Monday, November 30, 2009

My Ironic Literature about Snow

Pushing myself helplessly towards any kind of shelter, any sort of place where I can salvage a little heat to keep myself warm, my hands out, legs braced, I feel the piercing cold of the snow as it plunders up against my face . Like sharp knives, hitting me. Across the face, dragging down my neck, plummeting into soft skin, anywhere, anywhere it can be found. I try to look down, guarding my eyes from the tiny white knives, but it only makes the moment worse. I can't see up ahead, and I deffinately can't hear because of the roaring winds. And then I fall, fall into my own hole of darkness and light, left in the middle of nowhere to prune up, and freeze to death in the awful; awful cold, awful pain streaking snow. This is the way it is, in the wild, where I live, and am going to die.




7 comments:

  1. It was really good and I like the ending a lot. The words you use and your sentence structure really added intensity to the story. Really good job!

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  2. That was a pretty intense story. I agree with Morgan about the ending. Nice job!

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  3. this poem is very dark...I like it a lot. Describing the snowflakes like tiny white knives was good. It emphasized the harshness of the blizard. And it was a really bad one, too.

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  4. A really bad blizard I mean.

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  5. Yeah this was an excellent piece. I know that we are like supposed to comment about like how you could improve this but I don't think this needs much improvement if any at all! Great job :)

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  6. That was soooooooo good. I totoally felt like I was there, um the only thing would be if it was a poem thing the lines, but it was really AMAZING!

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  7. i really liked that a lot. it was painful, yet enjoyable to read, which is kind of a weird type of desription. i liked the way you used repetition, it made it sound really mysterious and interesting. nice job:)
    PS put more experiencces on your blog, it's kind of serious with out them

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