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Infinite Fight

As the lightening led the thunder through the sky,
People from afar watched.
Skillfully it led the invasion
through the warmth and light of the horizon.

The great ocean of darkness' waves,
Splashing again and again,
In the distance everyone saw the fiery Armageddon,
The illusions of dark and light splashed over
Each other both fighting strong and brave.
And suddenly everything stopped and both sides left,
Leaving a beautiful world once again at its peace,
As it was meant to be. 

 

TRUTH

To whom it may concern,
I am a fool.
I tried to understand it all.
and I tried to comprehend.
The girl I was with meant everything to me,
And I let her go again.
I should have taken her
seriously.
I should have listened then.
But here I am alone now,
I am my only friend.

Maybe if I tried just a it more,
I wouldn't have been stuck here
all alone again.

Everyone else loved her
And adored her every touch.
I only liked her cooking
And the money she gave me for the bus.
She said it wouldn't do,
She said it wouldn't happen
And all I said to her was,"You know
it isn't true."

John Fisher

WE EAT THIS

This weekend I had the pleasure of eating at th eCrown Plaza Hotel restaurant, which is located in Nashua, New Hampshire. Once inside, I knew that my meal was going to be enjoyable. With its warm and friendly atmosphere, it was probably the most enjoyable I've had in a long time. When I looked at the menu, there were so many things that I wanted that I didn't know what to get. The longer it took to decide, the more hungry I got Finally, I settled with the brunch.

The brunch was set up right outside of the restaurant, in a great big circle. They had everything on the menu already cooked, and ready to be eatenIn the pans that they used to keep the food hot they had everything from bacon to waffles, omlets to french toast., and fruit to cake. The brunch was set up as a buffet just as most are, and right outside the circle, was a friendly cook ready to whip up anything else that anyone wanted. Now I thought that this was all well and good, until. I got the bill. It was $32.^9 for three people to eat. Thankfully I happned to be staying at the hotel, an dhtey provided my mother with a card that deducts $8.00 off the bill with the stay. I would suggest that a restaurant would only be right for someone to be prepared for emptying their pockets for a good meal.

 

DROPSHOT

I woke up in a cold sweat, frightened about the dream I just had. Even though I knew they were only dreams, it was like they were actually happening. Every night for the past few months I would see the murders of different victims. I never told anyone about them, because having these dreams isn't exactly something to brag about. Recently murders in real life were happening. At first the police thought they were just normally, everyday, street banging homocides. Then there were more and more murders, everyone dying in the same fasion... two small holes would be punctured into the kidneys, and then one in the lungs. They suspected that an icepick was used to do the job. Then all of the jewelery was stripped from the persons' bodies.

That was just the beginning, I soon began seeing more and more of these horrific visions every time I went back to bed. I had just recently read an article that stated that the people who had these kinds of dreams were either losing their minds, doing the murders themselves, or both. All of these bothered me very much. At first I didn't know what to do. Then, I said top myself, "Oh screw it! If it isn't me, then all that will happen to me is some serious humility, and a buch of reporters on my back." But... then on a side note, I was beginning to think that it was me, so I decided to go to the police station the next day.

That night, I had the most disgusting nightmare of them all!!! It was horrendous! I scared myself so much, that I started to cry, remembering the face in the dream, Oh,I just knew I recognized that face before, but I just couldn't put my finger on it.

That morning, I got up as I normally did, and said to myself,'today's the day that I'm going to find out if I am a murderer or not. I turned on the news and sat down. Just as the headlines of the day were coming on, and I was startled. The police commissioners daughter had been brutally murdered the night before. The TV showed pictures of the commisioner and his wife crying, but they were trying to look strong. The lady on the news said that the commisioners daughter 's name was Tracy Sullivan, and she was twenty-four. She also that there was a massive man hunt out, for the killer was being established I couldn't believe it, out of all the people that could have died on that night, it had to be her. What could I do now? I had to think.

I had decided to stick with it and confess to the commisioner himself. The bullitin said he would be in central park gathering information.

I got dressed quickly and ran down the street hoping to catch him before h had left. I had to wait in a long line. Then it was finally my turn, and I saw the commisioners face, it was red, and stained with tear and about to burst with sorrow and anger. He looked much worse in person than on the news. At first I was thinking about leavingbut I went forward. I began to slowly tell him what was going on. And everything flashed before me as I saw The commisioner pul out his gun and fire it three times. Each bullet was lodged in my chest, poking holes in my lungs. I suddenly felt a pain so bad, it was like one that I had never had before. And as I felt my life slowly drip away, soaking into an unexplainable horizon, I heard another officer run over and tell the commisioner that they found the real killer!!

