FROM THE SUN TO MY LOVE

Two years have passed since you have left me. Now here I am, in my garden alone, staring at the sun with a pen in my hand trying to write something in my journal. Then I feel something that touches my skin, something that is above me and I start to write: I am looking at a beautiful thing that warms up my heart, with its shinny rays that touch my hands softly and makes them warmer. In the same way he used to do in those winter days, he warmed my body up with his kisses and tightly hugges, he was all for me, he was my shinny sun above the sky that shone my life.
Since I´ve began writting ,some minutes have passed and I realize that I started writting about this beautiful sun above me and I ended up writting about him, about my great and unforgetable love. But I konw that although he left me, this beautiful sun will warm my life for ever.

ANTHOLOGY- 15th Century Poem

Love Is A Great Thing

Love is a great thing, yea, a great and thorough good.
By itself it makes that which is heavy light;
and it bears evenly all that is uneven.
It carries a burden which is no burden;
it will not be kept back by anything low and mean;
It desires to be free from all wordly affections,
and not to be entangled by any outward prosperity,
or by any adversity subdued.
Love feels no burden, thinks nothing of trouble,
attempts what is above its strength,
pleads no excuse of impossibility.
It is therefore able to undertake all things,
and it completes many things and warrants them to take effect,
where he who does not love would faint and lie down.
Though weary, it is not tired;
though pressed it is not straightened;
though alarmed, it is not confounded;
but as a living flame it forces itself upwards and securely passes through all.
Love is active and sincere, courageous, patient, faithful, prudent, and manly.

Thomas A Kempis

*LOVE....what a beautiful feeling !... the most important thing in our lives, what makes us going on.... I wonder what will happend to us if we lack of such a wonderful feeling... but I believe that as long as our heart beats love will be eternal....I chose this poem because I believe that the author chose lovely words to describe what love means. *

ANTHOLOGY- 18th Century poem

The Land of Dreams

Awake, awake my little Boy!

Thou wast thy Mother's only joy:

Why dost thou weep in thy gentle sleep?

Awake! thy Father does thee keep.

"O, what land is the Land of Dreams?

What are its mountains, and what are its streams?

O Father, I saw my Mother there,

Among the lillies by waters fair.

Among the lambs clothed in white

She walked with her Thomas in sweet delight.

I wept for joy, like a dove I mourn -

O when shall I return again?

" Dear child, I also by pleasant streams

Have wandered all night in the Land of Dreams;

But though calm and warm the waters wide,

I could not get to the other side.

"Father, O Father, what do we here,

In this land of unbelief and fear?

The Land of Dreams is better far

Above the light of the Morning Star."

Poem by William

Blake

How beautiful are dreams! they can take you everywhere, you can meet the angels, you can meet that person that is far away from you. We can touch the sky and even fly!, there we can feel our souls!.

ANTHOLOGY

IF
If you can keep your head when all about you

Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,If you can trust yourself when

all men doubt you,

But make allowance for their doubting too;If you can wait and not be

tired by waiting,

Or being lied about, don't deal in lies,Or being hated don't give way

to hating,

And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise:If you can dream—and

not make dreams your master;

If you can think—and not make thoughts your aim;If you can meet

with Triumph and Disaster

And treat those two impostors just the same;If you can bear to hear

the truth you've spoken

Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,Or watch the things you

gave your life to, broken,

and stoop and build 'em up with worn-out tools:If you can make one

heap of all your winnings

And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,And lose, and start again at

your beginnings

And never breathe a word about your loss;If you can force your heart

and nerve and sinew

To serve your turn long after they are gone,And so hold on when

there is nothing in you

Except the Will which says to them: "Hold on!"If you can talk with

crowds and keep your virtue,

Or walk with Kings—nor lose the common touch,If neither foes nor

loving friends can hurt you,

If all men count with you, but none too much;If you can fill the

unforgiving minute

With sixty seconds' worth of distance run,Yours is the Earth and

everything that's in it,

And—which is more—you'll be a Man, my son!

Rudyard Kipling

Parents, they are always there for us with their eternal love. They are always there, guiding and supporting us. I chose this poem because it reminds me of my father, his advices, his worries about me and the most important thing his love for me that will live inside me for ever.

ANTHOLOGY- The image Poem

BUTTERFLY

She moves up and down,
she moves from side to side.
She has large wings,
she flies, she flies.

She could hypnotizes you,
she has beautiful colours,
she flies, she flies.

