All Quiet on the Western Front- Writing Response #3

Author's Note: I wrote this piece about the miracle of life. The fact that there are so many evils in the world that appear to be "out to get us" makes life an adventure. The obstacles of evil try to slow us down but we have to persevere. We have to appreciate what is given and enjoy every moment. Enjoy(:

Life is a beautiful miracle—from trees to grass, from animals to people, from birth to death. We’re always told to appreciate what we have, because everything is a gift. After all, life is an once-in-a-lifetime adventure. But what’s the proof of this? Think about the numerous ways there are to die. So many people die every day, it’s a miracle we’re still alive. Nothing is guaranteed with our health, and life is a privilege, not a right. At any moment, the precious present of life can be snatched from our possession. All we can do is appreciate the time we have and take advantage of the memories we create. Avoid the bad, appreciate the good. If we don’t become tempted to the evil we could be a world of beautiful people. Miracles surround us constantly, and sometimes, we must take a step back and appreciate the fact that we are simply still alive.


“But had he not abandoned himself to the impulse he would now be a heap of mangled flesh.”

All Quiet on the Western Front- Writing Response #3

Author’s Note: I was inspired by the idea of growing up. These men had to age so quickly to be mature enough to handle war, yet even then, they still aren’t prepared or manly enough. This poem shows how some things from our childhood remain important for the rest of our lives, just like how the men are always playing games or teasing each other.
*I tried to work on my word choice and use kind of a driving/travelling theme for the diction in the piece, representing life’s never ending journey*

Adulthood Journey
Bigger, older, up,
Growing in every way.
Distancing our childhood,
Keeping just the memories.

Leaving behind innocence,
Traveling to experience.
Disregarding games and dolls,
Packing up our morals.

Some things carry no importance,
No need to remember.
Cartoons, toys and sassiness,
Depart us in a year.

Others we will never lose,
Never leave our minds.
Manners, thanks and happiness,
Will follow us forever.

The small belongings from our trip
These pieces we will carry,
Appear to be insignificant,
But eventually, construct our world.

All Quiet on the Western Front- Writing Response #2

Imagine having a peaceful life with family, friends, and a job—a content life. Now picture this situation—shooting people with snipers, bombarding people with bombs, mutilating people with machine guns. If this was the modification that had to be made, minds would go mad. In All Quiet on the Western Front, the author, Erich Remarque, through descriptive syntax, provides the idea that war is an interruption to the lives of these men.

These men—although their age proves them to be more like boys—were living normal lives, until the day they were drafted to the war. Paul had the beginning of a poem written before he was drafted. He said, “Many an evening I have worked over them—we all did something of the kind—but that has become so unreal to me I cannot comprehend it any more. Our early life is cut off from the moment we came here, and that without our lifting a hand.” Writing a poem is such a simple task, yet Paul can’t even take this with him to war. The way Remarque wrote this sentence is very explanatory and straightforward. With this sentence structure, it is easy for the reader to understand the terrors of leaving a typical life and entering the whole new world of combat.

All Quiet on the Western Front- Writing Response #1

Throughout history, women have been recognized as weaker, less significant, and even powerless compared to men. Rights were given to women after they fought for them, whereas with men, the rights were obvious and natural. Even in today’s society, although men and women are equal, being called a “girl” is not a compliment. In All Quiet on the Western Front, this man versus woman idea is becoming a motif.

In the first two chapters of the novel, a couple instances have appeared in which a man is called a girl and it is evidently not meant to be a flattering remark. The narrator of the story, Paul, makes a comment about his friend; “[Kemmerich] couldn't stand cigarettes. His skin was very white; he had something of the girl about him.” There is something unique about Kemmerich, and for this, he gains a reputation as a girl, losing his manliness. Our society has convinced us all that everyone is equal; however, this is obviously not true when calling someone a girl is an insult. Women have gained many important rights, but until the walls are completely broken down, a “girl” will still be known as a pathetic and fragile creature.

