Every nation has met war face-to-face. Every nation has suffered in the time of war, lost so many lives, fallen and risen. Every nation has conquered and every nation has lost. Every nation has been in a place that they can't escape, locked in their own home. Every nation has been at war.
Thomas Mann once said, "War is a cowardly way to escape from the problems of peace." Which is true. When peace doesn't fit or work the way we want it to, we resort to war. This method clearly is not productive, helpful, or right, but still, still we fall back upon war to catch us like open arms. Still we put thousands of soldiers out there to risk and end their lives just so we don't have to face our own fears. Not many people stop to think about alternative ways to solve global issues, besides war. Besides dropping bombs and pulling triggers and sending fear and terror into every corner of every room.
"War does not determine who is right; only who is left." - Bertrand Russell. War does not, indeed, determine who is right or wrong. It only determines who is left, still alive, still standing, still there. War does not make you strong, or give you great power. It takes that power away like a gust of wind.
The poem I am commenting on is "Roadkill" which is mostly about my fascination with the news, and how terrible I find what I read, though I continue to keep reading. https://youngwritersproject.org/node/15690 (I'm going to skip affirmation as it feels so weird to do this for my own writing) I wold really like to see more imagery around the roadkill woven into the rest of the poem, I like how it bookends the poem and holds it together, but I feel like this could really benefit from some more tie-ins throughout. Additionally, it would be nice if you could elaborate more on avoidance, and what exactly you mean there, it isn't terribly clear.
H20.hollym, (affirmation here!) My one suggestion for you would be to read through your poem again, if you got the chance, and explore using different possible words to improve the flow of the poem. In a few lines, a word seems to not totally fit, like in the fifth to last line, when you use the word "eats." But overall, I really loved your poem, keep up the good work!
Envision your daughter lying in the local hospital bed. She’s wearing a loose cotton gown covered with prints of laughing cartoon puppies; its design inspired by the Chief of Pediatrics suggestion to “lighten up” the otherwise somber and downbeat feel of the place. On the recently starched chalky bed, she is curled up in a fetal position with both knees tightly hugging her stomach. Her eyes are red and watery from a constant nagging itch, and her swollen lips tighten and crack as she tries to form a lopsided smile as you approach her. While attempting to hold a conversation, she sporadically bends over to heave in a small bin, and in return her voice is hoarse and strains as she speaks. A few days later, flat red patches appear on her skin. The rash migrates to her arms, head, neck, stomach, and eventually down to her legs. Then the chills begin to set in, and soon enough she is submerged in sweat, shaking. Her complexion progresses to mimic a pasty yellow hue. Her face is ashen.
The details in this piece are what really makes it stand out to me. The watermelon shampoo, the yellow-stained tub, the blue terrycloth...they make the poem so vivid and provide valuable imagery. Good descriptors like you've got here can really enhance a piece of work. Well done.
So, as it turns out, I had responded to this when it was originally posted, here was my first comment: This is very thought provoking, you do a very nice job of teasing some very important ideas while still telling a captivating story, instead of being overly preachy. Nice! Now I think it is nice, and affirming, it is not very specific, so with the new advice, here is my revised/expanded version; This is very thought provoking, you do a very nice job of teasing some very important ideas while still telling a captivating story, instead of being overly preachy. I love how you use such a simple pretense to make things so much bigger, this becomes so much more than that moment, but at the same time, it is still so incredibly small. I keep reading this over and over! Nice!
The pansies, the new purples and pinks unfolding delicately underneath warm present sunshine, died the last time a thunderstorm passed by. They were crippled, no, crushed under the might of untamed energy. I remember the white rain, torrents so thick they hid the sky from view. The storm broke the sluggishness of the summer afternoon, the sleepiness of the cats that stretched on calmly peeling porches, the falling eyelids of a babe in a quiet room. It gashed pleasant sidewalks and good-humored neighbors in flashing light. It kicked and screamed, and it was beautiful. There was a pause, for the earth to sigh, and with a refreshing rip like that of paper, the sky sang blank newness.
