<?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-447536433388173117</id><updated>2011-07-29T02:03:17.401-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Best Poem of the Day</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kpeabody.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/447536433388173117/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kpeabody.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>KPeabody</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09636827856715400039</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='15' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_mlzjdXPn7jY/S1kd3kWcDfI/AAAAAAAAAAM/LlV_JBzgpS8/S220/Picture+1.png'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>12</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-447536433388173117.post-5554186153783623448</id><published>2010-03-02T04:13:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-03-02T05:28:09.886-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Mid-Term Break</title><content type='html'>&lt;i&gt;Mid-Term Brea&lt;/i&gt;k by Seamus Heaney&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I sat all morning in the college sick bay&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Counting bells knelling classes to a close.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;At two o'clock our neighbors drove me home.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;In the porch I met my father crying—&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;He had always taken funerals in stride—&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And Big Jim Evans saying it was a hard blow.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The baby cooed and laughed and rocked the pram&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;When I came in, and I was embarrassed&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;By old men standing up to shake my hand&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And tell me they were 'sorry for my trouble.'&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Whispers informed strangers I was the eldest,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Away at school, as my mother held my hand&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;In hers and coughed out angry tearless sighs.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;At ten o'clock the ambulance arrived&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;With the corpse, stanched and bandaged by the nurses.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Next morning I went up into the room. Snowdrops&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And candles soothed the bedside; I saw him&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;For the first time in six weeks. Paler now,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Wearing a poppy bruise on his left temple,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;He lay in the four-foot box as in his cot.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;No gaudy scars, the bumper knocked him clear.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;A four-foot box, a foot for every year.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;One thing that I liked about this poem was the emotion described in this poem. Heaney had very good description of what people go through when a loved one is lost.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;One thing that I disliked about this poem was the story being told. It was a good story overall, but it is a very sad subject. If I had a little brother, I would be very upset by this event.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;One thing that confused me about this poem was if the little kid was actually dead or not. I was not familiar with this type of funeral where they bring the body upstairs, so I was confused by that.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;The main poetic device used in this poem is a paradox. A paradox is an apparent contradiction that is nevertheless somehow true. The paradox used in this poem is the last line in the poem, "A four-foot box, a foot for every year." This seems bizarre, but it is the narrators little brother.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;!--StartFragment--&gt;    &lt;!--EndFragment--&gt;   &lt;!--StartFragment--&gt;    &lt;!--EndFragment--&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/447536433388173117-5554186153783623448?l=kpeabody.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kpeabody.blogspot.com/feeds/5554186153783623448/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://kpeabody.blogspot.com/2010/03/mid-term-break.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/447536433388173117/posts/default/5554186153783623448'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/447536433388173117/posts/default/5554186153783623448'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kpeabody.blogspot.com/2010/03/mid-term-break.html' title='Mid-Term Break'/><author><name>KPeabody</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09636827856715400039</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='15' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_mlzjdXPn7jY/S1kd3kWcDfI/AAAAAAAAAAM/LlV_JBzgpS8/S220/Picture+1.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-447536433388173117.post-5958133711966547625</id><published>2010-02-22T07:59:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-02-22T08:33:43.143-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Siren Song</title><content type='html'>&lt;i&gt;Siren Song&lt;/i&gt; by Margaret Atwood&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;This is the one song everyone&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;would like to learn: the song&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;that is irresistible:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;the song that forces men&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;to leap overboard in squadrons&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;even though they see the beached skulls&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;the song nobody knows&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;because anyone who has heard it&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;is dead, and the others can't remember.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Shall I tell you the secret&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;and if I do, will you get me&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;out of this bird suit?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I don't enjoy it here&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;squatting on this island&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;looking picturesque and mythical&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;with these two feathery maniacs,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I don't enjoy singing&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;this trio, fatal and valuable.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I will tell the secret to you,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;to you, only to you.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Come closer. This song&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;is a cry for help: Help me!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Only you, only you can,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;you are unique&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;at last. Alas&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;it is a boring song&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;but it works every time.