<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5280210263026870461</id><updated>2011-07-30T17:04:40.156-07:00</updated><title type='text'>hopeful 'n unity</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://franchescalamarre.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5280210263026870461/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://franchescalamarre.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>fancydiva86</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10788037379363679809</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>10</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5280210263026870461.post-7784743397407910480</id><published>2009-06-03T18:29:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-03T18:37:16.763-07:00</updated><title type='text'>February evening in New York By Denise Levertov</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;The poem "February evening in New York By Denise Levertov is a unique poem. her expression on this poem seem very magical on how she winter in New York City. As I read each line s, she mention the winter light, streets and sky. she see people in their on little world floating like balloons. To her February is a magical time which she adduces.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5280210263026870461-7784743397407910480?l=franchescalamarre.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://franchescalamarre.blogspot.com/feeds/7784743397407910480/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://franchescalamarre.blogspot.com/2009/06/february-evening-in-new-york-by-denise.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5280210263026870461/posts/default/7784743397407910480'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5280210263026870461/posts/default/7784743397407910480'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://franchescalamarre.blogspot.com/2009/06/february-evening-in-new-york-by-denise.html' title='February evening in New York By Denise Levertov'/><author><name>fancydiva86</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10788037379363679809</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5280210263026870461.post-9199655319810393651</id><published>2009-06-03T18:28:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-03T18:28:55.633-07:00</updated><title type='text'>“America” by Allen Ginsberg</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);"&gt;“&lt;/span&gt;&lt;st1:country-region style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);"&gt;&lt;st1:place&gt;America&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:country-region&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);"&gt;” by Allen Ginsberg is how his life in &lt;/span&gt;&lt;st1:country-region style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);"&gt;&lt;st1:place&gt;America&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:country-region&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);"&gt; was. He express his feeling toward &lt;/span&gt;&lt;st1:country-region style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);"&gt;&lt;st1:place&gt;America&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:country-region&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);"&gt; in the poem has good scent of humor that supposes to be tragedy. Everything I read so far seem like if you don’t have or know the way to survive in &lt;/span&gt;&lt;st1:country-region style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);"&gt;&lt;st1:place&gt;America&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:country-region&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);"&gt;, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;st1:country-region style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);"&gt;&lt;st1:place&gt;America&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:country-region&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);"&gt; will crush you. For example, when he said…”&lt;/span&gt;&lt;st1:country-region style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);"&gt;&lt;st1:place&gt;America&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:country-region&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);"&gt; when will we end the human war... so fuck yourself with your atom bomb”. That statement alone tells you that Americans hates each other by race, ethic, and culture. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;st1:country-region style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);"&gt;&lt;st1:place&gt;America&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:country-region&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);"&gt; is a place of freedom of speech, right! So why do we still live in a world that has a lot of racism and hate. I understand why he telling &lt;/span&gt;&lt;st1:country-region style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);"&gt;&lt;st1:place&gt;Americas&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:country-region&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);"&gt; to go blow up themselves.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;em style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: normal;"&gt; . The poem is both serious and humorous because he tells you how &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;st1:country-region style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);"&gt;&lt;st1:place&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: normal;"&gt;America&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:country-region&gt;&lt;em style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: normal;"&gt; is seen and put at same time. We live in a world where people judge each other and don’t care anymore about what they do. He turned a poem with so many meaning on how he see &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;st1:country-region style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);"&gt;&lt;st1:place&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: normal;"&gt;America&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:country-region&gt;&lt;em style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: normal;"&gt; and make it to a voice of honesty and hated. The poem do assault are fellow American to the point why all these racial humor. In &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;st1:country-region style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);"&gt;&lt;st1:place&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: normal;"&gt;America&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:country-region&gt;&lt;em style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: normal;"&gt;, people seem to not care.