Now don't that just suck!! I'm now dead, and I died because I was stupid and wrong. Maybe in my next life, I won't confess to something that I'm not sure I did.

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

Let me know how my writing affected you. 

My Portfolio

 

Sign my guest book after you read my writing.

   

Infinite Fight

As the lightening led the thunder through the sky,
People from afar watched.
Skillfully it led the invasion
through the warmth and light of the horizon.

The great ocean of darkness' waves,
Splashing again and again,
In the distance everyone saw the fiery Armageddon,
The illusions of dark and light splashed over
Each other both fighting strong and brave.
And suddenly everything stopped and both sides left,
Leaving a beautiful world once again at its peace,
As it was meant to be. 

 

TRUTH

To whom it may concern,
I am a fool.
I tried to understand it all.
and I tried to comprehend.
The girl I was with meant everything to me,
And I let her go again.
I should have taken her
seriously.
I should have listened then.
But here I am alone now,
I am my only friend.

Maybe if I tried just a it more,
I wouldn't have been stuck here
all alone again.

Everyone else loved her
And adored her every touch.
I only liked her cooking
And the money she gave me for the bus.
She said it wouldn't do,
She said it wouldn't happen
And all I said to her was,"You know
it isn't true."

John Fisher

WE EAT THIS

This weekend I had the pleasure of eating at th eCrown Plaza Hotel restaurant, which is located in Nashua, New Hampshire. Once inside, I knew that my meal was going to be enjoyable. With its warm and friendly atmosphere, it was probably the most enjoyable I've had in a long time. When I looked at the menu, there were so many things that I wanted that I didn't know what to get. The longer it took to decide, the more hungry I got Finally, I settled with the brunch.

The brunch was set up right outside of the restaurant, in a great big circle. They had everything on the menu already cooked, and ready to be eatenIn the pans that they used to keep the food hot they had everything from bacon to waffles, omlets to french toast., and fruit to cake. The brunch was set up as a buffet just as most are, and right outside the circle, was a friendly cook ready to whip up anything else that anyone wanted. Now I thought that this was all well and good, until. I got the bill. It was $32.^9 for three people to eat. Thankfully I happned to be staying at the hotel, an dhtey provided my mother with a card that deducts $8.00 off the bill with the stay. I would suggest that a restaurant would only be right for someone to be prepared for emptying their pockets for a good meal.

 

DROPSHOT

I woke up in a cold sweat, frightened about the dream I just had. Even though I knew they were only dreams, it was like they were actually happening. Every night for the past few months I would see the murders of different victims. I never told anyone about them, because having these dreams isn't exactly something to brag about. Recently murders in real life were happening. At first the police thought they were just normally, everyday, street banging homocides. Then there were more and more murders, everyone dying in the same fasion... two small holes would be punctured into the kidneys, and then one in the lungs. They suspected that an icepick was used to do the job. Then all of the jewelery was stripped from the persons' bodies.

That was just the beginning, I soon began seeing more and more of these horrific visions every time I went back to bed. I had just recently read an article that stated that the people who had these kinds of dreams were either losing their minds, doing the murders themselves, or both. All of these bothered me very much. At first I didn't know what to do. Then, I said top myself, "Oh screw it! If it isn't me, then all that will happen to me is some serious humility, and a buch of reporters on my back." But... then on a side note, I was beginning to think that it was me, so I decided to go to the police station the next day.

That night, I had the most disgusting nightmare of them all!!! It was horrendous! I scared myself so much, that I started to cry, remembering the face in the dream, Oh,I just knew I recognized that face before, but I just couldn't put my finger on it.

That morning, I got up as I normally did, and said to myself,'today's the day that I'm going to find out if I am a murderer or not. I turned on the news and sat down. Just as the headlines of the day were coming on, and I was startled. The police commissioners daughter had been brutally murdered the night before. The TV showed pictures of the commisioner and his wife crying, but they were trying to look strong. The lady on the news said that the commisioners daughter 's name was Tracy Sullivan, and she was twenty-four. She also that there was a massive man hunt out, for the killer was being established I couldn't believe it, out of all the people that could have died on that night, it had to be her. What could I do now? I had to think.

I had decided to stick with it and confess to the commisioner himself. The bullitin said he would be in central park gathering information.

