Marked Displeasure.
Apr. 12th, 2004 04:11 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
wolven7John Williams - [The Imperial March]--- So i have to read "Goblin Market," by Christina Rossetti, and then Parody it. Now, i don't know if any of you have ever read "Goblin Market," but, you see, it's 12 pages long. I've read things longer than twelve pages, for class assignments, before, no problem, so that is most certainly not the issue. The issue, here, is whether my professor wants a well-written parody, equal in length, to the original poem, or if she's looking for Schlock. Either way, her vaguary on the nature of the assignment is disturbing.
Space - [Female Of The Species]--- So, with that in mind, i'm going to write something shortish, and acerbic. And she'll damn well like it.
Feh
{5.51pm: Here:
Serpent Orchard
Reading by reading
Tales told the death and loss;
Innocence, either way, it seems,
Will turn gold to dross;
If not the cautionary tale
Of women treading in the vale,
Then songs of loss, compared to joy,
Of what happens when you know a boy,
And follow his escapements.
Through tragedian statements
Miss Rossetti was always known
To reference loss of maidenhood,
Although it remains unknown,
If she was aiming for atonement.
She lived a single family life,
With brothers ever-watchful,
Wove songs of Death's cloak's hood,
And felt the irony of bereaved pity.
Us, with her songs of life, she regaled.
Bleeding by bleeding,
Not really questioning the meritorious,
But to call into question her reasoning, here
So much covered, of death, so deadly serious,
With an irreverent tone, and subtle wit.
If dissected, you see, a layer is found
Of distaste for the place in which women are bound.
Though religious, you see,
Integrity had she,
Governing herself by God's laws, and her own,
Still an undercurrent of longing is known,
For what if the fruit of temptation she'd bit?
That's the poem. And i'm done with that.}
Space - [Female Of The Species]--- So, with that in mind, i'm going to write something shortish, and acerbic. And she'll damn well like it.
Feh
{5.51pm: Here:
Serpent Orchard
Reading by reading
Tales told the death and loss;
Innocence, either way, it seems,
Will turn gold to dross;
If not the cautionary tale
Of women treading in the vale,
Then songs of loss, compared to joy,
Of what happens when you know a boy,
And follow his escapements.
Through tragedian statements
Miss Rossetti was always known
To reference loss of maidenhood,
Although it remains unknown,
If she was aiming for atonement.
She lived a single family life,
With brothers ever-watchful,
Wove songs of Death's cloak's hood,
And felt the irony of bereaved pity.
Us, with her songs of life, she regaled.
Bleeding by bleeding,
Not really questioning the meritorious,
But to call into question her reasoning, here
So much covered, of death, so deadly serious,
With an irreverent tone, and subtle wit.
If dissected, you see, a layer is found
Of distaste for the place in which women are bound.
Though religious, you see,
Integrity had she,
Governing herself by God's laws, and her own,
Still an undercurrent of longing is known,
For what if the fruit of temptation she'd bit?
That's the poem. And i'm done with that.}
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Date: 2004-04-12 01:19 pm (UTC)no subject
Bah.
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Date: 2004-04-12 01:22 pm (UTC)no subject
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Date: 2004-04-12 01:24 pm (UTC)no subject
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Change of Seasons helps the moods... And we haven't, recently. We should fix that.