Tabs

Tuesday, March 20, 2012

When I was young...

Grandpa: Ryan, it's time for you to go to bed now...
Grandson: I don't want to!
Grandpa: But it's getting late, or the Lurkers will come!
Grandson: What Lurkers?
Grandpa: You really wanna know?
Grandson: Yes! Yes! Tell me!
Grandpa: Alright. Now you just get onto that bed and I'll tell ya.
Grandson: Yay! Storytime!
Grandpa: Oh, I wouldn't say its a story, it's a legend
Grandson: What's a legend?
Grandpa: A legend is a foretold myth that is true and people have seen it with their own eyes.
Grandson: Wow, am I a legend?
Grandpa: Heh heh, well I don't know son, but you sure have a curious mind!
Grandson: Grandpa, could you tell me about the Lurkers now?
Grandpa: Oh ya right! So, legend says, that the Lurkers come out at night just like this one, to take little children who aren't in bed. And--Are you scared already!?!
Grandson: Yes...
Grandpa: Well, then you ain't as brave as I thought.
Grandson: Yes I am!
Grandpa: Alright. If you say so. So, the Lurkers are horrible creatures whom live in the mountains and have thousands and thousands of arms to grab the little children.
Grandson: Ahhhhhhh! They're going to eat me!
Grandpa: So you better go to bed!
Grandson: Will they eat eat me if I'm in bed?
Grandpa: No, they won't, cuz I'll be watching.
Grandson: Hey, what's that sound?
Grandpa: It's nothing, just probably the wind.
Grandson: But what if it's a Lurker?
Grandpa: Impossible!
Grandson: But you said they come on nights like tonight!
Grandpa: Oh you'll be fine. Besides, when I was young, in the mountain boy scouts, I was very helpful with everything. I helped everyone. It was like I had thousands and thousands of arms, and they called me the Lurker!
Grandson: I don't get it, but goodnight grandpa.




Tuesday, March 13, 2012

"Hope" is the thing with feathers


A| Hope is the thing with feathers
B| That perches in the soul,
A| And sings the tune--without the words,
B| And never stops at all,



C| And sweetest in the gale is heard;
D| And sore must be the storm
C| That could abash the little bird
D| That kept so many warm.



    I've heard it in the chillest land,
E| And on the strangest sea;
E| Yet, never, in extremity,
E| It asked a crumb of me.



~ Emily Dickinson
Legend:
Rhyme Pattern
Alliteration
Assonance
Consonance
Metaphor


Sunday, March 11, 2012

The Eagle

A| He clasps the crag with crooked hands;
A| Close to the sun in lonely lands,
A| Ring'd with the azure world, he stands.


B| The wrinkled sea beneath him crawls;
B| He watches from his mountain walls,
B| And like a thunderbolt he falls.


~Alfred, Lord Tennyson
Legend:
Rhyme Pattern
Alliteration
Assonance
Consonance
Simile