Figurative Language: Personification
A. 1. The flames mocked the rescue workers. All attempts by the hot, sweaty, muscular Firemen did nothing to quell the flames as they burned the house inside out, licking through the windows as if to mock them like a school yard bully in their failure.
2. The sun tiptoed into my dream. I left the damn blinds open and have an eastern facing window, therefore I was awoken by the sunlight on my face from a really awesome dream. You were in it, and you weren't wearing much. Just kidding, that would be weird to tell you that. Pretend that didn't happen. It was totally about flying and normal weird dream stuff like that. I promise.
3. The engine groaned as we drove away. My car needs an oil change, but I'm too lazy to wait an hour for the oil to drain and then figure out the proper way of disposing of the fluids. It sounds much more poetic when groaning is involved.
B. Create examples of Personification using these nouns.(nonliving) bus, pineapple, sunset, volcano. (traits) artist, chef, mule, soldier, waiter
4. One could say after the accident, the bus was merely putting a Picassan influence on the riders inside.
5. "Who's dormant now?" demanded the volcano as it rained firey death upon the innocent inhabitants of the small Italian community.
6. The pineapple sat there in stubborn silence, refusing to allow the sponge admittance.
7. The sunset finally got my order right, a soft medley of reds and purples with a hint of stratus clouds for visual effect.
28 May, 2011
27 May, 2011
English, 111 (Metaphors)
Figurative Language: Metaphor
A. 1. That typewriter is a dinosaur. ____Typewriter_____= _Something my grandfather would find kinship with, including endearing but long winded 'back in my day' stories with morals about how he defeated the entire Red Army with nothing but an 88-key on his back and I should never disrespect older technology. It saves lives, and fends off Communism._
2. My brother is a total couch potato __Speaker's Brother___= __Raggamuffin who has failed at everything in life to date, excluding personal conquest of the DVR and consumption of flavourful starch products. He's also probably a drunken pothead, as loser brothers often are.__
3. The meal was a rock in my stomach __Food baby__= _Not as good as I thought it would be, but I ate it anyway. Might have food poisoning, but at least I'm not hungry. Worth it? We'll see come morning._
B. 4. Trixie sleeps all day long. Trixie is not a lumberjack, for she is dead to the world once the sun has risen until it sets. I bet she doesn't even cut down trees, nor wear high heels whilst not doing said chopping. Maybe she is a vampire? Here's to hoping she doesn't sparkle.
5. The cadets marched in the midday heat.The downtrodden cadets were but ghosts as they solemnly marched through the thick air with the sun beating down on their backs from above. They knew not the purpose of their journey, but acknowledged the red tinged finale which awaited them at the end of their path.
Johnson turned to the fellow on his right, a boy from Indiana. The boy glanced back, the scruff of two week's march barely growing on his cheek, with a hollow fear in his eyes. With a nod, Johnson turned back to the front, the forlorn dread of their dreary march making his heart heavy and his feet lead.
6. Her salty tears fell as she read the letter. Her salty tears were black streams of mascara cascading down her cheeks as she read the letter. Her previous exhuberance at expectation of her lover's safety now passing in the wind as her eyes absorbed his depressed nuance and hidden angst as he elaborated his consignment to death. Trixie brushed her fingers across her eyes as the liquid made her world swirl, as her mind already did with thoughts of her poor, sweet Johnson.
7. The hungry dog devoured his food. The dog was lupine in spirit as he devoured his food, pausing only to lick his chops clean of hot blood before tearing in for more. A woman's scream filled the air, joining the savage sounds of flying spittle and tearing flesh, transforming to a garggle then progressively to silence has the cunning animal sought out her throat to cut off her current avenue of escape by ending her miserable life.