World War 1 Diary Entry

Diary,
When I was drafted to be a part of World War 1, never did I expect to spend my time
living—actually, it cannot even be called that—surviving, in a hole in the
ground. These trenches that we had to dig ourselves are our homes for the
entire time we have to take part in this horrendous fight. The noise that
surrounds us is deafening, and it would be of no surprise to me if I return
home deaf. That is, if I return home. The conditions of this hole are exactly
what you would expect—filthy, cold, and very uncomfortable. The amount of rats
and repulsive animals are overwhelming. These rats consume the eyes and livers
of human bodies and dash over our faces as we attempted to get some sleep. With
the sickening animals, thunderous noises, and unbearable cold, sleep is very
rare. It is not a life worth living; I’m very close to climbing the towering
walls of this trench and stepping foot on “No Man’s Land” and ending my life. The
only thing stopping me is my hope that I can leave this torturous fight and
return home to my beautiful family. They mean the world to me and leaving them
was the hardest thing a man could have to do. My worst fear is that I will
never see them again—my wife’s gorgeous face, my son’s handsome features, or my
daughter’s sweet cheeks. Well now my hand is growing cold due to the lack of
warmth in this trench, so I must go. Who knows if I shall write again.
- John Gohlke

Jekyll and Hyde #3

Author's Note: I chose to write about how we can become enslaved in our responsibilities, but that is not always a bad thing. Sometimes we can help ourselves, or even others, by completing the tasks that should be done. I was inspired by Lanyon's dedication to his responsibilities from Jekyll. I don't think the poem I wrote sounds that sophisticated, but I think it gets my point across and I like how it turned out. Have fun reading(:

Determining Factor

A bright sunny day,

Just time spent the usual way.

One more hour by the pool,

Simply for kids to stay cool.

Watching from a distance,

There only for assistance.

Merely one more hour,

Til I can head to the shower.

Two heads bobbing in the deep end,

Just a boy and his best friend.

Every day they are here again,

For the whole summer it has been.

Glancing to my magazine,

Just slightly away from the scene.

The latest gossip and advice,

But I paid an awful price.

Flailing arms catch my eye,

Looks like my turn to be the good guy.

Racing thoughts fill my mind,

As a little boy gasping is what I find.

Now’s the time to show what I’ve learned,

My mind however, is just concerned.

Responsibility flooding my brain,

Feelings I simply cannot explain.

Knowing what I had to do,

I jumped down from my chair and then, just flew.

With confidence, I saved this boy,

Feelings overwhelmed me; feelings of joy.

Making decisions important to some,

Realizing that when called I would come.

I do what is asked,

And will follow my past.

I saved the life of someone’s son

Simply doing what had to be done.

Sometimes I feel I am enslaved,

But what a reward to save the hand that waved.

Jekyll and Hyde #2

Author's Note: This is just me experimenting with creative writing. I wanted to write about fire and the significance it has in the story of Jekyll and Hyde. I thought about how Hyde was created; he was probably just an idea of Jekyll's and wasn't supposed to get so serious. I also thought that now that Jekyll is rid of Hyde he should emerge even stronger.
One thing I tried with this is kind of creating two poems and putting them together. So if you read lines 1, 3, 5, and so on, it will be Fire. Lines 2, 4, 6, and so on, will be Evil Within Us. And if you read it all at once, it's just one poem with deeper thoughts every other line.
I don't know how smooth this will sound to anyone besides me, but I hope you enjoy the poem!

Fire
Evil Within Us

Starts with a spark,
A revelation of evil.
A minute matter that encourages a small idea to become reality,
An opportunity to expect the unexpected.

Engulfs everything it can reach,
Nothing can cloud it's lights.
Ashes present an unrecognizable world,
Constantly fighting to reach the outside.

Ends in destruction,
Such sort of evil was once unbelievable.
Everything once known, now vanished,
A mysterious type of gift.

Finishes as proof,
Although one may not realize.
Fire might damage us,
In the end though, we're only stronger.