She jumps from flower to flower,
you can confuse her with the rainbow,
she flies, she flies.

ANTHOLOGY- The list Poem

The memories of my childhood

My childhood is in my mind.
Shinny sun,
gentle breeze,
blue sky,
big garden,
running feet,
heap of toys,
loud screams,
salty tears,
tight hugs,
blushy cheeks,
my childhood is in my mind.

ANTHOLOGY - The I am from Poem

I am from the wet side of the country.

I am daugther of seeds, wheat and soil.

I believe in the fertility of the soil,

I love seeing the crops growing.

I dream of the prosperity of my country.

I am from the wet side of the country.

The Curse by Authur C. Clarke

“Good frend for lesves sake forbeare,
To digg the dvst encloased heare
Blest be ye man yt spares thes Stones,
Avon cvrst be he yt moves my bones”.


I think that this story wants to show us that an author will be alive for ever through his work. Despite his death, Shakespeare will remain alive through literature.
Another massage that I can take into account is that the destruction of Shakespeare´ s grave stone exemplifies the destruction of our thoughts, the destruction of our inner self.

Tales in the Sun by Neil Gaiman

I think that “Tales in the sun” is a lovely love story between Queen Nada and The Loard of the Dreams called Kai´ckul. But their love is an impossible one, as mortals don´t marry the endless.
The distruction of the city of glass makes treir love impossible since this event makes Nada feels herself guilty.
Although the Loard Kai´clul promisses her infinite love and to be the Queen of his dream World, she refuses this true love.
I believe that this story is a good example of the way we sacrifice ourselves for love, but not any kind of love a real one, the one that fills our heart with joy, the one that Could live inside us forever, the one that makes us free.

STARRY, STARRY NIGHT by Don McLean

Through this poem and the song, I can sense that despite his colourless life, Vincent Van Goh makes his paintings full of colours and images.
I think that the massage that I can get is that art, colours, images, can make us free, it can make us inmerse in a colourful World despite our disgusts and anger.

Starry, starry night.
Paint your palette blue and grey,
Look out on a summer's day,
With eyes that know the darkness in my soul.
Shadows on the hills,
Sketch the trees and the daffodils,
Catch the breeze and the winter chills,
In colors on the snowy linen land.

Now I understand what you tried to say to me,
How you suffered for your sanity,
How you tried to set them free.
They would not listen, they did not know how.
Perhaps they'll listen now.


Starry, starry night.
Flaming flowers that brightly blaze,
Swirling clouds in violet haze,
Reflect in Vincent's eyes of china blue.
Colors changing hue, morning fields of amber grain,
Weathered faces lined in pain,
Are soothed beneath the artist's loving hand.

Now I understand what you tried to say to me,
How you suffered for your sanity,
How you tried to set them free.
They would not listen, they did not know how.
Perhaps they'll listen now.

For they could not love you,
But still your love was true.
And when no hope was left in sight
On that starry, starry night,
You took your life, as lovers often do.
But I could have told you, Vincent,
This world was never meant for one
As beautiful as you.

Starry, starry night.
Portraits hung in empty halls,
Frameless head on nameless walls,
With eyes that watch the world and can't forget.
Like the strangers that you've met,
The ragged men in the ragged clothes,
The silver thorn of bloody rose,
Lie crushed and broken on the virgin snow.

Now I think I know what you tried to say to me,
How you suffered for your sanity,
How you tried to set them free.
They would not listen, they're not listening still.
Perhaps they never will...

Boule de Suif by Guy de Maupassant

I think that this story is a good example of hypocrasy.
Hypocrasy is shown at the very beginning of the story, when Boule the Suif is in the stagecoach with other occupants (each of whom represents a different social class). Despite the fact that she is discriminated by them, she glady shares her picnic basket with the hungry occupants of the coach. But at the end of the story, when she has no food for the rest of the journy, the others occupants refuse to share their food with her.

In addiction, another part of the story that depicts hypocrasy, is when they persuade her to sleep with the German officer, so that they can continue with the journy, and arguing that it is for the good of the country and it is not moraly wrong to sleep with him, when finally she sleeps with him, they threw a party without her.
To concluye, I think that the end of the story is very shocking. Despite the fact that she set them free, they treat her with indifference, they treat her like an object, what´s more like a thing.