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;One thing that I liked about this poem was of how it was talking to the reader. Many poems are just stories, but in this one it was trying to gather the audience in by repeating the word 'you' six times.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;One thing that I disliked about this poem was the unhappiness throughout the whole poem. Everybody was unsatisfied with where they are and what position they are in with their lives. This made it a dark and gloomy poem, which I do not particularly like.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;One thing that confused me about this poem was why everyone in this poem was dressed as birds. The siren is typically in a bird suit, but there were "two feathery maniacs" besides her.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;The main poetic device used in this poem is the use of allusions. An allusion is a reference to something in history or previous literature. This poem is alluding to Greek mythology. A siren is a woman/creature with bird. This siren has characteristics that lure sailors in by their beauty, and the siren is killing these people.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/447536433388173117-5958133711966547625?l=kpeabody.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kpeabody.blogspot.com/feeds/5958133711966547625/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://kpeabody.blogspot.com/2010/02/siren-song.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/447536433388173117/posts/default/5958133711966547625'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/447536433388173117/posts/default/5958133711966547625'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kpeabody.blogspot.com/2010/02/siren-song.html' title='Siren Song'/><author><name>KPeabody</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09636827856715400039</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='15' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_mlzjdXPn7jY/S1kd3kWcDfI/AAAAAAAAAAM/LlV_JBzgpS8/S220/Picture+1.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-447536433388173117.post-6165608336272780381</id><published>2010-02-21T17:45:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-02-21T18:53:08.298-08:00</updated><title type='text'>in Just—</title><content type='html'>&lt;i&gt;in Just—&lt;/i&gt; by e. e. cummings&lt;!--StartFragment--&gt;&lt;!--EndFragment--&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;in Just-&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;spring&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;when the world is mud-&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;luscious the little&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;lam balloonman&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;whistles&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;far&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;and wee&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;and eddieandbill come&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;running from marbles and&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;piracies and it's&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;spring&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;when the world is puddle-wonderful&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;the queer&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;old balloonman whitles&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;far&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;and&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;wee&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;and bettyandisbel come dancing&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;from hop-scotch and jump-rope and&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;it's&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;spring&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;and&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;the&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;goat-footed&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;balloonMan&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;whistles&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;far&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;and&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;wee&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre; "&gt; &lt;/span&gt;One thing that I liked about this poem was the allusion used in this poem. It was very interesting to see how the two connected to each other.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre; "&gt; &lt;/span&gt;One thing that I disliked about this poem was how it was set up. I guess the author did that for a purpose on how to read it or something, but I did not like it.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;One thing that confused me about this poem was why these kids kept going near this skeptical balloonman. He is a very skeptical character in this poem.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;The main poetic device used in this poem was allusions. An allusion is a reference to something in history or previous literature. The allusion in this poem was the reference to the balloon man being goat-footed. This refers to Pan who was half man/half goat. He played the pipes to bring attention to himself from other people just like the balloonman is doing.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/447536433388173117-6165608336272780381?l=kpeabody.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kpeabody.blogspot.com/feeds/6165608336272780381/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://kpeabody.blogspot.com/2010/02/in-just.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/447536433388173117/posts/default/6165608336272780381'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/447536433388173117/posts/default/6165608336272780381'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kpeabody.blogspot.com/2010/02/in-just.html' title='in Just—'/><author><name>KPeabody</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09636827856715400039</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='15' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_mlzjdXPn7jY/S1kd3kWcDfI/AAAAAAAAAAM/LlV_JBzgpS8/S220/Picture+1.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-447536433388173117.post-458768717220417333</id><published>2010-02-18T19:42:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-02-18T19:55:05.608-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Barbie Doll</title><content type='html'>&lt;i&gt;Barbie Doll&lt;/i&gt; by Marge Piercy&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;This girlchild was born as usual&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;and presented dolls that did pee-pee&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;and miniature GE stoves and irons&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;and wee lipsticks the color of cherry candy &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Then in the magic of puberty, a classmate said:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;You have a great big nose and fat legs.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;She was healthy, tested intelligent,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;possessed strong arms and back, &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;abundant sexual drive and manual dexterity.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;She went to and fro apologizing.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Everyone saw a fat nose on thick legs.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;She was advised to play coy.