Halima grew up in a small town in northern Niger as the third of a family of six children. Her mother, who never graduated from high school, strived for Halima to receive the education she never was able to. Her father, who was the first in his village to graduate from university taught her to dream about her future. At age 15, a time when many girls her age were married and working, she was the first female member of the youth parliament and fought for the rights of girls across Niger.
Halima is a success story. Why talk about her instead of 130 million girls out of school across the globe? Because Halima is the embodiment of the insurmountable effects of empowerment and education.
I am a girl and I have goals for the future. Many of you are like me. Around the world, those two things don't go together. If you were born thousands of miles away you could be one of 130 million girls who do not attend school. Your future, your dreams, what would become of them? Girls are often raised in an environment where cultural norms prevent them from having, and achieving, their dreams. Empowering a girl changes her world, our world, and the world.
America values compromises. We do this to work out the differences in opinions and ideals to avoid tyranny and form a more perfect Union. It was purposefully written into our Constitution, a document that resulted from compromise. Being American means that we strive for compromise. The Constitution was one of the first compromises in American government. Before the Constitution, there was the Articles of Confederation, documents that were aimed to make the government limited so that one person did not hold all of the power. The Articles failed because they limited the government too much. The founding fathers called themselves together in 1787 to create a better system of government. They needed something that did not block government too much but limited it enough to block tyranny. They held meetings to figure out what the government should be structured like, and how it should run. After months upon months of debating and compromise the founding fathers came to an agreement‒the final draft of the Constitution.
So, background: in my English class, we have to write these horrible essays full of what seems to me to be sentimental bullshit, in the theme of "This I believe." The prompts were along the lines of how our memories had shaped us as a person and what life lessons we'd learned. I found this disgusting, so to be spiteful in class today (it's the end of the year, everyone's running out of patience) I wrote this essay as a way of making myself feel better. I planned on deleting it, but before I could my English teacher read it and decidedthat not only did it make sense, it gave him insight into me. (Not sure if I should be scared by that.) I thought I'd put it up here, just as an experiment.
If I wanted, I could write a long chain of anecdotes about my difficult seventh grade year, about my antisociality, about me learning to come out of my shell. Then I’d end the essay on a sickly-sweet upbeat note (we can all become happier if we try!) and go about my merry way, feeling like a filthy liar. Because the truth is, I loathe sentimentality, I loathe lying, and I have no story about how my experiences have shaped my life to tell. Believe me, I have tried. Sentimentality is one thing. False sentimentality is worse. I believe in honesty and making things work by your own standards; and if that means writing more of a list of the reasons I can’t write an essay than an actual essay, that’s all right with me.
For many years women and girls have been judged because of their gender. Because of this, about 63 million girls across the globe can not go to school to learn. Many women were not supported with what they wanted to do in their lives. Now, women are starting to receive more and more supportment. You may have heard of the Women’s March. More things like this are starting to happen. And that, is a good thing.
It used to be much harder for women to be accepted into colleges for their interests. Most women didn’t even try. Some you might have heard of like Amelia Earhart. It was very hard for her to be accepted into flight school. Since she never gave up, she broke many world records.
Not until 1920 women were allowed to vote. It just started in the 1900’s women had started to have rights. Before all this started to change women were expected to clean, cook, bake, and take care of the children. Once women started to have jobs, they weren’t paid as much as men.
When I first heard this question i didn't know. Then it struck me, literally and figuritivly. I was being emotionally abused, and verbally abused. I tried to get away from my bully but he never let go. I figure out what the answer to my life long question was.
The meaning of life is loving yourself and everything around you, but loving yourself first.. You may have heard the " Golden Rule", treat others the way you wanted to be treated. I suddenly realized this was true. I had not treated this person very well. I'm keeping his name a secret, I don't really know why becuase he should feel shame but it's not fair to him to be exposed
I know that most of these thing are nothing to you but they are something to me. I know that loving myself was going to be hard but now im not the little girl i used to be. My bully has since left me, yes him and i had a thing, he was the one person i have learned from. I always wanted to be with him but we never were around eachother at the right time. He emotionally abused me and verbally abused me and im still having trouble seeing him around and it's gotten worse but i know i have my boyfriend and my bestfriends.