Beowulf

Mortality

Dear Reader

This project has been quite interesting to say the least. It was very stressful, but I enjoyed broadening my horizons. I chose Mortality as my topic because it surrounds us in life whether we choose to acknowledge it or not. My genres vary because I tried to grasp all the aspects of mortality. In my poetry I acknowledged life, my Ballad acknowledged the never knowing when or where death will come knocking, and in my diary entry I acknowledged the fear of being mortal. I learned that Poetry isn't very hard to write if it's not over thought. The main thing I was proud of doing was the Poetry. Previous to writing my Poems I read some different Poetry to get an understanding for how to incorporate what I was reading with what it was making me feel, and I believe that was the most challenging part of these projects was understanding what you were reading and then applying it to what was asked of you as a student. In the future if I ever have to attempt a project such as this I need to plan it better. Organization is key, even if you have no idea how to complete it, if organized, it makes it ten times easier.

Beowulf the mighty

In this Ballad I wrote of beginning of Beowulf and how the story unfolds. It shows that death comes when it want's not when your ready.


There once was a man

Tall and mighty was he

This man had a inconceivable plan

Then soon after this brilliant idea he set to sea.


He traveled through weather

Thrashing this way and that

The sea tossing and turning

Like the meed they’d drink from a vat.


Upon their arrival

To face a soon friends rival

They met in their path

A watchmen full of potential wrath


Helping a fellow King

They replied

Beowulf was full of Pride

Hoping to be received with arms open wide.


While the mighty sleep

The servants weep

For in the darkness of the halls

A slithering frightening Beast crawls.


With nothing to fear

The men slept in there mead

Knowing nothing of what was coming

Not knowing that they’d never leave


So while the men slumber

A dark force plunders

Planning their deaths

The raging storm thunders


Thirty men lay down to sleep

Dreaming of there impossible feat

Thirty men dragged out the door

Thirty men there are no more


Strangled and mangled

They met their fate

The sky hung low in the night

While this monster finished his late bite.


In the morning

Beowulf saw

The anguish of it all

Beowulf laid down the law


Soon he would find the beast

Killing him would be another victory

Then soon after they should have a feast

And a mighty time of celebration

Death to us all vs. A Life Worth Living

Description: Death and life go hand in hand. Every few minutes a person dies, and every few minutes a baby is born. Mortality is the topic I choose. I wrote two poems. The first one is about death and I wrote it based on the Canterbury tales. In the tale when they talk about death having an appointment and the moral of the story is revealed. You can’t run away from death. The second poem is about Life and how death and how they can be gentleman if you let them be.





When you were a child

Fresh born from a new mother

We wished you good tidings

And place a bonnet on your head

Your mother looked down upon your sweet face

And wished you would never have to leave this safe place

But as she looked down she realized

She could not protect you at all

For death, he comes for us all

Eventually the dark will sweep you away

That why people always die on a rainy day

The rain is a silent way for the earth to say goodbye

Commending you for the life lived with a sigh

While the earth stood awaiting for you to come to bed

The loving child wept down on her mother's head

Always the good ones the preacher said

Her mother was gentle and kind

But death he comes for all, he doesn’t mind.

An appointments an appointment

People all the same.






Life worth living:


A life worth living

Isn’t worth living at all

Whether you're big, tiny, tall, or small

Life treats you all the same

Giving you nobody to blame

We shrug our shoulders

Screaming up at the sky

What is the point of holding up boulders

If you're too weak to cry

The world will keep spinning

Giving you no regards

While you keep sinning

Emotion continually bombards

It writes its name all over your face

Never the gentleman to wait till you find a quiet place

Life was never gentle or kind

Especially not when you found yourself in a bind

But a gentleman finally was he

He opened the door with a shiny new key

Life can be good or it can be bad

The difference is made when you decide fight or flight

Life is a wonderful gift

But death is just as swift

You have to decide what’s important in life

Dark Night Screams

I choose to do the diary entry. I wrote it from the perspective of a peasant or kitchen servant. Someone who would have been close enough to feel the fear of the situation and know the threat of death and just how close death came knocking. You never know how swift death is or the time you have left. Life is precious and shouldn’t be taken for granted our mortality is a bittersweet gift.



Dear Diary,

It’s dark and bitterly cold. The nights drag on and on but try as I might I can think of nothing but the lurking in the darkness. They tell us not to fear. That it will be alright. A hero is coming brave and full of might. I swallow my fear like a child who hides his face under the covers. It must be close to morning. My eyes try to adjust to the new coming light. Once again I have made it through the night. I can not say the same for dear Fredrick. The beast snuck away with him the night before last. It’s as if I somehow heard the stealthy footsteps of the beast. They haunt my dreams. I hear what I believe is Fredrick’s howls and screams in my dreams. I haven’t slept a wink. It’s almost time for the guests to be coming down to break our fast. The king plans to have a meeting. A right decent one that will address all the matters that plague our poor kingdom. For now I must bid you adieu dear diary for my place lies in the kitchen cooking and the day’s duties of bread baking and fetching water are calling to me. My mind is screaming to be occupied to not think about the ghastly things done to my dear friend.