four leaf clovers
she is lucky finding love
and tomorrow is here again
morning meadows
they walk with animals
wild broccoli pieces fell apart
and the children
laugh at green leaves
it was funny
cause she stole money
running after the bunny
a big bad bear dancing
and then he giggled
and the world molded
we jumped farther still
however could not reach
the dreams we dreamed
-team cloonan
Tuesday, April 29, 2008
Thursday, April 24, 2008
Group Assignment
How To Kill
Under the parabola of a ball,
a child turning into a man,
I looked into the air too long.
The ball fell in my hand, it sang
in the closed fist: Open Open
Behold a gift designed to kill.
Now in my dial of glass appears
the soldier who is going to die.
He smiles, and moves about in ways
his mother knows, habits of his.
The wires touch his face: I cry
NOW. Death, like a familiar, hears
and look, has made a man of dust
of a man of flesh. This sorcery
I do. Being damned, I am amused
to see the centre of love diffused
and the wave of love travel into vacancy.
How easy it is to make a ghost.
The weightless mosquito touches
her tiny shadow on the stone,
and with how like, how infinite
a lightness, man and shadow meet.
They fuse. A shadow is a man
when the mosquito death approaches.
-Keith Douglas
The narrative of the poem is slow and seems like the person is breathing heavily, in a dangerous place, in the moment. There is a feeling of calm which we do not usually associate with killing. However, there seems to be panic and confusion beneath the calm of the poem, which becomes apparent through the sentence structure of the poem. Many of the stanzas include single run-on sentences. The confusion by this speaker is meant to evoke a similar feeling in the reader. The place where this person finds himself is not natural, and he wants the audience to know this. The speaker wants whoever may read this to understand that there is an uncomfortable ease with which we now engage in war and killing. In the beginning of the poem, the man talks about a ball being in his hands. This ball seems symbolize the fact that it is his turn to kill. The person in the poem does not seem to want the power to kill, which he realizes he has when he talks about glass balls and sorcery. This gives the impression that he is in control of a man's fate. The poem ends with a statement about the ease at which life becomes death. The speaker ends the poem with a sense of reflection, looking back at his action, and just how easy it was.
-Puja, Jennie, Erin, Niki, Eytan, Matt
Under the parabola of a ball,
a child turning into a man,
I looked into the air too long.
The ball fell in my hand, it sang
in the closed fist: Open Open
Behold a gift designed to kill.
Now in my dial of glass appears
the soldier who is going to die.
He smiles, and moves about in ways
his mother knows, habits of his.
The wires touch his face: I cry
NOW. Death, like a familiar, hears
and look, has made a man of dust
of a man of flesh. This sorcery
I do. Being damned, I am amused
to see the centre of love diffused
and the wave of love travel into vacancy.
How easy it is to make a ghost.
The weightless mosquito touches
her tiny shadow on the stone,
and with how like, how infinite
a lightness, man and shadow meet.
They fuse. A shadow is a man
when the mosquito death approaches.
-Keith Douglas
The narrative of the poem is slow and seems like the person is breathing heavily, in a dangerous place, in the moment. There is a feeling of calm which we do not usually associate with killing. However, there seems to be panic and confusion beneath the calm of the poem, which becomes apparent through the sentence structure of the poem. Many of the stanzas include single run-on sentences. The confusion by this speaker is meant to evoke a similar feeling in the reader. The place where this person finds himself is not natural, and he wants the audience to know this. The speaker wants whoever may read this to understand that there is an uncomfortable ease with which we now engage in war and killing. In the beginning of the poem, the man talks about a ball being in his hands. This ball seems symbolize the fact that it is his turn to kill. The person in the poem does not seem to want the power to kill, which he realizes he has when he talks about glass balls and sorcery. This gives the impression that he is in control of a man's fate. The poem ends with a statement about the ease at which life becomes death. The speaker ends the poem with a sense of reflection, looking back at his action, and just how easy it was.
-Puja, Jennie, Erin, Niki, Eytan, Matt
A Civilian War
The first picture is of a Croatian boy at his father's funeral and the second of Bosnian prisoners. These are two examples of what happens to civililians who are not directly involved with the war. We often see photos of exhausted soldiers and destroyed buildings, yet these are the effects on bystanders.
Sometimes we forget that the repercussions of war are widespread and far-reaching. Beyond the soldiers that fight the war, and the leadership that instigates war, there are those that had no choice in the war - the mothers, the sisters, the husbands, the wives, the children, the citizens of a country at war who have no choice but to live the life of a country at war. The Bosnian prisoners shown in this picture may or may not have had a choice to participate in the war; the caption is unclear. However, the effects of war on these prisoners is undoubtedly clear. Eyes are first drawn to the ribs of the man at the center of the photograph; you can count every single rib easily. His hip bones jut out in a manner that girls at the gym would be envious of, but I doubt that was the look he was going for. For him, it is a look of circumstance. A look that speaks of days without food and proper nourishment, days of craving home cooked meals and comfortable conditions, days of illness and insanity. The angles of the bodies in this picture contrast with the smooth blue sky in the background, leaving the focus solely on the bones. The bones of skeletons still alive.