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;i style=""&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5280210263026870461-9199655319810393651?l=franchescalamarre.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://franchescalamarre.blogspot.com/feeds/9199655319810393651/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://franchescalamarre.blogspot.com/2009/06/america-by-allen-ginsberg.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5280210263026870461/posts/default/9199655319810393651'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5280210263026870461/posts/default/9199655319810393651'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://franchescalamarre.blogspot.com/2009/06/america-by-allen-ginsberg.html' title='“America” by Allen Ginsberg'/><author><name>fancydiva86</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10788037379363679809</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5280210263026870461.post-3451020477617239958</id><published>2009-06-03T18:21:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-03T18:25:18.623-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Sex without Love” by Sharon Olds,</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; font-family: arial; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%; font-family: Calibri;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;  &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 200%; font-family: Arial; color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt;In the poem “&lt;u&gt;Sex without Love&lt;/u&gt;” by Sharon Olds, She describes Sex without love to be a desire of endless&lt;br /&gt;feeling. I Believe sex and love are two different categories with very mix emotions. She takes the art of&lt;br /&gt;sex and love and turns it into a poem with meaning. You could actually here her voice with angry in every&lt;br /&gt;line.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt; Reading this poem has mad me wonder do people envy sex more love now. I ask myself that all the time. But to we honestly have that kind of live in this world today. I wish there was that love because I will like to find the perfect men out to there to love me for whom I am. Sharon Olds mention a very powerful statement in this poem which I do adore because she has a point why people chose sex over love more.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5280210263026870461-3451020477617239958?l=franchescalamarre.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://franchescalamarre.blogspot.com/feeds/3451020477617239958/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://franchescalamarre.blogspot.com/2009/06/sex-without-love-by-sharon-olds.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5280210263026870461/posts/default/3451020477617239958'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5280210263026870461/posts/default/3451020477617239958'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://franchescalamarre.blogspot.com/2009/06/sex-without-love-by-sharon-olds.html' title='Sex without Love” by Sharon Olds,'/><author><name>fancydiva86</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10788037379363679809</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5280210263026870461.post-8226398939592434953</id><published>2009-05-19T15:17:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-26T11:03:23.278-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Barbie Doll by Marge Percy</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;b style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;u&gt;Barbie Doll&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);"&gt; by Marge Percy describes how women in today’s society try to live up to being the perfect woman, that i will never understand why a women will go though all the pain of beauty. People in this society want women to who looks great, cooks, cleans, and is subservient, Kind of like Barbie to Ken. Why would you want to live in a world with woman with Blond hair, small waist, big boobs…most women in society doesn’t live up to these standards—with the exception of Pamela Anderson or Beyounce knowlence. I believe a woman should look and feel great about them not what they see in a magazine or billboard. A woman should not kill themselves with trying to look thin and beautiful; God did put people on this earth to play with them by transforming to the unnatural. The title is perfect for the poem because it is about a woman’s quest to become perfect like a Barbie doll. Her quest kills her, but ultimately she gets her wish.  Society has a way of placing unrealistic expectations on women.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="color: rgb(255, 204, 204);" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5280210263026870461-8226398939592434953?l=franchescalamarre.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://franchescalamarre.blogspot.com/feeds/8226398939592434953/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://franchescalamarre.blogspot.com/2009/05/barbie-doll-by-marge-percy.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5280210263026870461/posts/default/8226398939592434953'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5280210263026870461/posts/default/8226398939592434953'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://franchescalamarre.blogspot.com/2009/05/barbie-doll-by-marge-percy.html' title='Barbie Doll by Marge Percy'/><author><name>fancydiva86</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10788037379363679809</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5280210263026870461.post-594792716894396668</id><published>2009-05-13T17:54:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-26T12:36:36.777-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Metaphors by Silvia Plath</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style=";font-family:georgia;font-size:12;"  &gt;The way she put the poem  seem to be a metaphor. It is broken into nine letters. There are nine lines, and ninesyllables in every line. Which there is nine months of pregnancy. Each line is a&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:georgia;font-size:12;"  &gt; metaphor that represents the different stages of pregnancy. Like when she said “I've eaten a bag of green apples, (8) /Boarded the train there's no getting off (9).” The apples symbolize another biblical allusion, not only are green apples more sour but they symbolize Eve bringing suffering upon women with birth. So this poem is basically talked about how she felt during her pregnancy. The poem talk about her pain and suffer of bring life into this world.