"SOME COLOUR IN OUR LIVES"

I think that the class that we had with the analysis of the gaps in the story of “The colourful World of Calum MaCall” was amazing!, all of us made wonderful presentations. Here is ours: (Maricel, Celeste and me)



"Life is what happens to you, when you are busy making other plans." - John Lennon





STORY:

An American businessman took a vacation to a small coastal Mexican village on doctor’s orders. Unable to sleep after an urgent phone call from the office the first morning, he walked out to the pier to clear his head. A small boat with just one fisherman had docked, and inside the boat were several large yellow fin tuna. The American complimented the Mexican on the quality of his fish.



“How long did it take you to catch them?” the American asked.

“Only a little while,” the Mexican replied in surprisingly good English.

“Why don’t you stay out longer and catch more fish?” the American then asked.

“I have enough to support my family and give a few to friends,” the Mexican said as he unloaded them into a basket.

“But…What do you do with the rest of your time?”

The Mexican looked up and smiled. “I sleep late, fish a little, play with my children, take siesta with my wife, Julia and stroll into the village each evening, where I sip wine and play guitar with my amigos. I have a full and busy life, senor.”


The American laughed and stood tall. “Sir, I’m a Harvard M.B.A. and I can help you. You should spend more time fishing, and with the proceeds, buy a bigger boat. In no time, you could buy several boats with the increased haul. Eventually, you would have a fleet of fishing boats.”

He continued, “Instead of selling your catch to a middleman, you would sell directly to the consumers, eventually opening your own cannery. You would control the product, processing, and distribution. You would need to leave this small coastal fishing village, of course move to Mexico City, then to Los Angeles, and eventually New York City, where you could run your expanding enterprise with proper management.”

The Mexican fisherman asked, “But senor, how long will all this take?”

To which the American replied, “15-20 years. 25 tops.”

“But what then, senor?”

The American laughed and said, “That’s the best part. When the time is right, you would announce an IPO and sell your company stock to the public and become very rich. You would make millions.”

“Millions, senor? Then what?”

“Then you would retire and move to a small coastal fishing village, where you would sleep late, fish a little, play with your kids, take siesta with your wife, and stroll to the village in the evenings, where you could sip wine and play guitar with your amigos…”

THE END

We couldn´t find a better example than this story to exemplify our Choice for the gap in the story of Calum Macall.
The gap that we chose is “The loss of innosence” and the part of the story that we chose for this gap is:
“Years later, Callum married and had children of his own. One day his baby son pointed at the sky and gurgled with pleasure. Calum followed the pointed finger, but Could see nothing particularly special up there- nothing that was visible to him, anyway”…….
After reading this, we realizad that grown ups´ lives are ate-up by their ambitious, by the “Rat Race”, for an endless and pointless pursuit. We as people living in this era, become rats of the modern city, running around a wheel, making a lot of noise, dumping into each other but achiving nothing.
We have no dreams, no hopes, no colours in our lives, just days, hours, minutes. We submerge our dreams into the Soutine of our lives.
So…. Are we Hamsters?...... Maybe it is time to get off the wheel and consider our options.

“By working faithfully eight hours a day, you may eventually get to be a boss and work twelve hours a day.” - Robert Frost

WHAT IS READING AND WRITTING?

I BELIEVE READING MAKES US DISCOVER NEW WORLDS, SENSE DIFFERENT FEELINGS. WHEN WE READ, WE FILL OUR SOULS, WE ENLARGE OUR KNOWLEDGE. WHAT´S MORE, WE ARE INMERSED IN A MAGIC WORLD FULL OF SENSES AND DESCRIPTIVE IMAGES.
I NOTICED, THAT WHENEVER I READ SOMETHING OR WHEN I am BEING READ, I ALWAYS FIND MYSELF IN A COMFORTABLE PLACE, FOR EXAMPLE BESIDE THE FIREPLACE, IN MY GARDEN OR EVEN BESIDE THE FLICKING OF A CANDLE BUT COMFORTABLE ANYWAY.

WHEN WE WRITE, WE GIVE OUR SOULS TO THE REST OF THE WORDL, THERE ARE NOT BOUNDARIES. WE SAY WHO AND HOW WE ARE. IN ADDICTION, WE CAN SHOW OUR FEELINGS, OUR THOUGHTS, OUR EMOTIONS. WHENEVER WE WRITE, WE GIVE THE pWORLD ONE PART OF OURSELVES.
I THINK THAT THE TWO OF THEM GO HAND IN HAND AND THEY ARE ESSENTIAL FOR OUR LIVES, AND AS OUR TEACHER TOLD US :” WRITTING IS SKIN-DIVING AND READING IS RE-WRITTING”.