English 10: Writing Portfolio

   
   
Essay the first: Origins  
Essay the second: Literature  
   
   
   
   
   
   
   
   
   
   
   
   
   
   
   
  First of all Iíd like to thank-you for reading my essay today, second of all, the story I am about to tell is not only funny, but it says something major about my sibling. It is a story of which I know regrets and will never forget. Reason being Iím still suffering from the results.

My older sister, Liesel and I were young, I was about seven so she was eight. It was a very hot August day and we, once again, had nothing to do. We decided to go out into the back yard and play a game or something, but nothing seemed to cure the boredom.

At my old house, there was a little hallway like structure that leads to the basement, connecting to the back of my house. Being the destructive little boy I was, I decided to build a little fort for my action figures at the base of the structure and Liesel and I would go on the roof of the structure, to see how many stones it would take to bring the fort to the ground. I got a bucket full of rocks and proceeded to push my fat sister onto the roof of the hallway structure. Once I finally pulled my self up, we began to bombard the fort.

The fort was still a pretty formidable hut when we ran out of rocks. My sister Liesel was demanding that I go and fetch more rocks and I just didnít want to. I went to look at the fort to see how many rocks Iíd need to finish it off when my older sister got the idea. When I was leaning off the edge of the roof, I felt a sudden pain throughout my entire body. Letís just say I didnít need to get anymore rocks.

When I landed on the mass combination of rocks, sticks and Lincoln logs, I had no idea what happened. I think anyone lying on the ground in extreme pain, staring up at a little fat face, which was laughing with such malice, could put the pieces of the puzzle together and realize that they had been pushed off a roof.

Although it was only about a 7 foot drop, it hurt like nothing I had ever felt. My ankle had black and purple bruises all over it and was slightly swollen. Liesel then convinced me not to tell my Mom because I would get in even more trouble for being on the roof in the first place. Being the ignorant seven year old I was, I sadly listened.

My ankle still hurts me to this day after I run for a while. But it just reminds me to run more, so that when she is plummeting off the next roof, I can run far away and escape the hardships of punishment.

This story tells me a lot about my sibling. Although she loves me as a brother, she loves comedy more. This may or may not be true, but she can decide this herself. Either way, Iíll have the last laugh, even if I have to go as far as pulling her down with me.

   

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Dear Mr Dickens,

I hope all is well and your the family. As your will soon find out I'm as happy with your writing ass you thought i might be. it truly was a difficult decision but i cannot place your work in this year's eddtion of Prentice Hall Literary Text Book. I personnely enjoyed some of your stroeis very much but I don't be;live they show the qualities of writing that a tenth grade student can learn from.The plot is always somewhat similar, in that there realtting to the middle class and they often get off subject.

 Mr Dickemns, you give too much detail. To show this I will quote Part of a paragraph from your short story Hard Times. "Thomas Gradgrind, sir. A man of realities. A man of fact and calculations. A man who proceeds etc..." The paragraph goes on like this for seven and a half more linesdescribing a single character and then jumpos back into the story. The story does this three more time describing other things and makes the reading confusing. This kind of of writing is a style in its own, but shows no value to me or others in the educatiopn of a tenth grade student. Others such as David Cecil once quoted in his book Victorian Novels on page 22, "Dickens' books often havetoo much plot. After pages of humourous conversation,he will remember there should be a plot and plunge back for a paragraph or two of elaborate intrigue;all the harder to follow from the fact that the fallible human mind has had to carry it un helped through the long space of time since he let fall his thread."

I honestly do not think students i am trying to teach get anything but heachaces trying to study your work. This is the main reason why i have to cut you loose from the structure of my new book.

 I found citations from from David Cecils book Victorian Novelists copyrightted in 1935 by the Bobbs Mill Company Page 22, Chapter 11. Please don't take it personely but better luck next edition! Sincerely Jon Ramaci

   

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

   

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Winter Poem

Mother obstinancy will never cease
Wanting white lands
And giving cold hands
Thus the snow piles shall increase
imperiously the snow precitpitated
The children frolic
Their parents choleric
Staying inside to subdue the cold
their feelings on winter are surley bold
Discerning flue from cough
Sicknesses from the cold
Boysterously eating soup as if from a trouph
Adults dont know
The fun anymore
playing deep in the Northland
Aside from the shore.

   

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Dog
in imitation of The Tiger by William Blake

The porch is the home of the dog.
He sleeps through the rain the snow and the fog.
During the time of day,
he runs and like to play.
The master is so young,
the dog slobbers him with his tongue.
They shared times that were so swell,
until his master fell down the well.
The dog ran to be helped,
he barked and scratched and whelped.
The father came quickly running,
when the boy suffered the well's shunning.
The rope pulled his master out,
and in joy did they all shout.
The importance of a friend his master did see,
he was so lucky to have Lassie.