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5280210263026870461-594792716894396668?l=franchescalamarre.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://franchescalamarre.blogspot.com/feeds/594792716894396668/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://franchescalamarre.blogspot.com/2009/05/metaphors-by-silvia-plath.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5280210263026870461/posts/default/594792716894396668'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5280210263026870461/posts/default/594792716894396668'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://franchescalamarre.blogspot.com/2009/05/metaphors-by-silvia-plath.html' title='Metaphors by Silvia Plath'/><author><name>fancydiva86</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10788037379363679809</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5280210263026870461.post-1670694505679036829</id><published>2009-05-11T11:30:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-26T13:24:19.024-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Negro Speaks of Rivers</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;Hughes saids "My soul has grown deep like the rivers." Because the soul is likea life force that the body have as a steam of energy.The person who recognizes that his soul has grown deep recognizes his own identity. In this poem the river symbolizes the link of mankind as the blood in the body is believed to be linked because we are all children of God, and thus we have the common ancestry originating with Adam and Eve, the symbolical first parents. He  linked with all humanity, all races, all creeds for all time through the depth of his own soul that we as children of God have been reborn in the blood of Christ which is the river.. This poem has a very strong message to me and the way he portray as a river. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5280210263026870461-1670694505679036829?l=franchescalamarre.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://franchescalamarre.blogspot.com/feeds/1670694505679036829/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://franchescalamarre.blogspot.com/2009/05/negro-speaks-of-rivers.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5280210263026870461/posts/default/1670694505679036829'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5280210263026870461/posts/default/1670694505679036829'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://franchescalamarre.blogspot.com/2009/05/negro-speaks-of-rivers.html' title='The Negro Speaks of Rivers'/><author><name>fancydiva86</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10788037379363679809</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5280210263026870461.post-810460501421252660</id><published>2009-05-06T18:17:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-26T13:23:08.869-07:00</updated><title type='text'>“After Apple-Picking</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style=";font-family:&amp;quot;;font-size:12;"  &gt;&lt;/span&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;u&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);"&gt;After Apple-Picking&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);"&gt;, by Robert Frost has many good symbols and allusions that describes the poem very clearly.  The apple mentioned in the poem could be connected to the forbidden fruit from the Garden of Eden. It is where life begin of everything earth and heaven, therefore repelling death. To understand the complete meaning of Frost’s poem aware you of being dead, and it must have once had life. Life and death are common themes in poetry, but this poem focuses on what is in between, life’s missed experiences and the regret that the speaker is left with. Frost takes this ordinary experience and turns it into contemplation on life. The first sign of any kind of tension is in the first six lines. The ladder, which points “toward heaven,” represents the speaker’s climb through life toward death and heaven and the barrel and apples left on the tree represent things he regrets what he didn't succeed in life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;span style=";font-family:&amp;quot;;font-size:12;"  &gt; &lt;!--[endif]--&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5280210263026870461-810460501421252660?l=franchescalamarre.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://franchescalamarre.blogspot.com/feeds/810460501421252660/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://franchescalamarre.blogspot.com/2009/05/after-apple-picking.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5280210263026870461/posts/default/810460501421252660'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5280210263026870461/posts/default/810460501421252660'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://franchescalamarre.blogspot.com/2009/05/after-apple-picking.html' title='“After Apple-Picking'/><author><name>fancydiva86</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10788037379363679809</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5280210263026870461.post-6898121229898772572</id><published>2009-04-22T13:02:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-22T13:04:17.656-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Facing It," by Yusef Komunyakaa</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; color: rgb(255, 255, 51);"&gt;Facing It," by Yusef Komunyakaa talks about a war which most, if not all Americans are familiar with the Vietnam War. This poem was very well written, and I respect all that was said in the context of the poem. "Facing It," discusses his visit to the Vietnam Memorial in &lt;st1:place&gt;&lt;st1:city&gt;Washington&lt;/st1:city&gt; &lt;st1:state&gt;D.C.&lt;/st1:state&gt;&lt;/st1:place&gt;, and his emotions that he experienced while he was at the memorial. I can not imagine what the feelings would be like to see one of my friend's name etched in this wall of a fallen solider. "Facing It." Komunyakaa really shows me that he is emotional about the monument by his visions that he sees when he is at the wall. "My black face fades / hiding inside the black granite" (1-2). Here I believe he is realizing he could have been one of the solider in etched in this wall. I feel as if he may be remembering a point in time in &lt;st1:country-region&gt;&lt;st1:place&gt;Vietnam&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:country-region&gt; that he was involved in an incident that should have cost him his life. To him, he believe it should been him but he survive. His fading face makes me think that he realizes that there were no separate races in Vietnam War.