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;exhorted to come on hearty,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;exercise, diet, smile and wheedle.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Her good nature wore out&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;like a fan belt.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So she cut off her nose and her legs&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;and offered them up.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;In the casket displayed on satin she lay&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;with the undertaker's cosmetics painted on,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;a turned-up putty nose,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;dressed in a pink and white nightie.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Doesn't she look pretty? everyone said.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Consummation at last.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;To every woman a happy ending.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;One thing that I liked about this poem was how she was very nice about it and tried apologizing to everyone. She was a very nice girl, but in the end she did something tragic.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;One thing that I disliked about this poem was how sad it was. It was a very depressing poem, and in the end the girl takes her life because one person bullied her and she listened.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;One thing that confused me about this poem was if she actually had a big nose and thick legs. In the end, everyone thinks she is beautiful. I couldn't tell if only one person saw that or if it was actually true.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;The main poetic device used in this poem is the use of verbal irony. Verbal irony is simply saying the opposite of what one means. An example of this is the line in the poem, "You have a great big nose and fat legs." This was actually false in my presumption of the poem. Everyone but this one person thought she was beautiful. Maybe this one classmate was using verbal irony.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/447536433388173117-458768717220417333?l=kpeabody.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kpeabody.blogspot.com/feeds/458768717220417333/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://kpeabody.blogspot.com/2010/02/barbie-doll.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/447536433388173117/posts/default/458768717220417333'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/447536433388173117/posts/default/458768717220417333'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kpeabody.blogspot.com/2010/02/barbie-doll.html' title='Barbie Doll'/><author><name>KPeabody</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09636827856715400039</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='15' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_mlzjdXPn7jY/S1kd3kWcDfI/AAAAAAAAAAM/LlV_JBzgpS8/S220/Picture+1.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-447536433388173117.post-4608080155297162731</id><published>2010-02-15T18:33:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-02-15T20:29:19.067-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Harlem Hopscotch</title><content type='html'>&lt;i&gt;Harlem Hopscotch&lt;/i&gt; by Maya Angelou&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;One foot down, then hop! It's hot.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;Good things for the ones that's got.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Another jump, now to the left.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;Everybody for hisself.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;In the air, now both feet down.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;Since you black, don't stick around.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Food is gone, the rent is due,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;Curse and cry and then jump two.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;All the people out of work,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;Hold for three, then twist and jerk.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Cross the line, they count you out.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;That's what hopping's all about.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Both feet flat, the game is done.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;They think I lost, I think I won.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;One thing that I liked about this poem was was the last two lines to the poem. It was a good summary of the whole poem and it summed up what the poet was trying to say in the poem.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;One thing that I disliked about this poem was how it was about hopscotch. I was never good at the game of hopscotch.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;One thing that confused me about this poem was the number of jumps, and how it increasingly got larger as the poem went on and on. I didn't know if that represented the steps in life or what it represented.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;The main poetic device used in this poem is the use of symbols in figurative language. A symbol is something that expresses something greater than what it actually is. The symbol that is in this poem is the game of hopscotch. I believe that this is more than just a game of lines. I believe that the lines in the hopscotch court represent more than just a game. I think they represent the boundaries of racism. The part in the poem that pointed this out to me was, "Cross the line, they count you out./ That's what hopping's all about./ Both feet flat, the game is done./ They think I lost, I think I won."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/447536433388173117-4608080155297162731?l=kpeabody.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kpeabody.blogspot.com/feeds/4608080155297162731/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://kpeabody.blogspot.com/2010/02/harlem-hopscotch.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/447536433388173117/posts/default/4608080155297162731'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/447536433388173117/posts/default/4608080155297162731'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kpeabody.blogspot.com/2010/02/harlem-hopscotch.html' title='Harlem Hopscotch'/><author><name>KPeabody</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09636827856715400039</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='15' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_mlzjdXPn7jY/S1kd3kWcDfI/AAAAAAAAAAM/LlV_JBzgpS8/S220/Picture+1.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-447536433388173117.post-2392898422361716160</id><published>2010-02-08T05:03:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-02-08T06:50:53.516-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Weighing the Dog</title><content type='html'>&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Weighing the Dog&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt; by Billy Collins&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px; line-height: 16px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;It is awkward for me and bewildering for him&lt;br /&gt;as I hold him in my arms in the small bathroom,&lt;br /&gt;balancing our weight on the shaky blue scale,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;but this is the way to weigh a dog and easier&lt;br /&gt;than training him to sit obediently on one spot&lt;br /&gt;with his tongue out, waiting for the cookie.