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Post by Nickel Corellaire on Apr 1, 2006 15:19:48 GMT -5
I shall make a poem on the spot.
Animal Rights by Me
Animals die Without rights Innocent Just trying to survive
Humans don't let animals Live for their whole life Humans don't care about innocent animals
Except me And a few others Trying to give rights To animals
OMG, I have been reading Wicked a little too much lately...
I shall recite the poem I have to read in Malloys class...
The Beginning of the Armadillos By Rudyard Kipling
I've never seen the Amazon I've never reached Brazil But the Don and Magdalena They can go there when they will
Yes, weekly from Southampton Great steamers, white and gold, Go rolling down to Rio Roll down roll down to rio And I'd like to roll to rio some day before i'm old
I've never seen a jaguar nor yet an armadill- o dilloing in his armour and I s'pose i never will
Unless I go to Rio these wonders to behold Roll down roll down to rio roll really down to rio Oh, I'd love to roll to rio Some day before I'm old
I hate that poem so much...
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Post by PatWak on Apr 3, 2006 20:09:35 GMT -5
Well, why didn't you do a different one? I will type mine.
O Captain, My Captain, our fearful trip is done. The ship has weather'd ev'ry rack, the prize we sought is won. The port is near, the bells I hear, the people all exulting. While follow eyes the steady keel, the vessel grim and daring. But O Heart! Heart! Heart! Oh the bleeding drops of red. Where on the deck my captain lies, Fallen cold and dead.
O Captain, My Captain! Rise up and hear the bells! Rise up, for you the flag is flung, for you the buggle trills. For you boquets and ribbon'd wreaths, for you the shores a crowding. For you they call, the swaying mass, their eager faces turning. Here Captain! Dear father! This arm beneath your head. It is some dream that the deck You've fallen cold and dead.
My Captain does not answer, his lips are pale and still. My father does not feel my arm, he has no pulse or will. The ship is anchor'd safe and sound, its voyage closed and done. From fearful trip, The vistor ship, comes in with object won. Exult, O shores! And ring, O bells! But I, with mournful tread Walk the deck, my captain lies, Fallen cold and dead.
Wow, I typed that all from memory.
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Post by Aria Gust on Apr 3, 2006 21:06:05 GMT -5
This is the one I am reciting. I am not sure which one I am reading yet...I'd better decide that...
Tyger! Tyger! Burning bright in the forests of the night what immortal hand or eye could frame thy fearful symmetry
in what distant deeps or skies burnt the fire of thine eyes on what wings dare he aspire what the hand dare seize the fire
and what shoulder and what art? could twist the sinews of thy heart and when thy heart began to beat what dread hands? and what dread feet?
what the hammer? what the chain? in what furnace was thy brain? what the anvil? what dread grasp dare its deadly terros clasp
when the stars threw down their spears and watered heaven with their tears did He smile His work to see did He who made the Lamb make thee?
Tyger! Tyger! Burning bright in the forests of the night what immortal hand or eye could frame th fearful symmetry? (I spelled tiger like the author spelled it. I may have gotten a few puncuation marks in the wrong places. It was from memory
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Post by PatWak on Apr 4, 2006 18:23:26 GMT -5
Well that is good that we can recite (type) our poems from memory.
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Post by Nickel Corellaire on Apr 5, 2006 19:39:07 GMT -5
actually i don't hate my poem, I like it, I just don't want to recite it!
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Post by Aria Gust on Apr 5, 2006 21:03:05 GMT -5
Well...I am afraid to read my poem in class, because it makes me sound like I am insane. All well...I should have volunteered today and gotten it over with...
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Post by Nickel Corellaire on Apr 6, 2006 16:25:25 GMT -5
I recited my poem today, and I was shaking and I didn't stand right up to the mic so I am not even sure if Malloy heard me in the back... Now I'm nervous about what my grade will be... ugh
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Post by PatWak on Apr 7, 2006 21:10:07 GMT -5
I don't see why you guys were nervous(sp?). I voluntered (sp?) tog o first, and got it done with right away. It wasn't bad.
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Post by Aria Gust on Apr 7, 2006 22:30:12 GMT -5
It wasn't reading a poem out loud or reciting a poem that made me nervous, it was exposing that part of yourself that you have to expose when you read your own poetry.
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Post by Raistlin Majere on Apr 7, 2006 23:19:57 GMT -5
Hello Birthday To You! You're 102! You Look Like A Monkey! And You Smell Like One Too!
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Post by PatWak on Apr 8, 2006 12:01:20 GMT -5
Hello birthday? Isn't it happy birthday?
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Post by Nickel Corellaire on Apr 10, 2006 20:27:58 GMT -5
It should be happy... and Patwak, I get nervous about anything that involves me doing something in front of more than 10 people... and also what Aria said.
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Post by PatWak on Apr 11, 2006 17:01:21 GMT -5
I am not the nervous kind of person. It never bothered me.
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Post by Aria Gust on Apr 11, 2006 18:26:42 GMT -5
Oh, I don't get nervous if I'm reading something written by someone else.
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Post by PatWak on Apr 11, 2006 20:31:35 GMT -5
I don't get nervous period.
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