Sonnet

Life

Life, oh darling life, how you fill my eyes,
With your sweet sight every darkened morning.
The forth coming sun ignites the pale skies.
Flee! Feared beings, quoth the bright orb, warning.

With exclaiming pleasure from bed I rise.
Smiling faces dot the peace ridden Earth.
And I, oh so hoping I, search for ties,
To tether myself down shaking with mirth.

Lovers touch, pray grasp mine. We lovingly
exchange crimson lips. Gleeful sheets await
worn hips. And we, a pair, found pulled closely
near. Passion pulsing will never abate.

You, I, or better we, tightly knit lay.
Two hearts same'ly beat having scant delay.

Bibliography

"The Sonnet is a Versatile of Fourteen Lines." Literature: An Introduction to Reading and Writing. Ed. Edger V. Roberts. 9th ed. New York: Pearson, 2009. 900. Print.

A Poem

The Popping of the Midnight Flowers

Oh, the popping of the midnight flowers.
How we hunt, and dine towards that hour.
Finding reckless pleasure in those quiet moments of power.

We shall dance and sing, and romp,
well into the rain.
We will wash in sultry drops of pitter-patter.
And as our frames are pulsing/gyrating
we smash each mirror,
throwing fists with blazing shatter.

Poetry

Poetry, to me, is a means to communicate meaning in a way that is both symphonic and accessible. Poetry is written music, where within its words there is a sublime beat that permeates your being. It gives way to feeling that may be interpreted in so many various ways, that you and I, upon reading the same poem, may come to the conclusion that we both took individual feeling from the work.
I believe that for poetry to be able to preform such duties as mentioned as mentioned above, it has to be written with true feeling and true meaning intended. Synthetic emotion is easily found by readers and will severely damage the value of both the poem and of the author.
There are so many formats poetry may be written in. Of course, there is the traditional, and amateurish, ab,ab,ab,ab, but then there is also rhyme which is so much more complex, and I feel takes a larger form of ability and concentration to write. There is also free verse, which may have no rhymes at all, and I actually prefer those.
My favorite form of poetry is of the transcendentalist movement which includes some of my favorite poets: Whitman, Dickinson, and Emerson. Poetry here began to significantly deviate from the social norms, and the accepted topics of writing. I believe this movement carried to the contemporary poets of the 1960's and 70's which gave way to another author which I hold in high esteem, Anne Sexton. Her confessional form of poetry challenges us to examine controversial topics, but written in a way that makes them beautiful. And that is what I believe the role of the poet is, to glamorize the ugly, and to contradict and critique society's norms.

Ms. Emily Bates

There are a great many similarities between Mr. Norman Bates, and Ms. Emily from "A rose for Emily." Of course the obvious being, the obsession with corpses. Norman's fascination with his mother's body, and Emily's with Homer Barron's.

For those that may have never seen the movie Psycho, Norman Bates is a psychopathic owner of a lone motel. Norman mummified his mother's body, and then proceeded to kill a traveling woman unlucky enough to stop at the motel. Norman is also a transvestite, because he kills the woman while dressed as his mother. Emily, herself, takes a slightly different approach. She participates in necrophilia, the sexual attraction to corpses, unlike Norman.

Emily and Norman are the same in the respect that they both encounter with feelings of abandonment. Norman by his domineering mother, and Emily by her controlling father. Norman killing those who threatened to come between mother and son and that now mother had taken over Norman's mind completely. And Emily because she refuses to be left alone again, and in her deranged mind cannot comprehend that Homer doesn't love her.

These two characters are so very interesting to watch and read, mostly because they are acted and written so well. Also, America seems to have a form of fascination with serial killers, or those that kill in general.

My Symapthies to Elisa.

My sympathies do travel to Mrs. Elisa Allen. Humble gardener, married to romantically impotent farmer Henry Allen. On a particular winter afternoon Mrs. Allen is tempted by a another man. Not such that any true indiscretion is made by our gentleman, but nonetheless an encounter that strikes deeply with Elisa.