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;With pencil and paper I subtract my weight&lt;br /&gt;from our total to find out the remainder that is his,&lt;br /&gt;and I start to wonder if there is an analogy here.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It could not have to do with my leaving you&lt;br /&gt;though I never figured out what you amounted to&lt;br /&gt;until I subtracted myself from our combination.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You held me in your arms more than I held you&lt;br /&gt;through all those awkward and bewildering months&lt;br /&gt;and now we are both lost in strange and distant neighborhoods.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px; line-height: 16px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px; line-height: 16px;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;One thing I liked about this poem is how the author of it got straight to the point. He said, "and I start to wonder if there is an analogy here." He tries to get across the point that he is throwing in an analogy into this poem. He is very straight forward.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px; line-height: 16px;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;One thing I disliked about this poem is in the last stanza, how they separate to their different ways.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px; line-height: 16px;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;One thing that confused me about this was what the author was trying to portray through the dog. The dog symbolizes something, but I can't figure out exactly what he's talking about.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px; line-height: 16px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px; line-height: 16px;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;The main poetic device used in this poem is the use of symbols in figurative language.&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: normal; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;A symbol is something that expresses something greater that what it actually is. A symbol in this poem is the dog and the weighing of the dog. "&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 16px; "&gt;It could not have to do with my leaving you though I never figured out what you amounted to until I subtracted myself from our combination." This quote is a good example that there could be greater meaning to the dog than &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/447536433388173117-2392898422361716160?l=kpeabody.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kpeabody.blogspot.com/feeds/2392898422361716160/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://kpeabody.blogspot.com/2010/02/weighing-dog.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/447536433388173117/posts/default/2392898422361716160'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/447536433388173117/posts/default/2392898422361716160'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kpeabody.blogspot.com/2010/02/weighing-dog.html' title='Weighing the Dog'/><author><name>KPeabody</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09636827856715400039</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='15' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_mlzjdXPn7jY/S1kd3kWcDfI/AAAAAAAAAAM/LlV_JBzgpS8/S220/Picture+1.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-447536433388173117.post-5852866353989061274</id><published>2010-02-05T03:57:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-02-05T05:06:06.270-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Fire and Ice</title><content type='html'>&lt;i&gt;Fire and Ice&lt;/i&gt; by Robert Frost&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Some say the world will end in fire, &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Some say in ice.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;From what I've tasted of desire&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I hold with those who favor fire.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;But if it had to perish twice,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I think I know enough of hate&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;To say that for destruction ice&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Is also great&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And would suffice.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;One thing that I liked about this poem was the fact that it rhymed. It rhymed, plus it had good meaning to the poem.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;One thing that I disliked about this poem was the fact that it is a depressing topic to talk about. The world ending is a big subject and it is very deep and dark.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;One thing that confused me about this poem was the reasons in which the author wanted the earth to perish because of fire or ice. They mentioned a few things about it, but I couldn't tell exactly what his reasoning was.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;The main poetic device used in this poem the use of symbols. A symbol is something that expresses something greater that what it actually is. An example of this is, "Some say the world will end in fire, Some say in ice." Ice can be a symbol for something and so can fire. The world can also be something that is significant.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/447536433388173117-5852866353989061274?l=kpeabody.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kpeabody.blogspot.com/feeds/5852866353989061274/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://kpeabody.blogspot.com/2010/02/fire-and-ice.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/447536433388173117/posts/default/5852866353989061274'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/447536433388173117/posts/default/5852866353989061274'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kpeabody.blogspot.com/2010/02/fire-and-ice.html' title='Fire and Ice'/><author><name>KPeabody</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09636827856715400039</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='15' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_mlzjdXPn7jY/S1kd3kWcDfI/AAAAAAAAAAM/LlV_JBzgpS8/S220/Picture+1.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-447536433388173117.post-5701506727692837666</id><published>2010-02-01T05:04:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-02-01T05:45:26.350-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Meeting at Night</title><content type='html'>&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;Meeting at Night&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt; by Robert Browning&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;The grey sea and the long black land;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;And the yellow half-moon large and low;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;And the startled little waves that leap&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;In fiery ringlets from their sleep,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;As I gain the cove with pushing prow,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;And quench its speed i' the slushy sand.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;Then a mile of warm sea-scented beach;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;Three fields to cross till a farm appears;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;A tap at the pane, the quick sharp scratch&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;And blue spurt of a lighted match,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;And a voice less loud, thro' its joys and fears,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;Than the two hearts beating each to each!