8. The stars lit up the midnight sky. The stars were his beacons of hope in the midnight sky, guiding him through the torrid battlefield as they were crossed by plumes of smoke from projectiles of destruction. Tonight was a good night to die, but after departing his missive to his love, Johnson felt a swell of determination to survive this chapter to begin anew with his Angel. Brow drenched in sweat and dirt, he surged forward with his fellow cadets, a new fire lit in their souls on this clear night of battle.
A solidarity of men, fighting against the odds, their unified roar of contempt, honour, and thirst for victory surging amongst them, aiding their will to bolster the enemy back. Johnson was a warrior possessed with rage, his mind foggy with a lust to feed the earth below him with the blood of any who stood between him and his return home in Trixie's arms. The beacons above manage to break through his consciousness long enough for him to raise his eyes to them, hypnotized by their beauty with a single tear in his eye as molten lead filled the hole in his heart.
A. 1. That typewriter is a dinosaur. ____Typewriter_____= _Something my grandfather would find kinship with, including endearing but long winded 'back in my day' stories with morals about how he defeated the entire Red Army with nothing but an 88-key on his back and I should never disrespect older technology. It saves lives, and fends off Communism._
2. My brother is a total couch potato __Speaker's Brother___= __Raggamuffin who has failed at everything in life to date, excluding personal conquest of the DVR and consumption of flavourful starch products. He's also probably a drunken pothead, as loser brothers often are.__
3. The meal was a rock in my stomach __Food baby__= _Not as good as I thought it would be, but I ate it anyway. Might have food poisoning, but at least I'm not hungry. Worth it? We'll see come morning._
B. 4. Trixie sleeps all day long. Trixie is not a lumberjack, for she is dead to the world once the sun has risen until it sets. I bet she doesn't even cut down trees, nor wear high heels whilst not doing said chopping. Maybe she is a vampire? Here's to hoping she doesn't sparkle.
5. The cadets marched in the midday heat.The downtrodden cadets were but ghosts as they solemnly marched through the thick air with the sun beating down on their backs from above. They knew not the purpose of their journey, but acknowledged the red tinged finale which awaited them at the end of their path.
Johnson turned to the fellow on his right, a boy from Indiana. The boy glanced back, the scruff of two week's march barely growing on his cheek, with a hollow fear in his eyes. With a nod, Johnson turned back to the front, the forlorn dread of their dreary march making his heart heavy and his feet lead.
6. Her salty tears fell as she read the letter. Her salty tears were black streams of mascara cascading down her cheeks as she read the letter. Her previous exhuberance at expectation of her lover's safety now passing in the wind as her eyes absorbed his depressed nuance and hidden angst as he elaborated his consignment to death. Trixie brushed her fingers across her eyes as the liquid made her world swirl, as her mind already did with thoughts of her poor, sweet Johnson.
7. The hungry dog devoured his food. The dog was lupine in spirit as he devoured his food, pausing only to lick his chops clean of hot blood before tearing in for more. A woman's scream filled the air, joining the savage sounds of flying spittle and tearing flesh, transforming to a garggle then progressively to silence has the cunning animal sought out her throat to cut off her current avenue of escape by ending her miserable life.
8. The stars lit up the midnight sky. The stars were his beacons of hope in the midnight sky, guiding him through the torrid battlefield as they were crossed by plumes of smoke from projectiles of destruction. Tonight was a good night to die, but after departing his missive to his love, Johnson felt a swell of determination to survive this chapter to begin anew with his Angel. Brow drenched in sweat and dirt, he surged forward with his fellow cadets, a new fire lit in their souls on this clear night of battle.
A solidarity of men, fighting against the odds, their unified roar of contempt, honour, and thirst for victory surging amongst them, aiding their will to bolster the enemy back. Johnson was a warrior possessed with rage, his mind foggy with a lust to feed the earth below him with the blood of any who stood between him and his return home in Trixie's arms. The beacons above manage to break through his consciousness long enough for him to raise his eyes to them, hypnotized by their beauty with a single tear in his eye as molten lead filled the hole in his heart.