We see this a lot, a woman, who hasn't much wrong with her, feels impulsive whenever a man (no matter how grotesquely deformed) pays her a compliment simply because her husband does not possess the means to correctly satisfy her any longer. I feel sorry for men, and women like Elisa because boredom seems a worse torture than abuse. For example, in a boring relationship you can't tell if they love you or not, but in an abusive one you know they love you because they hit you, or so I hear.

Those types of flings, such as the one Mrs. Allen encountered, do not usually end well. Or end at all. For no relationship can be manifested out of nothing more than a slight compliment, with the complimenting party meaning nothing more than that compliment. So perhaps it seemed fitting that the gentlemen abandoned Elisa's flowers on the side of the road, while she and Mr. Allen embarked on a dinner date, with the bulk of the conversation most likely containing phrases like "Oh, yes the weather is fine today."

The Musicality of Sweeney Todd

Sweeney Todd belongs to an odd place in the world of cinema. It is a melodramatic, dark comedic, musical. Johnny Depp plays Todd, a cutthroat barber hell bent on revenge, for the supposed death of his wife, and kidnapping of his daughter Johanna. I am quite fond of this film, because it challenges the stomachs of it's most hardened viewers, and presents an even greater challenge to the mental strength of it's more squeamish victims.

For this particular version of Mr. Todd's escapades, I must say that I do not care for the musical stylings of the actor chosen to preform them. Or perhaps to go even further, I believe the spontaneous outbursts of song, to be quite unnecessary. It also tends to confuse the viewer when those who are singing have an incredibly thick English accent. Maybe Mr. Todd, and Mrs. Lovett would benefit from a lesson instructing them on the ways of the Queen's English. Which, I may guarantee, is easier, and far better sounding, to understand than that horrid West End drawl.

But all in all, I do agree with the film rating website Rotten Tomatoes rating of an 81. Sweeney Todd has his faults, but that is obvious now since watching him. For it is very hard to murder teens amount of people, and do it fashionably.

“To you, your father should be as a god.”

Not to question his lordship Theseus, king of Athens, but I most humbly disagree. He said this to the reluctant Hermia who insists, to her father's great dismay, on marrying a man he doth not approve. Like most rebellious teenagers, or star crossed lovers, Hermia and Lysander are determined to find a way that they may ride off together into the sunset while Egeus suffers a mental breakdown. I am quite sure that many of us at one time or another have caused mommy and daddy to die a little inside because of our choices. But in the end I think parents learn to love and accept us, because we get to choose their nursing home.

A Criticism of Grant's performance in Arsenic and Old Lance.

Cary Grant's performance in the 1944 film Arsenic and Old Lace, is a bit of a rarity. Not such that the acting was immaculate, or his suit of any special make. A rarity of sorts, because when I picture Cary's work, I see him as John Robie, a notorious jewel thief, in Alfred Hitchcock's To Catch a Thief. Also in Alfred's North by Northwest. Where in each he plays a strong male lead, daring someone to take the screen away from him. But in Arsenic and Old Lace, we see Cary running widely about, in a manner that may only be defined as; a chicken who has just lost his head. Perhaps Mortimer could have taken a few Valiums half way through, you know, just to level him out a little.




A little later in Cary's career he did produce a comedic role, which I feel to be one of kind. The role to which I am referring, is when Cary played French army captain Henri Rochard, in I Was a Male War Bride. Where "Captain Henri Rochard is a French officer assigned to work with Lieut. Catherine Gates. Through a wacky series of misadventures, they fall in love and marry. When the war ends, Capt. Rochard tries to return to America with the other female war brides. Zany gender-confusing antics follow."- IMDB. I strongly encourage you to witness how funny this film is.




Cary Grant was ranked the second greatest male star of all time by the American Film Institute. Having contributed his distinctive Mid-Atlantic accent, to 72 films, earning him two nominations for the best actor oscar, and also five Golden Globe nominations. Being denied the win on all occasions, he received an honorary award at the 42nd Academy Awards. "For his unique mastery of the art of screen acting with the respect and affection of his colleagues." In the end I believe we can all come to the same consensus: Cary Grant has given innumerable jems to the world of cinema, and touched many hearts along the way.

Works Cited

Arsenic and Old Lace. Dir- Frank Capra, 1944 o.r.d. Warner Brothers. Screenplay- Julius J and Philip G Epstien. DVD 2000