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; color: rgb(255, 255, 51);"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt; &lt;/span&gt;Also the part that said “I said I wouldn't, dammit: no tears" (3-4). It probably was hard to thousands of fallen Americans has lost their life fight this war he witness with his own eyes. I like this part of the poem when he said "I'm stone, I'm flesh" (5). He describes the stone on the wall to part of his blood. Basely he is referring them to be his brother. Yusef says that he the stone. I believe he is saying he has died in the war too. Maybe he did not die physically, but he lost a part of himself over there when he lost his brother and the image of that make him difficult to recover.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; color: rgb(255, 255, 51);"&gt;The part that made wonders was when I read the last three lines. "In the black mirror a woman's trying to erase names: No, she's brushing a boy's hair." (28-31) a woman is looking at the wall, brushing a boy's hair, when I feel that Yusef realizes that he is still in the wall. He is a part of the memorial now. He is part of the many names that are written on the wall. This poem has many different points a view that make part of the poem. I believe this is the strongest poem I read that actually makes you feel the character in the poem. &lt;span style=""&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5280210263026870461-6898121229898772572?l=franchescalamarre.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://franchescalamarre.blogspot.com/feeds/6898121229898772572/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://franchescalamarre.blogspot.com/2009/04/facing-it-by-yusef-komunyakaa.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5280210263026870461/posts/default/6898121229898772572'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5280210263026870461/posts/default/6898121229898772572'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://franchescalamarre.blogspot.com/2009/04/facing-it-by-yusef-komunyakaa.html' title='Facing It,&quot; by Yusef Komunyakaa'/><author><name>fancydiva86</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10788037379363679809</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5280210263026870461.post-2414466556532154290</id><published>2009-03-18T18:31:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-18T18:40:26.096-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Red Wheel barrow"</title><content type='html'>&lt;p style="color: rgb(51, 255, 255);" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 255, 255);"&gt;A poem with the least amount of words can define many meaning to the story. Williams express his feeling in the red wheelbarrow in many ways you can image. Depend upon a simple object as a wheelbarrow can be something people in a farm can use for every day use. When he mention the rain glazing. It seem like he turn something so ordinary into art.maybe the shininess of the red from the sun. To me, it seem like the wheel borrow is abandon by the white chickens and have no use anymore. It beauty has bring the color red and white to a unique combination of nature put away. The poem can be telling you so many story about how life is precise , so don’t let it go to waste. You should be happy for what you have, not throw it away.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style=""&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5280210263026870461-2414466556532154290?l=franchescalamarre.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://franchescalamarre.blogspot.com/feeds/2414466556532154290/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://franchescalamarre.blogspot.com/2009/03/red-wheel-barrow.html#comment-form' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5280210263026870461/posts/default/2414466556532154290'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5280210263026870461/posts/default/2414466556532154290'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://franchescalamarre.blogspot.com/2009/03/red-wheel-barrow.html' title='The Red Wheel barrow&quot;'/><author><name>fancydiva86</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10788037379363679809</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5280210263026870461.post-5627750960297891829</id><published>2009-03-18T11:23:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-26T13:13:45.304-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The fish</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt; In “The Fish”, I personally was caught up in all the excitement because I don’t know how it feels to be a fish catch on a hook. This poem, to me, shows an outlook on nature that I have always been accustomed to me. I see nature as a source of life and energy and when you being to see the beauty of it you began to grow an emotional beyond with it. In this poem, to me imagery plays a very big role. When you read the poem the imagery lets you not only think about what you are reading but also it lets you actually see it in your head. She is however well known for her use of imagery and her ability to convey the narrator’s emotions to the reader.&lt;br /&gt;   The use of imagery in this poem had to be used in just the right way. If it was not used properly then the poem could have lost all meaning and understanding, making the poem pretty much useless. When describing the fish, she starts to image the colors on the fish and the beauty of the fish eyes. How the fish have no motion of life in his eyes. She compares the fish skin to the ancient wallpaper in her house. She describes the pieces of broken fishing line hanging from the fish’s mouth as medals with their ribbons that are frayed and wavering in the wind. She use many a similar ways ex press how she have pride and honor for the fish. She decided to let the fish go because she began to grow a connection to the fish.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5280210263026870461-5627750960297891829?l=franchescalamarre.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://franchescalamarre.blogspot.com/feeds/5627750960297891829/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://franchescalamarre.blogspot.com/2009/03/fish.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5280210263026870461/posts/default/5627750960297891829'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5280210263026870461/posts/default/5627750960297891829'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://franchescalamarre.blogspot.com/2009/03/fish.html' title='The fish'/><author><name>fancydiva86</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10788037379363679809</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