26 May, 2011
English 111, Journal Entry 1
Write one page, double-spaced journal about a time in your life where you truly believed something was/was not going to happen and there was a different result.
Saturday morning broke, one of the first sticky hot daybreaks of the year. An omen of what to come when contemplated, fitting of such a day of destiny. I sat on my porch, delighting in the sunrise for the final time, knowing I will miss this small pleasure in life.
The house was silent as I moved from the porch indoors, a placid smile on my face as I mounted the stairs in the foyer. I padded silently down the hall to the second door on the left. The door was already cracked, needing only a slight nudge to swing open, providing a vista of two pink clothed beds on either side of the room. Two strides brought me to the first bed, containing sweet Isabelle, her golden curls surrounding her head resting on the pillow. I withdrew my husband’s straight razor from my apron pocket, pausing for a moment to admire the sunlight playing across the blade. The pause was short; I shook myself out of my reverie and refocused on my goal.
Leaning over my sweet angel, I planted a soft kiss on her forehead as I quickly slid the smooth metal across her throat. There was a soft gurgle; I covered her mouth with firm kindness as her blue eyes stared up at me, slowly fading of their brilliance. It lasted not even a moment, her body limp and the sheets now more crimson than pink. I wiped the blade clean with my apron, a vicious splotch of colour against the pristine white, and then crossed the room to the other bed.
Genevieve laid blissfully unaware of the protection I was bestowing on these girls, of what was soon to happen in this room, as well as across the Earth. Her curls were usually darker than her sister’s which were now dyed a deep, reddish brown colour from the saturation of her exsanguination. I brushed the back of my fingers across her downy cheeks, causing her eyelashes to flutter as she neared the waking threshold. Again, I quickly flashed the blade with my hand over her lips, this time with a slight sadness in my heart. My mind knew this was the best for my girls; my heart was merely slow to catch up. After watching Genevieve slowly pass on to heaven, I moved to the door, pausing at the exit to turn back with a soft sigh before gently closing it behind me. I refrained from cleaning their essence from my fingers, already feeling the coagulation process stiffening around them. I passed through the foyer to return to the porch, settling back into my favourite rocking chair as the sun finished rising on the horizon.
The world had been waiting for this day since inception. I like to view myself as a being of logic and faith. How can one deny something that not only has been ordained but validated with hard numerological facts? Time can be a fickle friend when it comes to expectations. Sadly, a small miscalculation has laid our claims under fire, lending strength to the miscreants who wish to belittle our beliefs and dispute them as erroneous. Forgiveness shall be given to them, for I am a wholesome woman and acknowledge that they are merely misguided souls which have been tainted by hidden hands imbued with heat. As the time of reckoning passed, my heart felt a moment of guilt and regret. I console myself with my knowledge that my girls are happier above with their Father and Saviour than on this plane of existence with sinners and temptation.
Saturday morning broke, one of the first sticky hot daybreaks of the year. An omen of what to come when contemplated, fitting of such a day of destiny. I sat on my porch, delighting in the sunrise for the final time, knowing I will miss this small pleasure in life.
The house was silent as I moved from the porch indoors, a placid smile on my face as I mounted the stairs in the foyer. I padded silently down the hall to the second door on the left. The door was already cracked, needing only a slight nudge to swing open, providing a vista of two pink clothed beds on either side of the room. Two strides brought me to the first bed, containing sweet Isabelle, her golden curls surrounding her head resting on the pillow. I withdrew my husband’s straight razor from my apron pocket, pausing for a moment to admire the sunlight playing across the blade. The pause was short; I shook myself out of my reverie and refocused on my goal.
Leaning over my sweet angel, I planted a soft kiss on her forehead as I quickly slid the smooth metal across her throat. There was a soft gurgle; I covered her mouth with firm kindness as her blue eyes stared up at me, slowly fading of their brilliance. It lasted not even a moment, her body limp and the sheets now more crimson than pink. I wiped the blade clean with my apron, a vicious splotch of colour against the pristine white, and then crossed the room to the other bed.