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;One thing that I liked about this poem was the imagery used in this poem. You can picture what the author is talking about in this poem. I liked imagining what this looked like as I read along with it.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;One thing that I disliked about this poem was the last line of the poem, "Than the two hearts beating each to each!" I didn't think that they talked about two people in that poem. They only talked about the journey of one person and they don't mention anything about another person.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;One thing that confused me about this poem was where this person is coming from. They start on the ocean, but it makes it seem like this person came out of the grey sea.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;The poetic device used in this poem that I found interesting was, the imagery used in this poem. I liked the use of the visual imagery. An example of the use of visual imagery is, "The grey sea and the long black land; And the yellow half-moon large and low;"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/447536433388173117-5701506727692837666?l=kpeabody.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kpeabody.blogspot.com/feeds/5701506727692837666/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://kpeabody.blogspot.com/2010/02/meeting-at-night.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/447536433388173117/posts/default/5701506727692837666'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/447536433388173117/posts/default/5701506727692837666'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kpeabody.blogspot.com/2010/02/meeting-at-night.html' title='Meeting at Night'/><author><name>KPeabody</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09636827856715400039</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='15' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_mlzjdXPn7jY/S1kd3kWcDfI/AAAAAAAAAAM/LlV_JBzgpS8/S220/Picture+1.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-447536433388173117.post-1021071419088780091</id><published>2010-01-29T05:12:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-29T06:05:03.007-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Those Winter Sundays</title><content type='html'>&lt;i&gt;Those Winter Sundays&lt;/i&gt; by Robert Hayden&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Sundays too my father got up early&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;and put his clothes on in the blueblack cold,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;then with cracked hands that ached&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;from labor in the weekday weather made&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;banked fires blaze. No one ever thanked him.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I'd wake and hear the cold splintering, breaking.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;When the rooms were warm, he'd call,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;and slowly I would rise and dress, &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;fearing the chronic angers of that house,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Speaking indifferently to him,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;who had driven out the cold&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;and polished my good shoes as well.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;What did I know, what did I know&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;of love's austere and lonely offices?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;One thing that I liked about this poem was how descriptive it was. The author uses good imagery in this poem.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;I didn't really dislike anything about this poem. The description was great, and it was a good poem overall.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;One thing that confused me about this poem was the story being told in this poem. I did not know whether it was talking about slavery, or what it was actually talking about.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;The main literary device used in this poem was the use of auditory imagery. Auditory imagery is an image that represents a sound. An example from the poem that describes this is, "I'd wake and hear the cold splintering, breaking."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/447536433388173117-1021071419088780091?l=kpeabody.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kpeabody.blogspot.com/feeds/1021071419088780091/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://kpeabody.blogspot.com/2010/01/those-winter-sundays.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/447536433388173117/posts/default/1021071419088780091'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/447536433388173117/posts/default/1021071419088780091'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kpeabody.blogspot.com/2010/01/those-winter-sundays.html' title='Those Winter Sundays'/><author><name>KPeabody</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09636827856715400039</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='15' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_mlzjdXPn7jY/S1kd3kWcDfI/AAAAAAAAAAM/LlV_JBzgpS8/S220/Picture+1.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-447536433388173117.post-2645080827869662978</id><published>2010-01-26T05:26:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-26T06:16:53.447-08:00</updated><title type='text'>To His Coy Mistress</title><content type='html'>&lt;i&gt;To His Coy Mistres&lt;/i&gt;s by Andrew Marvell&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;Had we but world enough, and time,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;This coyness, lady, were no crime.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;We would sit down, and think which way&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;To walk, and pass our long love's day.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Thou by the Indian Ganges' side&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Shouldst rubies find; I by the tide&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Of Humber would complain. I would&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Love you ten years before the Flood,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And you should, if you please, refuse&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Till the conversion of Jews.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;My vegetable love should grow&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Vaster that empires, and more slow;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;An hundred years should go to praise&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Thine eyes, and on thy forehead gaze;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Two hundred to adore each breast,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;But thirty thousand to the rest;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;An age at least to every part,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And the last age should show your heart.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;For, lady, you deserves this state, &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Nor would I love at lower rate.