Leaves Of Grass

Whitman wrote this poem during the times of the civil war. Racism was very common, and yet he shows respect and admiration towards the "negro". His ideas are very controversial and liberal in the sense that he respects everyone, and sees them as equal. In this poem, he creates a visual image at first, which he then transforms into an idea or concept. In this case equality.

The negro appears to be confident and strong. His dominion over the beasts suggests that he also has power over others, and yet has no reason to abuse it. He also appears to be interesting and attractive, and he is probably referring to the whole race.

Change In Our Lifes

“The smoke of my own breath; echoes, ripples buzz´d, love root….” (2) As I read poem number two I thought of how life can be different for everyone else. Whitman expresses a way of life. This poem is very similar to books we read in 9th grade. Considering the time the book was written, a time when people started reasoning or thinking on revolution people as Ralph Waldo Emerson on self reliance. I like the way he approaches the reader, he has a new and renovating idea of a life style.

All that Walt Whitman is asking from us is to awaken. Whitman is encouraging us to appreciate everything that we experience in our lives. Every little thing that we take for granted is much more complex and beautiful than what most of us see of it. In this case, he starts by mentioning individual characteristics of the human bodies, but progresses into a broader concept of life in general.

By using vivid imagery and metaphors, Whitman allows us to see his perspective and although I do believe that we should stop for some moments to admire the world in which we live in, it becomes more difficult every day. Not to mention the technology that surrounds us, but also that our generation has accustomed to craving things at an incredible pace, and we are never satisfied. In these days, few people would simply ignore, and discredit the wonders that surround us.

Something funny I noticed was that Whitman made an involuntary gesture that looks like a winking face. When he said "(there are millions of suns left;)" Considering the time period, I believe it to be chance, but I do have to say that it looks intentional and suits the idea well.

Who Defines Our Style?

One of the best things in the world is listening to a good speaker. Now there is always a good speaker on your life, for instance my Grandfather is someone who I love to hear speak, especially when he is talking about the past. His voice is low but sweet, the tone just invites you in, and when you listen to it, you would probably enjoy hearing it forever. It is like having a good book but instead of you reading it, he reads it for you. It may be the way he narrates the story he speaks a though he were there watching the person make decisions, I don't know if I have the words to describe it, but he always starts with the word "cuando". The simple soul is a book that I would love to hear my Grandfather read out loud. The book uses these words that I don't normally hear, and the tone that it has reminds me of the nights I used to sit at my beach house with my Grandfather at living room discussing politics with his friends. Some of the books sentences even start with his words, "When he went downstairs, he rested his beak on the steps, lifted his right foot and then his left one; but his mistress feared that such feats would give him vertigo. He became ill and was unable to eat. There was a small growth under his tongue like those chickens are sometimes afflicted with."(Chapter IV). When I was little I used to picture myself narrating just like him, and I have tried but I have trouble with words, they are so many and mean so many things that I don't know how to use them and if I do, I can't help wondering if I used them correctly. One of the worst things is the mal practice of words, sometimes I am afraid to write because I don't know what I am doing. Writing is something scary to me, the idea of someone judging you or the thousand ways to fix a paragraph, how can I, have it the right way. I have heard that practice makes perfect but I practice, I have journal and I still can't get the good grades in the class or have the effect on people like Gustave Flaubert or my Grandfather do. Their style and choice of words is something that I wish I would get to one day, they make the things that are very common and give them life. In my family where writing is something you have to relief emotions, award winning writing and newspaper columnists, like my Great aunt, who's writing got her a trip to Europe and some chocolates. Her use of words is breathtaking. Style is something unique to every person but I am afraid is don't have one yet, but I enjoy the different types I get to read every day.

Carta a dios:

Te llevaste a mi niño, nuestro niño, el hijo de mi marido y mío, el hermano de su hermana, el amigo de sus amigos, el compañero de su amiga, el cuñado, el nieto, el tío, el sobrino.

El profesor, el bailarín, el teatrero, el escritor, el dibujante...

Te hacía falta quién te llenara el cielo de cuadros coloridos, quién te escribiera cuentos y te los leyera, quién bailara y actuara para ti.

Quién te divirtiera con su ingenio, con su risa.

Quién te ordenara y decorara el cielo, quién hiciera las fiestas de bienvenida para todos
los nuevos inquilinos.

Quién se encargara de los libros, las velas, la música, los postres, y de mover la luna.
Quién diseñara lo que aún no se había inventado.

Quién llenara ese vacío de santa monotonía, y acaso de falta de novedad que a lo mejor respira por allá.

Jorge llegó con Pafi, su osito de felpa, a barrer las nubes y a poner las estrellas en su sitio.

A sacudir la lluvia, a formar copos de nieve.

Y a hacer que el sol brillara más claro por su propia transparencia.

Jorge llegó con su verdad, según tu voluntad. A conversar contigo.

A oírte...y a que lo oyeras.

Una vez él había escrito una 'Oración a Diosesito', tú debes conocerla...

Él te llamaba así, 'Diosesito', y escribió en su diario: "Yo sabía que tenía que darle el regalo de mis danzas a la gente y a Diosesito".

He oído que mucha gente te da las gracias a ti, Dios, por una cosa, otra y la de más allá.

Pero esta vez toca que Tú, Dios, me las des a mí o nuestra cuenta sigue pendiente.
Formal saludo.

Mariluz Uribe de Holguín.

A Complex Style In Simple Words.

As I read the chapters, I thought of how the title is so contradicting to the style of the book. A Simple Soul, the book is not even near simple, the over descriptions of a house a garden are just so complex and so complete, that the name of the book is pure irony. “The new moon illumined part of the sky and a mist hovered like a veil over the sinuosities of the river. Oxen, lying in the pastures, gazed mildly at the passing persons. (Chapter II).” The sentences are about the same length. The imagery is very notable. I also enjoyed the way words, foreshadowed some events in chapter III Virginia, the little girl is very ill and living at a convent. She comes back, “Virginia walked in it, leaning on her mother's arm and treading the dead vine leaves.” (Chapter III) notice the word dead vine leaves, it foreshadows Virginia’s death. As Virginia walks towards death the same way, she treads through the dead leaves.
It is felicities nephew who dies, but when Madame Aubin compares Virginia to Victor it guessed that Virginia was next to die. The description of Victors death, it can be representing how somebody else is dying, the words “Here goes another one!” are rather insulting or diminishing human life. “He died almost instantly, and the chief surgeon had said: "Here goes another one!"(Chapter III)
So far the story is, enjoyable I like the way I can relate it to my history class, when they speak of American Revolution. After these mentions, I can imagine the way they lived easily, for what I know of the time. I liked the style of how is unpredictable and I had to read several times to understand the exact meaning of the words.