Genevieve laid blissfully unaware of the protection I was bestowing on these girls, of what was soon to happen in this room, as well as across the Earth. Her curls were usually darker than her sister’s which were now dyed a deep, reddish brown colour from the saturation of her exsanguination. I brushed the back of my fingers across her downy cheeks, causing her eyelashes to flutter as she neared the waking threshold. Again, I quickly flashed the blade with my hand over her lips, this time with a slight sadness in my heart. My mind knew this was the best for my girls; my heart was merely slow to catch up. After watching Genevieve slowly pass on to heaven, I moved to the door, pausing at the exit to turn back with a soft sigh before gently closing it behind me. I refrained from cleaning their essence from my fingers, already feeling the coagulation process stiffening around them. I passed through the foyer to return to the porch, settling back into my favourite rocking chair as the sun finished rising on the horizon.
The world had been waiting for this day since inception. I like to view myself as a being of logic and faith. How can one deny something that not only has been ordained but validated with hard numerological facts? Time can be a fickle friend when it comes to expectations. Sadly, a small miscalculation has laid our claims under fire, lending strength to the miscreants who wish to belittle our beliefs and dispute them as erroneous. Forgiveness shall be given to them, for I am a wholesome woman and acknowledge that they are merely misguided souls which have been tainted by hidden hands imbued with heat. As the time of reckoning passed, my heart felt a moment of guilt and regret. I console myself with my knowledge that my girls are happier above with their Father and Saviour than on this plane of existence with sinners and temptation.
23 May, 2011
English, 111 (Similes)
I've just started an online English course ... Figured I should invest in a piece of paper that verifies I've been taught proper English since I have decided to attempt to one day make a living as a writer.
Our first assignment is to fill out a worksheet on similes, metaphors, and personification. Here's a taste of my style of simile.
Figurative Language: Simile
1. Grandpa walks slowly, like sap down a tapped Canadian Maple.
Grandpa walks as slowly as an injured antelope after a lioness partially misses her strike, escaping with a crippled back leg.
2. We gaped at the double rainbow like a hairy hippy in the cascading lands of Colorado.
We gaped as unabashedly as a panhandler begs for a change of heart and coins at the double rainbow.
3. That old sofa is worn ragged like a Hollywood red light lady after a tough night on the streets.
That old sofa is as worn as all references to Borat and Sacha Baron Cohen.
4. The foxes slip away like my childhood after I met pornography.
The foxes slip away as smooth as a ninja playing Hide-and-Seek with Elementary School children.
5. She works hard every day like a fool who thinks it actually gives meaning to their life.
She works as hard as a man every day; which means not much is getting done.
6. It was dusty at the building site like, "whoa!"
It was as dusty as Anne Colter's lady garden at the building site.
Our first assignment is to fill out a worksheet on similes, metaphors, and personification. Here's a taste of my style of simile.
Figurative Language: Simile
1. Grandpa walks slowly, like sap down a tapped Canadian Maple.
Grandpa walks as slowly as an injured antelope after a lioness partially misses her strike, escaping with a crippled back leg.
2. We gaped at the double rainbow like a hairy hippy in the cascading lands of Colorado.
We gaped as unabashedly as a panhandler begs for a change of heart and coins at the double rainbow.
3. That old sofa is worn ragged like a Hollywood red light lady after a tough night on the streets.
That old sofa is as worn as all references to Borat and Sacha Baron Cohen.
4. The foxes slip away like my childhood after I met pornography.
The foxes slip away as smooth as a ninja playing Hide-and-Seek with Elementary School children.
5. She works hard every day like a fool who thinks it actually gives meaning to their life.
She works as hard as a man every day; which means not much is getting done.
6. It was dusty at the building site like, "whoa!"
It was as dusty as Anne Colter's lady garden at the building site.
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