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;But at my back I always hear&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Time's wingèd chariot hurrying near;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And yonder all before us lie&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Deserts of vast eternity.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Thy beauty shall no more be found, &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Nor, in thy marble vault, shall sound&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;My echoing song; then worms shall try&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;That long-preserved virginity, &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And your quaint honor turn to dust,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And into ashes all my lust:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The grave's a find and private place,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;But none, I think, do there embrace.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;Now therefore, while the youthful hue&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Sits on thy skin like morning dew,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And while thy willing soul transpires&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;At every pore with instant fires,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Now let us sport us while we may,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;A d now, like amorous birds of prey,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Rathe at once our time devour&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Than languish in his slow-chapped power.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Let us roll all our strength and all&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Our sweetness up into one ball, &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And tear our pleasures with rough strife&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Thorough the iron gates of life.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Thus, though we cannot make our sun&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Stand still, yet we will make him run.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;One thing that I liked about this poem was the use of different poetic devices in the poem. There were two main poetic devices that were used, metaphors and metonymies.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;One thing that I disliked about this poem was the length of it.  The longer poems are to be, the more it seems to confuse me and have me not know what is going on during it.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;One thing that confused me about this poem was the actual meaning of it. I couldn't exactly tell what the poem was truly about and what the author was trying to say in the text.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;The poetic device used in this poem that I found interesting was, the use of a metonymy. A metonymy is the use of something closely related for the thing actually meant. An example of a metonymy used in this poem is the line in which they say, 'Deserts of vast eternity.'&lt;/div&gt;&lt;!--StartFragment--&gt;    &lt;!--EndFragment--&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/447536433388173117-2645080827869662978?l=kpeabody.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kpeabody.blogspot.com/feeds/2645080827869662978/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://kpeabody.blogspot.com/2010/01/to-his-coy-mistress.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/447536433388173117/posts/default/2645080827869662978'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/447536433388173117/posts/default/2645080827869662978'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kpeabody.blogspot.com/2010/01/to-his-coy-mistress.html' title='To His Coy Mistress'/><author><name>KPeabody</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09636827856715400039</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='15' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_mlzjdXPn7jY/S1kd3kWcDfI/AAAAAAAAAAM/LlV_JBzgpS8/S220/Picture+1.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-447536433388173117.post-2723849070546840426</id><published>2010-01-24T10:31:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-24T10:45:25.238-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Author to Her Book</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times; font-size: medium; "&gt;&lt;dt&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial, serif;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;The Author to Her Book&lt;/i&gt; by Anne Bradstreet&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/dt&gt;&lt;dt&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial, serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/dt&gt;&lt;dt&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Thou ill-formed offspring of my feeble brain,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/dt&gt;&lt;dt&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Who after birth did'st by my side remain,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/dt&gt;&lt;dt&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Till snatched from thence by friends, less wise than true,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/dt&gt;&lt;dt&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Who thee abroad exposed to public view;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/dt&gt;&lt;dt&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Made thee in rags, halting, to the press to trudge,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/dt&gt;&lt;dt&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Where errors were not lessened, all may judge.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/dt&gt;&lt;dt&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;At thy return my blushing was not small,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/dt&gt;&lt;dt&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;My rambling brat (in print) should mother call;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/dt&gt;&lt;dt&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;I cast thee by as one unfit for light,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/dt&gt;&lt;dt&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Thy visage was so irksome in my sight;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/dt&gt;&lt;dt&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Yet being mine own, at length affection would&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/dt&gt;&lt;dt&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Thy blemishes amend, of so I could:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/dt&gt;&lt;dt&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;I washed thy face, but more defects I saw,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/dt&gt;&lt;dt&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;And rubbing off a spot, still made a flaw.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/dt&gt;&lt;dt&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;I stretched thy joints to make thee even feet,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/dt&gt;&lt;dt&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Yet still thou run'st more hobbling then is meet;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/dt&gt;&lt;dt&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;In better dress to trim thee was my mind,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/dt&gt;&lt;dt&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;But nought save homespun cloth in the house I find.