A History with Trees by Marie Ostarello

      Although lacking in drama and momentum, this poem does not lack non-fiction creative writing devices. The non-fiction work is written in first person, this character does not seem to be a round character, for there are parts of her being excessively attached to threes, the same way one would be excessively attach to an antic car collection. The author regards her relationship with her father, as a special one, whilst she thought that he was a great person, there is a sense of dislike in her towards her father. She states "He’d shake his glass, rattling the ice, which meant, more pop," Ostarello was writing from a feminist perspective about her father's role in the family. She talked about how he was the head of the house, and that everyone in the house, mostly the women, worked around him by fetching him things and making sure he was happy. So we can see how it may be possible that the author may hold some type of resentment towards her dad,and even her mother, since she took part of that paternalistic form of household she lived in. Her style of writing is interesting because she tends to deviate every now and then from her narrative in order to to give more information or provide background relative to her narration. She has always been against the cutting of the trees she owned, and since her father was a profession wood cutter, it made their relationship even worse. He had a passion for cutting wood, she had a passion for the perfect conservation of her threes. Not a single branch was to be trimmed, for if it was, she stated: " I yelled. I raged. I said words my parents had never heard me say, until my father packed up his bags and his wife and headed to my brother’s house” But this was not the only time when her father trimmed some of her trees. She later states “I cried. I screamed. I slammed doors," when her father had decided to cut parts of her trees. Here we can see that she has used hyperbole, because it seems a little too exaggerated to be slamming doors, and yelling and crying just because a tree was being cut. And it is not like any of the trees had any particular sentimental value, for she did not mention any. But it is interesting how she gives the three characteristics of a person i.e., "the tree was by all means a “her” with her womanly round shape, her gracefulness, her fruity seeds that she spread all over my sidewalk and porch." In this quote she regards the tree as being a her. Even more interesting is this quote: “I arrived home from work that day, I discovered not only had the dead elm been cut to pieces, but also one of my favorite and, might I add, very alive trees had been severely amputated," I like how she regards the tree as being amputated, as if it was a real person.

Little Things by Raymond Carver

I don’t think Carver many literary devices in this short story, but we can say that there is visual imagery because he paints the picture of a possibly a couple, one about to leave, and a child in between, which in my opinion also creates unpleasant sentiments, because of the image that has been created in your head. Moreover, the baby and the two persons may be working as symbolism for the difference between nature and humans, soil being the baby; nature wants the soil to grow its creation, and humans want soil because they believe its entitled to them since they are the only rational creatures, and that because of their rationality they have dominion over all else in world including land. Synecdoche may also be in use since the baby represents a person as a whole. Finally, I think meiosis is definitely in use, since the characters of the story fight for a baby and hurt the infant in the process, and this is played out if it was something to take lightly, as if screaming, go away! is going to help the problem. I don’t think I’m far off in asserting that in real life, one would immediately call the police or something, or proceed solving the situation in a manner which does not harm the child.
            His writing style in this particular short story seemed strange; he wrote it in third person because he was narrating the story. And the ended was a sharp one, meaning that it was sudden, it was out of nowhere, and it didn’t have a solution, it ended in the characters just fighting for the child.

A Very Old Man with Enormous Wings by Gabriel Garcia Marquez

This pic was taken in San Diego, and it remind me of the story of the old man with large wings because he was described as captive at one point of his life, and people would have to pay in order to see him, in the same way the shark reminded me of the old man with wings because people pay too see this shark.

The second pic is meant to excite sentiments in the viewer. I can only image how the old man must have felt, he must have felt alone and lost in a world in which he is not a native from. So i thought that if one would go outside the planet, one would probably see this, and that person would feel alone, and insignificant in the vast universe, due to its small size in relation to the rest of the substances that are out there.

Conformity vs. Rebellion

There are times in a human life, where one has to give in into conformity, maybe due to peer pressure, or just free will. In my case, high school has probably been the four years that I have fallen into conformity the most. It was a phase of my life in which following what was cool or having new things created an appearance in my spirit which formed new qualities of my persona. This was probably due to the fact that my mind was furnishing itself with new ideas and concepts, and in which everyone’s properties seemed acceptable and even worth pursuing.

