war, diseases, blood and pain...
I see this every day,
and what can I do?
Sometimes I think
the blind are lucky..

In response to Raymond Carters "Cathedral"

Vision

His vision is perfectly fine
but still
he is blind.
He does not manage to see,
all the stuff that matter to me.
He shuts me out
he makes me sad,
I have really never felt this bad.
Someone gave me a good advice;
you should open your eyes!
I should leave,
I should go
but
I love him so!

In response to Raymond Carvers "Cathedral"

Spinning Feet

Spinning feet
In brain in head
of thoughts instead
his brain is talking
his feet are walking

He thinks of action
but misses traction
he can't be winning
his feet are spinning

Poem

Beautiful flowers
Romantic letters
Expensive resturants
True love
Big green parks
Pure Silence

Goalie by OJF

My first thoughts about "Goalie" was about dreams and the stars in our life, and the importans about them. "Goalie" is a good and very relevant title to the story. Is`s concrete about a young goalie in the teamsport icehockey, but as an goalie you stands alone in the team with a huge responsibility on your sholders. Sports can teach us a lot and give important experience in life. But it`s also about dreams, be able to achive goals and dreams. Dreams are important for kids so don`t take them away. And my belife, and it`s a belife which is getting stronger with more knowledge and experience, is that talents should be developed and taken care of. Do somebody have a talent it`s something they should do. In "Goalie" the father tries do do the right things for his son, but he is not sure if he is.

Grandfather

The old man sits in his chair whatching TV.
He coughs and his chest is hurting.
The feeling of not being able to breathe properly scares him.

The doorbell is ringing.
In comes a little girl, his grandchild,
smiling like she does every time she sees him.
They talk for a while, and he brings her a glass of milk and some bread,
before she rushes out to play.

He sees her through the window so alive and full of joy.
Tomorrow he will hear the sound of the doorbell again.
"I must remember to buy some more of her favourite meat and icecream," he says to himself.
As he sits down in front of the TV again he can feel the same pain and his face is sad.

In response of "The Moons of Jupiter".

A hymn to Life

Who am I?
Where is my place in this enormous universe?
Why do people suffer because of so many things in their lives, when they have a huge universe of beauty and wonders at their disposal?
When we think about the universe as a never-ending story and the whole history of mankind, then our lives will be over in a flash…
So how do we choose to live our lives?
How will we invest our energy, this brief time we are allowed to stay on this planet?
Take a moment and think about it…
Our life and our worries is just a tiny speck of dust on the surface of the earth…


So I will lift my head and enjoy life, because it is the greatest gift of all!
"Smile, and life will smile back at me"
"Think positive, because such thoughts are contagious"
"Reach out and give a helping hand to those who can't see through tearful eyes"
" I'm so grateful for the miracle of being a mom "

Yes, it's so good to be alive!

In response to "The Moons of Jupiter"

THE BLUR OF LIFE

What is a story? A lot of words in combination -
A history of one’s life, a story of somewhere, a story of relationships –

The dilemma of relations. Unity, belonging, closeness, values.
Social capital –
Interaction. Communication.
Distance.

Identity, identification. Memories, which sometimes are a kind of blur to me.
But in the end, it doesn’t really matter –


In response to “The Moons of Jupiter” by Solveig

Heroes

The old man is a hero. At first he struggles days and nights to kill the giant marlin after waiting a long time to get a fish. Then he has to fight against the sharks who want to eat the marlin. He is alone in the small boat with little food and eqipment. Still he keeps his head clear and do the right things.
After the pilot Chesley Sullenberger landed the aeroplane on the river between the skyscrapers of New York City, he got the price "Key to the city" and the mayor referred to Hemingway who says that a hero is a man who keeps his mind clear under pressure and do the right things.
They both are heroes.
In response to "The old man and the sea" by Ernest Hemingway.

After the war

I'm freezing cold and empty
oh, the days before you came
now my memories are all back again
I try to pass through the gate of sleep

the stars changing into darkness
the sleepless eyes
inside my head lives an old scene
I watch the storm go through my mind

today I offer all myself to this
I tried to make it go away
I've lost track of logial thinking
... I shoot myself
and my blood tells all

now it is the most devine
freed from my thoughts
my words are cold
my scars remind me
the past is real

I tried...

We Send No Other Message

We listen to old chants and learn our mother tongue
Our culture, our love, our respect for Mother Earth
The land of memories is gone but not forgotten
We will not feel the white man's shame
We are proud, we are strong, we will endure
We send no other message, now let us live in peace


This is in response to "Heritage" by Linda Hogan.
Susan

"Fatty"

I sat at the dinning room table waiting for my mother to return from the doctor's visit. She had a lump on the side of her cheek, it was more under her right cheek as my mother would have corrected me. Tomato tomato it's all the same. I was anxious to hear what the doctor's diagnosis was when she arrived. She came into the dinning room with a scowl on her face, "Well it's cancer are you happy?" Typical mother never knew what to say in times like this. Of course it wasn't my fault she had cancer she smoked one to two packs of cigarettes a day. None the less it was my fault and she had her illogical reasons as to why. All through my school yers she had her nasty comments, "You'll never finish school, you'll end being a dish washer." Her snide remarks are what made me leave home at the age of eighteen. As soon as I finished High School I moved away, got a good job and a nice apartment. It was the wrong job for me, it didn't pay good enough and the apartment was on the wrong side of town, there wasn't much validation or commendation from her. The older I got the easier it was to ignore her rude remarks, I'd come to the conclussion that it was just her way of showing she cared and wanting the best for me.