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/dt&gt;&lt;dt&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;In this array, 'mongst Vulgars may'st thou roam;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/dt&gt;&lt;dt&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;In critics' hands, beware thou dost not come;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/dt&gt;&lt;dt&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;And take thy way where yet thou art not known,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/dt&gt;&lt;dt&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;If for thy Father asked, say, thou had'st none;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/dt&gt;&lt;dt&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;And for thy Mother, she alas is poor,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/dt&gt;&lt;dt&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Which caused her thus to send thee out of door.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/dt&gt;&lt;dt&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial, serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/dt&gt;&lt;dt&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial, serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;One thing that I liked about this poem was how she described her poem and how she basically told a story through the poem. She thought her book was very bad, and she tried to correct things, but the more she corrected the more flaws she saw in her writing.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/dt&gt;&lt;dt&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial, serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;There wasn't anything in the poem that I didn't really enjoy. I liked pretty much everything about this poem, and also the way the author used her metaphors wisely&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/dt&gt;&lt;dt&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial, serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;One thing that confused me about this poem was the use of older words. The author of this poem was alive in the 17th Century, so the language is a lot different from today, and this&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/dt&gt;&lt;dt&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial, serif; "&gt;confused me a little bit.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/dt&gt;&lt;dt&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial, serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/dt&gt;&lt;dt&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial, serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;The main literary device used in this poem is the use of metaphors. One of the metaphors that I really liked, and thought was pretty neat how she used it was, " washed thy face, but more defects I saw, and rubbing off a spot, still made a flaw." This was very interesting to me and I really liked it because the more and more the author corrected things, the more flaws she saw in her writing. The way she used this metaphor was very smart.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/dt&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/447536433388173117-2723849070546840426?l=kpeabody.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kpeabody.blogspot.com/feeds/2723849070546840426/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://kpeabody.blogspot.com/2010/01/author-to-her-book.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/447536433388173117/posts/default/2723849070546840426'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/447536433388173117/posts/default/2723849070546840426'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kpeabody.blogspot.com/2010/01/author-to-her-book.html' title='The Author to Her Book'/><author><name>KPeabody</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09636827856715400039</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='15' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_mlzjdXPn7jY/S1kd3kWcDfI/AAAAAAAAAAM/LlV_JBzgpS8/S220/Picture+1.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-447536433388173117.post-2334260740786441600</id><published>2010-01-21T17:41:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-21T19:31:04.476-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Metaphors</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;Metaphors&lt;/i&gt; by Sylvia Plath&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana, serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana, serif;"&gt;I'm a riddle in nine syllables,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana, serif;"&gt;An elephant, a ponderous house,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana, serif;"&gt;A melon strolling on two tendrils.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana, serif;"&gt;O red fruit, ivory, fine timbers!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana, serif;"&gt;This loaf's big with its yeasty rising.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana, serif;"&gt;Money's new-minted in this fat purse.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana, serif;"&gt;I'm a means, a stage, a cow in calf.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana, serif;"&gt;I've eaten a bag of green apples,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana, serif;"&gt;Boarded the train there's no getting off.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana, serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana, serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;One thing that I liked about this poem was the fact that each line had nine syllables in it, and how she put the words together to achieve this.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana, serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;One thing that I did not like about this poem was all of the references that the author used in the poem. She referred to herself as many different things, and that made it difficult to actually figure out what she was talking about.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana, serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;One thing that confused me about the poem was the structure of how the poem was worded. Many of the sayings in the lines confused me and it was hard to understand what the author was talking about in the poem.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana, serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana, serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;The main literary device in this passage is the use of metaphors. A metaphor is an analogy between two objects or ideas, conveyed by the use of a word instead of another. A prime example of a metaphor in this poem is, "A melon strolling on two tendrils." Melons do not walk, so therefore this is an example of a metaphor used throughout this poem.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/447536433388173117-2334260740786441600?l=kpeabody.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kpeabody.blogspot.com/feeds/2334260740786441600/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://kpeabody.blogspot.com/2010/01/metaphors.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/447536433388173117/posts/default/2334260740786441600'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/447536433388173117/posts/default/2334260740786441600'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kpeabody.blogspot.com/2010/01/metaphors.html' title='Metaphors'/><author><name>KPeabody</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09636827856715400039</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='15' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_mlzjdXPn7jY/S1kd3kWcDfI/AAAAAAAAAAM/LlV_JBzgpS8/S220/Picture+1.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