It’s funny how it takes me longer to think of a time in which I have stood up (not literally) and not given in. But I would like to recognize that I have had many self-realizations in the past few months, which has placed me in a situation in which I have doubted many things I do and say, and I have ask myself, why do I do this, or why is this the way it is, attempting to answer such questions have made me realize that there are many things that we do because the majority of us do it, so I have propose myself to carb my own thoughts of things which will hopefully lead me to a new life in which I am in full command.

              

Kalamarka “Mamita”

The sun rises from the frozen plateau

with its dress worn by the years

The air of the wind of the plateau

direct little sheep to the mountain range

To fight against this though life

the coca foliage solely helps you

Beautiful mother your eye pouches are a pride of the motherearth.

Mother, you pray for the earth,

even the moon stays silent.

It doesn’t speak of the neither the sun nor the rain.

Where could your lost dreams be?

A callus sole has form

On your grounds, dust by the frost

Your womb, you breast wrinkled

Just like the earth that has given plenty of fruits.

Even though this life is hard,

Your body radiates of this love.

You leave dancing on your plateau

Like the star wara warita

The moon reflects you black locks

Woven with silver threat

Kalamarka is a band from Bolivia that plays lainamerican music, this song in particular I think is directed towards the Andean women of Bolivia. The original song is in Spanish but I was able to find its translation. I think it’s not literary talking about mothers, rather, I think it is a word that describes women of the Bolivian plateau.

            I would consider the song to be almost poetry because for example they used personification when they described the frozen plateau to have a dress worn by the years. It could also be a metaphor, for saying that the land has been used to plant crops for many years.

            Another personification and metaphor can be found, “Even the moon stays silent. It doesn’t speak of the neither of the sun or the rain.” The moon does not speak so this is definitely a personification. Furthermore, I think it is a metaphor for saying that it doesn’t rain or shine on the Bolivian plateau.

            I think the whole song creates a visual imagery on the listeners mind. It creates an image of the hard working Andean women of Bolivia. We can clearly image these women to be hard working women, and even though “life is hard,” they still radiate with love.

            I personally love the last line, where they say ‘You leave dancing on you plateau Like the star wara warita The moon reflects your black locks Woven with silver threat,” This creates an imagery in my head of a woman dancing her way home after a longs day of work.

here a link to the song: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XwH7dhQeQSk

Spring Snow by Arthur Sze

A spring snow coincides with plum blossoms.

In a month, you will forget, then remember

when nine ravens perched in the elm sway in wind.

I will remember when I brake to a stop,

and a hubcap rolls through the intersection.

An angry man grinds pepper onto his salad;

it is how you nail a tin amulet ear

into the lintel. If, in deep emotion, we are

possessed by the idea of possession,

we can never lose to recover what is ours.

Sounds of an abacus are amplified and condensed

to resemble sounds of hail on a tin roof,

but mind opens to the smell of lightening.

Bodies were vaporized to shadows by intense heat;

in memory people outline bodies on walls.

            This poem caught my attention because when I say Spring and Snow together it just didn’t seem like they would go together, because you usually see snow in the winter not spring. Furthermore, there is a big contrast in the title because when I think of snow I think of cold, winter, discomfort, and when I think of spring, I think of water, green mountain hills, dancing, laughing, rebirth and many other happy things that do not associate itself with snow. 

Pablo Neruda's Ode to Sadness

            I thought ode to sadness would be interesting to read because all of us have faced sadness some time in our life. I thought the poem was semi clear, meaning that it was hardly ambiguous. When he says “scarab with seven crippled feet, spiderweb egg, scramble-brained rat, bitch's skeleton,” I think he is trying to describe what sadness is, and at the same time create an image of how horrendous sadness is to him. Which I would consider to be a hyperbole, an exaggeration of what sadness really is or could be. Neruda also uses emphasis when he tells sadness more than three times to go away. He uses words to convey an image that he does not want sadness to enter his thoughts. Some of the words portray a grotesque image (i.e. “bitch’s skeleton”, “I will wring your neck,” “I will stitch your eyelids shut”) So we clearly get an image of this person who does not want sadness to enter his/her thoughts, and he/she will do anything to keep it away his/her thoughts.