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.

Jekyll and Hyde #1

Author’s Note: Not knowing everything seemed to be a reoccurring theme in the first three chapters of Jekyll and Hyde. It always appeared as if there was a little piece of information that the characters weren’t given and had to do without. I decided to write about this topic. I feel like I could’ve made this a little longer, but I think I got my point across in how it is now. These were the quotes I was inspired from…
“…and I always mean
to see more of him…” (57).
“’I have been learning something of young Hyde’” (57).
Enjoy(:

Constantly spinning, the world rotates, taking with it oddly shaped pieces that would help solve the puzzle we are forever creating. It seems as if this powerful planet is persistently trying to hide things so we cannot piece together all of the answers to life’s questions. It’s as if there is a bigger cause, a reason we cannot easily retrieve the information we want, a motive behind the confusion, an explanation for the worry and grief we must experience.

If we were to take a step back, just to realize what we are given, we might be able to comprehend that maybe, just maybe, we are better off not knowing everything. If we knew all there is to know, nothing would interest us any longer. And as humans, excitement is what we live for. Life is better with a little unknown, a little mystery, a little discovery.

Love Comes Knocking

Author's Note: This is a short story written after reading three short stories by well known authors. It incorporates a self defense mechanism and is a story of what good comes to those who wait.


All she ever wanted was love, a true love that would provide an escape from the harsh reality of the world, that would make her a better person, and most importantly, that would change her life.

As she sat in her living room, the eerie quiet surrounded her and made her mind run wild. Everything had appeared so perfect at the beginning, as if nothing could interrupt this miraculous fantasy that had become a reality. She never imagined that anything could go so wrong or end so abruptly. Yet she always had an insecure feeling around Aaron, and while reminiscing about the old times, she realized this must have been her conscience trying to guide her.
____________________________________________________________________
She was young, searching for the answers to all of life’s questions. Like many others, she believed this would come through true love, through that one person that would change her world. She supposed she had rushed into it and never truly realized the vast amount of people that had something to offer her. Aaron seemed to be exactly what she was looking for; he was an educated man, knowledgeable about many subjects, a business man, plenty capable of supporting a family, and most significantly, a loving man, who claimed he’d love her forever. The two got to know each other quite well, and married after three years of dating.

They were a good couple, with plenty of arguments, but they always supposed that was normal. Although they both did not want to admit it, they hadn’t felt that magic spark, heard that deafening sound of love, or seen the fireworks after each kiss. It was never there, and that wasn’t either of their faults. Too quickly they forced themselves into a relationship that was built on false ground, and they became part of a self inflicted illusion.

When she and Aaron took journeys into their small town, she would see couples on the street walking together, laughing together, making memories together, and wonder why she couldn’t have something like that. One sunny afternoon, Aaron was rambling on about work like usual as they walked past a coffee shop where a young man was sitting outside reading the newspaper. There was something remarkable about him, something that made her unable to stop staring. He looked across the street and their eyes met. The world stopped—all of the noises of nature ceased, the traffic seemed to halt, Aaron’s story was put on mute. This was a new feeling, one she had never experienced before. There was a click, a spark, a bolt of lightning—something made her think twice.

It seemed as if an entire day had passed; his gaze was such a beautiful thing to be stuck in. The moment came to an end as Aaron broke her train of thoughts with a simple statement—a statement she had heard many times, yet this time something about the way he spoke was different. “It’s all up to you Sweetie, where would you like to go for dinner tonight?" asked Aaron in a false tone. So many times he had said those same words and she had believed he genuinely cared. They hit her heart like the lightning in a thunderstorm; she worried she might explode. Things had started to change between the two recently, although she had been trying to deny this. She thought this annoyance was normal and was supposed to happen with a married couple.
The days of longing for a healthier relationship dragged on and started to dissolve all her hope that true love existed. Days turned into months, months turned into a year. She was then in complete realization of her breaking heart. After thirteen months and two additional encounters with the mystery man, Aaron left her, with nothing but a bad perception of love.
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Although she had replayed the story many times in her head, it never seemed to be any easier to handle. Their love had never been real and she had lost all hope that she would ever find pure happiness. Just as the tears began to fall from her eyes, a loud knock on the door interrupted her moment of pity. In the doorway was the flower delivery man, carrying a bouquet sent from her mother. As he reached in to hand her the flowers, his face was exposed, revealing her mystery man. He appeared like rays of shining sun brightening her with an everlasting warmth. At that moment, she believed love does eventually come knocking.