My mother went into the hospital to have her tumor removed. When she came out of surgery and had recovered enough to talk she immediately started dealing out all of her possesions as if she would be dying in the next few days. The house, the car, the furniture, beds, she had everything earmarked for each of her four daughters. She even had small nicknacks that were to go to grand kids and other relatives. She gave me the pleasure of giving me her ten pound fat cat named "Fatty". Thanks mom. She said I moved around too much and this way, by giving me the cat, I would have to find a good man not one of my bar romances and settle down in one place. Every man was bar trash to her, the only place to meet a good man was in church, funny we weren't religious and didn't attend any church. Well she did used to send us four sisters, heathens she called us, to bible school every Sunday. If that counts as going to church. The bible school lasted only a short while, the pastor required that the parents attend the sermon while the children were attending bible school and that was the end of that. No church was going to tell my mother what to do.
My mother did die. The cancer spread rapidly and attacked her main veins leading to her brain. Typical mother she told the doctor "don't save me". The walls of the veins were eaten up by the cancer and they collapsed and then exploded. She actually bled to death.

Fatty became known as Skinny due to his change in diet. I'm sure he wasn't happy about having to eat cat food, but I wasn't going to feed him expensive cans of tuna or raw chicken breast. My mother used to lovingly chop up small bits of the raw chicken so he could easily eat them and warm up the tuna because her Fatty didn't like cold food.
Maybe, just maybe I should have been her cat.

This story is in response to Alice Munro's "The Moon's of Jupiter".

Susan

How to Live

On a little blue ball there is a woman
longing, waiting restlessly
feeling unsatisfaction
She wants to live life perfectly

So tired of all the stress
But there are certain expectations
Aims that she has to reach for
If not, there'll be no celebrations

And the children that she has got
Oh, how she loves them all
They deserve all the best there is
but the presents are always too small

The woman struggles day by day
waiting, longing, wondering
how to live this life
How can she improve to become
a succesful mother and wife?

The children miss their mother's presence
they're not as happy as they seem
But wanting perfection that noone knows of
the woman is lost in her dream

In response to Keith Douglas' poem "How to Kill".

How to Live

Months of darkness

then came light

Screaming, loving, living

I called, You answered: I am love

I went in light to places of darkness

Time went, and time came

Living, loving, screaming

Darkness

Earth to earth

Then light

Proving: Love and faith, above all

In Response to: How to Kill

Sorrow

The war took my child from me

It took him like the wind catches a leaf

Like it was the most natural thing in the world

The war took my child from me

With sorrow I sit

watching his photo

My beautiful son was taken from me

His eyes, his nose, his hair

The war took my child from me

In response to Keith Douglas' How to kill.

ghost soldier

as seconds go by
I'm turning into a man
the ball I was so familiar with
fitting just right in a boy's hand
has now turned into a grenade

I see the dead man
right before me
breathing, still
now
turning cold, fading
red around the hole in his chest
hate in my heart, revenge in my mind

easy
another ghost
who am I
frail
this skin is dry and pale
I mock at my lousy God
a shadow is a man
when death approaches..

In response to "How to Kill" by Keith Douglas

Why do we live?

Some say life is great,
they can not have had any struggles.
Some say life is easy,
we can't see the world through the same eyes.

Some think life is a game,
if that's true I'm losing.
Joy and happiness are hidden in the shadow of wars and diseases.
Why do we all hold on to life when it all comes down to death?

In response to Keith Douglas "How to Kill"

KILLING...

You can kill a man with one shot.
But strong is the one that shoots not.
Because he can see
that all – you and me –
together can manage a lot .

Killing can all do without!
It just causes fear, tears and doubt.
I have lost some faith
with humans at late
‘cause of wars that the news tells about.

In response to “How to Kill” – Keith Douglas

Next year's sport

Next year's sport
This year I didn't have time
This year I didn't have money
This year the dogs were too old and too young
This year

Next year I will have more time
Next year I will have money
Next year I will have better dogs

Dogmushing - Next year's sport

In response to Goalie

Goalie

In response to Rudy Thaubergers "Goalie"

We went to practice
We used to have fun
It was all about playing
We didn’t care
As long as we had fun

Time has changed
The fun is over
You cared too much
They said you had the courage
And you agreed

Today it’s more critical
It’s all about blood and fear
I can see the fear in your eyes
The fun is over
I wish we could start over

We used to have fun…

Vulnerable

In response to Rudy Thauberger's "Goalie".

To see him succeed
A warm, secure feeling
To see happiness in that face
What more could life bring?

To see his heart bleed
when he's been exposed to unfairness
A feeling og anger, despair and fear
which makes you realize
With this kind of love
comes a lot of pain

Responding to the poem Heritage

From my mother, I got brown eyes and dark hair,
like a lot of people from Western Norway.
Also the importance of the family supporting each other.

From my father, I got the pleasure of making things myself.
When he was young he sewed a tent, and he was the one who
mended zips and buttons.
He travelled all over Norway, and he visited most countries around
the Mediterranian. - I travelled around the world.
He also taught me about the stars and planets. - When nights grow
dark in the autumn I greet them like old friends. When I see Sirius
I know he is with me.

My grandmothers were wonderful persons in every aspect.
Grandfathers were more distant, like old men were in those days.
But I am a teacher, like one of them.