Crossing the Brooklyn Ferry By Walt Witmen

In this poem Walt asks a question: why do we all go back up to the rail on the ferry and look at the water flowing and the sun as hits the seagulls and why do all the generations after him go back to that same spot? He didnt anticipate the building of the Brooklyn bridge or the industrial revelation he thought that every thing would stay the same as it was back then that Brooklyn would still be like the country very hilly and grassy, and that manhattan would still be verry manufactured, and that everything with years on to go would still cross over the river by ferry. Even tough all this has changed we all still go back to that same spot, we all lean over the rail, we all look at the water as the tip of the ferry breakers through every wave, we still look at the seagulls and how the sunlight hits them and how it showes the golen side where the hits them and then the shadow casted apon the water. And how that 50 years, 100 years, and hundreds of years from then that other will see what he saw and that we all wonder what he wandered.

A Painter on a planet of blind people. By Michael Disends

This story is all about one court handball.  Yes,  I know how hard that is to believe but apparently it was a game that was very popular and taken very seriously in parts of Brooklyn.  This story is set in Coney Island.  It talks about the old time players,  the people who place bets on the games.   There is even a hall of fame for handball.  The story describes the strategies in handball, like in any sport.  It also describes the borough of Brooklyn and all the different people who live there.  It is the story of one player Joe Durso who is at the top of the game.  But he is getting old.  Joe concludes at the end of the story that  "this game is all about I'm better that you, its not like painting where you're trying to communicate some principal.  It's just im better than you...".  In this statement, Joe is stating that the game he has spent so much of life perfecting is "childish" and is an "ego confrontation".

Revised two person poem

I can't stand where I live.
I get babied and will never know how to fend for myself.
I have two jobs and i can't afford to go to school, i will never be educated.


School
I wish I didn't have to go to school,  everyone always asks me for money or if I can get them concert tickets, and my parents pay my teachers to give me good grades and all I get to do is sit down and relax they even make me watch t.v. to make sure i have a good time but I just want to be treated normally.
I wish I could go to school,  I've heard its awful but learning sounds like fun.


Parents
I wish my parents would let me live my life instead of cradling over me every minute
of the day.
I wish I had parents mine died, killed by Americans.


Family
I wish I wasn't an only child.  I wish I had some one to fight with every day and hate my guts.
I am forced to live with my aunt, my ten cousins, my two brothers and my four sisters and I'm the oldest we share one roof which is really just the sky.


I wish I could be normal.

A great poem

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim
Because it was grassy and wanted wear,
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I marked the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way
I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I,
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.


Robert Frost

Submitted Date :  Friday, January 03, 2003
Submitted Date :  Thursday, May 15, 2008
This poem by Robert Frost is about being different and pealing away from the group, or as he puts it, "I take the road less traveled by". Frost finds himself having to decide between two paths in life. He decides that he will take the path that most have not. By doing this he is creating his own individuality. Like that saying "it's not the destination, but the journey that counts." This poem is also, saying that its alright to be different. He is creating his own life not following anyone else, to be unique.

You Have to Stop This. By Pseudonymous Bosch

This is the fourth book in Pseudonymous Bosch's crazy series. This book starts in 1212 bc. The books in his collection are fiction and hold a diffrent mystery in the each book. You never really have a fully developed character. All you have is, for instance Cass, a name. You have to develop the character youself which helps keep you in the book and lets you have a creative part in it. It is like you have a pre-finished book and all you need are the characters. It is kinda like that game that we did with Grace from MOMA where you got a sheet from a magazine and cut it. You cut out a body part and fold the paper over so that no one could see what you put, but you left a litte hint, kinda like that. The reason it's like that is that you can create your own character and let your a imagination run free.