The most obvious thing in the first photograph is undoubtedly the boy crying. Not only is his face contorted in anguish by the idea of his father being gone, but he is wearing a white shirt that starkly contrasts the black all the adults are wearing. White is often associated with purity or peace, and for the young boy to be wearing this color represents his innocence. Also, the elderly woman has a white handkerchief in her hands that she is crying into. This small square of fabric is offering some peace to her pain in this moment. The building behind these people once lent perfect lines and shapes to any background, but is now crumbling on this sad day.
Sometimes we forget that the repercussions of war are widespread and far-reaching. Beyond the soldiers that fight the war, and the leadership that instigates war, there are those that had no choice in the war - the mothers, the sisters, the husbands, the wives, the children, the citizens of a country at war who have no choice but to live the life of a country at war. The Bosnian prisoners shown in this picture may or may not have had a choice to participate in the war; the caption is unclear. However, the effects of war on these prisoners is undoubtedly clear. Eyes are first drawn to the ribs of the man at the center of the photograph; you can count every single rib easily. His hip bones jut out in a manner that girls at the gym would be envious of, but I doubt that was the look he was going for. For him, it is a look of circumstance. A look that speaks of days without food and proper nourishment, days of craving home cooked meals and comfortable conditions, days of illness and insanity. The angles of the bodies in this picture contrast with the smooth blue sky in the background, leaving the focus solely on the bones. The bones of skeletons still alive.
-Puja and Jennie
Tuesday, April 22, 2008
9/11
I remember this day perfectly. I don't remember anything about 9/10 or 9/12, but I have such vivid memories of Sept. 11th. I woke up and went to school, just like any other day. I was in 9th grade at the time, but in my school district, this meant I was still in Junior High. None of the teachers were allowed to tell us anything, for fear of scaring the 7th graders. We knew something was up. The few people that had come in late that day were spreading rumors of what they saw on TV. By 6th hour the story had shifted to: "People are bombing every major building in every major city! The Renaissance Center downtown is next!" Oh immature gossip...
Finally at the end of the day, the principal came over the PA system and told us a watered-down version of what happened. They treated us like children, even though we all knew something major was happening. The TVs were not allowed to be turned on, and all the teachers were huddling in the hallways whispering as their eyes darted back and forth nervously. The school sent us home with some lame letter explaining what had happened that day, and if anyone needed counseling, it was available.
Then, I got home and found the REAL story. Every news station was playing the same stuff every 15 minutes, so I was caught up pretty quickly. I just cried. I didn't know what else to do.
When my dad got home, I sat on his lap like I used to when I was 5. We cried together. This place had a special meaning to us. We had visited there before. We had stood in that monstrous tower. Now it was gone...
Then the adult gossip started. Immediately, everyone searched for a culprit. Everyone had to have something to contribute to this ongoing conversation. "It must've been Saddam Hussein!" "I heard from my cousin that his wife's brother's father-in-law is a suicide bomber, and THIS is gonna happen next!" "Sweetie, don't talk to anyone in your class that wears a turbin around their head. It's more safe that way..."
Oh gossip...
Thursday, April 17, 2008
In Deep ShitWednesday, April 16, 2008
Dirty Surgery
This is an area of war that fascinates me. The evolution of medicine can be seen throughout America's involvement in war. As the website in the link above discusses, medicine at the time of the Civil War was "barbaric to barely competent". During the Civil War, a soldier had a 1 in 4 chance of not surviving, and many died from infections that are easily treated with antibiotics today. As we saw from the film "Alive Day" today's soldiers survive things such as brain injury and the loss of multiple limbs. Medicine has transformed into a science of superhuman capabilities.
The picture above exemplifies the simplicity of the medical field during the 1800s. I think any one of today's surgeons would cringe at the thought of operating on a slab of wood held up by two barrels. Sterilizing and aseptic techniques were essentially non-existent back then.
The lines of the tent and table create a frame for the photograph. I like the way the white towel stands out against the black backdrop. This highlights the vulnerability of the man on the table. The dirt and leaves on the ground give the photo texture and draw the viewer's eye to focus on the raw environment which this surgeon is operating in.
Tuesday, April 15, 2008
Black Water Bridge
Four Blackwater private security employees are killed in Falluja; the mutilated bodies of two of the men are hung from a bridge over the Euphrates River.This picture is outrageous. Everyone is celebrating the bodies they have destroyed and hung from this bridge. It's hard to even tell they are humans dangling there. The angle of the shot makes the man with his arm up look as big as the massive structure behind him. This gives the feeling that he is larger than his surroundings and more than human to have the power to steal away life. The shapes of the metal bridge columns give the photo structure while utter pandemonium goes on all throughout. When first looking at this picture, it's hard to decide what to look at first. The man off to the right clinging to the steel column looks animalistic. Below him, another man holds a piece of paper, undoubtedly including some sort of anti-American sentiment. Far off in the distance, you can see palm trees. These are out of focus, and this is likely intentional to not give emphasis to objects that are normally associated with vacations on the beach. This situation is neither calm nor relaxing and the photographer portrays that perfectly.
~Jennie~Erin~Puja~
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