I got dressed quickly and ran down the street hoping to catch him before h had left. I had to wait in a long line. Then it was finally my turn, and I saw the commisioners face, it was red, and stained with tear and about to burst with sorrow and anger. He looked much worse in person than on the news. At first I was thinking about leavingbut I went forward. I began to slowly tell him what was going on. And everything flashed before me as I saw The commisioner pul out his gun and fire it three times. Each bullet was lodged in my chest, poking holes in my lungs. I suddenly felt a pain so bad, it was like one that I had never had before. And as I felt my life slowly drip away, soaking into an unexplainable horizon, I heard another officer run over and tell the commisioner that they found the real killer!!

Now don't that just suck!! I'm now dead, and I died because I was stupid and wrong. Maybe in my next life, I won't confess to something that I'm not sure I did.

                                 

Let me know how my writing affected you. 

Date:
05 Jun 2001
Time:
14:18:56
Remote User:
 

Comments

Infinite Fight is (I belive) a draft of PE1, a found poem in which you attempted to compose comprehendable verse out of words gathered in a semi-random fashion. You succeeded in peiceing together your words so well that it dosn't sound like a found poem when read, which is how I belive a well done found peom should be. I'm a little confused by the title which seems to complicate the poem rather than clarify it. In another draft of this poem, I think you should try to come up with a more enlightening title and perhaps add more whitespace, splitting stanza two up a bit. My rating scale is Poor, Ok, Good, Great and this piece earnes a Great.

Dropshot is a draft of PE6 in which you tried to tell a story of crime from a first person perspective. You succeeded in making the crime seem real and terrifing with the details of the serial killer style murders. I was slightly confused when I read "I decided to stick with it"; stick with what? In another draft I think you should elaberate on the final nightmare, being told that is was horrif has no where near the impact that deciding it was horric based on a detailed accound whould have. This piece earns a Good.

Your evaluator: Levi


Date:
06 Jun 2001
Time:
12:31:30
Remote User:
 

Comments

Your first piece on this page, Infinite Fight, is I guess PE1, is wonderful. You can not even tell that you took it out of something else. The sound of it is reaslly cool but confusing. What do you meen with the splashing before the stuff about the fighting? If you were tyo redraft this piece, maybe you could change the line braking. Or you could justput the lines in different places. I just have a boring scale. From 1-7. I would just call yours a 5.357. That would be good. Tim Mogavero.


Date:
07 Jun 2001
Time:
12:05:07
Remote User:
 

Comments

John - (I'm pretty sure that's your first name. Please don't be insulted that I don't know for certain.) Anywho, I'll talk about your second poem which I really like, but I have to admit, is a little confusing. My major question is, who are you talking about? From the beginning of the poem all the way down to almost the end, I am under the impression that you are referring to a lover, or a girlfriend. The line that breaks this illusion is, "I only liked her cooking And the money she gave me for the bus." This made me think that possibly your were writing the poem about a female family member, such as a mother. I'm not sure you could say "The girl I was with meant everything to me," and be talking about your mother, but what do I know? So, this part is confusing for me, but that's about it. Everything else is great. I love the rhyme in the last stanza and I think it's sweet how you take the blame for losing her in the poem. My favorite part of the poem is I should have listened then. "But here I am alone now, I am my only friend." My rating scale is P=powerful, M=mediocre, (I forget the rest.) Anywho, you earn a P for this poem. Good work! Emily Gilbert


Date:
07 Jun 2001
Time:
12:07:04
Remote User:
 

Comments

Sorry about the quotes in the previous comments. It should be, "I should have listened then. But here I am alone now, I am my only friend." I think you get the idea.


Date:
07 Jun 2001
Time:
12:21:31
Remote User:
 

Comments


Date:
07 Jun 2001
Time:
12:27:33
Remote User:
 

Comments

The next piece I want to review is your letter poem. In this poem you were able to make it sound like a letter but still have some poetry sounding stuff. I am however confused in some ways, it sounds like youv'e been there before but you talk about any past relationships. Perhaps in another peice you could make your stanzas shorter (more white space) and tell more. my rating scale again is 1-7, I give you a 6.85 on this piece. Good job, Tim Mogavero.


Date:
14 Jun 2001
Time:
18:19:00
Remote User:
 

Comments

Hi. Mr. McGonegal here. This is your portfolio evaluation. Do you remember what I use for an evaluation scale? An "AW" for AWARD WINNING, a "P" for PUBLISHABLE, or a "p" for PASSING. Your first piece: P. Your second piece: P. Your third piece: p. Your fourth piece: P. Overall, your portfolio represented some of the good work you did this quarter. It was a pleasure writing with you this quarter, and I hope you will keep writing and stop by trueteacher.com to see what your successors are writing for "found poems," "criminal mind" stories, and travelogues. Best, Mr. M