Oh, how the tables have turned! Macbeth 5.5.16

She should have died here after;

There would have been a time for such a word.

Tomorrow, and Tomorrow, and Tomorrow

Creeps in this petty paste from day to day

To the last syllable of recorded time,

And all our yesterdays have lighted fools

The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle!

Life’s but a walking shadow, a poor player

That struts and frets his hour upon the stage

And then is heard no more: It is a tale

Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,

Signifying nothing.


Wow. What a guilty conscience Macbeth has now. He has gone from having no remorse in his actions, to some, and now, at this point, he is completely remorseful, begging to start over. I think at this point Macbeth sees his life and all he has done as pointless. His past as snowballed into this big ball that has wrecked Macbeth, emotionally and physically. This last line, “It is a tale / Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, / Signifying nothing”, tells me the most about how Macbeth is feeling and really stood out to me. Here, Macbeth tells the audience that life is dramatic and idiotic without and without any meaning at all. This is a big indication that Macbeth has given up; given up with the throne, now that he has finally gotten there, and with his life. Oh, how the tables of Macbeth’s greed and want have turned.


But Who Are You?

I am the new season that is formed where glimmering

beauty of winter meets the softer heats of summer.

I am the curve of your smile

and the curve of your spine.

The echoes, silence,

patience and grace on Sunday

I am what people do with their hands

when their favorite song is playing

The ambiance of the silence in

between the breaks of the beat.

I am the girl that will always

take care of anyone, always.

I am a complex mind

with quite simple desires.

Now tell me,

Who are you?

Remember When? New Take On Ghazals


I remember when I knew you’d go, so I inhaled your words;

Shorts gasps clasp only slivers of your love, the pieces that you trailed behind as you left.


I remember when you said we would never end. But love,

I knew better. And you changed, parallel to the new season.


I remember when we’d sit as my eyes stared into oblivion,

Reaching you from so far. I would slip away, like you. And you carried me off.


I remember when you said you’d always stay here for me

Never leaving, even when I told you a billion times: “I’m okay, I’m okay”.


And in the break of night, I remember when I welcomed

Your calm, soothing voice. I remember the words that plagued the soft tone.


But one thing I can’t remember is a time where you didn’t

Intrigue me, entice me. Two times the strength of the moon along the tides.

“…time did not occur to God.” A Still Moment Reflexion

Great White Heron

As I have interpreted, A Still Moment, by Eudora Welty I have picked out many little examples of symbolism that I do not think the author has intended. Funny how things work between an author and their reader! This particular short story has a good amount to tell us about who we are as humans due to the fact that it indeed does have much symbolism. Symbolism is something we can relate to and understand easier than simply taking what was written and comprehending that. The story starts and tells us of a very religious man named Lorenzo. He soon encounters his opposite, James Murrell, an outlaw, who believes in some sense he is, in fact, the Devil. The trifecta of characters is completed when artist and curious student Audubon comes into our picture in Old Natchez Trace. From these three personalities we are able to see the good, bad, and evil, per say. This shows us a lot about human nature, in the sense of whom we will meet along this journey of life. It also shows us how humans are inclined to believe and practice specific ways. Not everyone has to, necessarily, believe the same thing and when we get difference of beliefs we get opinions. From this point on we start to understand what we can learn about ourselves. Audubon, wanting to study, sketch and paint a certain white heron, kills this beautiful creature. While this is happening, Lorenzo, who has had some instantaneous love connection with the bird, sees what Audubon has done and becomes sad, almost depressed. This feeling of depression comes from Lorenzo’s vision of the female bird as the love of God, something dear to his heart. Murrell, the “bad” in this story, who had planned to kill Lorenzo until Audubon unexpectedly arrived, also watched Audubon kill the innocent bird. Murrell had the intentions of killing these people but seeing the death of this bird caused him to think about this new feeling of innocence. This shows us how even the “bad” or people who may not have our same views still are capable of showing the same emotions as we are, like innocence with Murrell and compassion with Lorenzo. Maybe the biggest example of the knowledge about humans we get from short stories comes from the last two pages of this story; this is also the part of the story that captured my FULL attention and I connected on a different level with. As Lorenzo rides away he thinks to himself, “He could understand God’s giving Separateness first and then giving Love to follow and heal in its wonder; but God had reversed this, and given Love first and then Separateness, as though it did not matter to Him which came first. Perhaps it was that God never counted the moments of Time… Time did not occur to God.” This to me is the most crucial aspect of the story, in terms of the relationship of short stories and us as humans. We learn here that Lorenzo tried to reassure himself that God was there and that God had never thought of time before. This means that he tried to defend inhumanity and lack of compassion in the world to save God from being unaware of what had happened (or in other words ignorance). What does this mean in the connection between stories and us? In a lot of ways, we shelter our friends, or family, or anyone from the reality of a situation. It can be harmful and while Lorenzo is simply looking out for God, this is still something humans do daily. This tells us human nature is always faced with adversity and temptation and we have to overcome it everyday.

Poem: Poetry

Poetry is not published in a book

Or scribbled in a journal

It is not composed of strict meter & rhyme

Stanza & structure

Assonance & alliteration

Poetry is nature

Poetry is non-sequitur

Poetry is the way our lips move

Intertwined like grapiary vines

With grace and determination

That is simply divine.

Poetry is the way you wake up on

A lazy summer Sunday morning

And listen to the heartbeat of your lover

Laying not too far away

Poetry is the compassion and selfless desire

That causes us to buy meals for strangers

And tip extra just for the hell of it

Poetry is the fact that each one of us is another

Infinitely random manifestation of the universe

Attempting to understand itself

Through convoluted cosmic introspection

Poetry is the way wise winds blow

Softly through the tress

Whispering secrets to anyone who wishes

To hear.

Poetry is the way the river lovingly

Embraces each and every pebble to the

Riverbed like a mother holds her newborn


Poetry is organic.

These words are not poetry

Life is poetry, death is poetry, we are poetry.