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March 28, 2024, 09:06:10 pm

Author Topic: English Help  (Read 427 times)

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Sebastian Dunlop

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English Help
« on: February 25, 2020, 02:19:31 pm »
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Hey everybody, I would appreciate some feedback and marking

Development or Decay
I am down on all fours, my nose to the ground and my bottom up. Digging, my pale hands fondle the moist brown earth. My fingers sink deep into the earth. I close my fist and my nails encircle a long squishy creature. With surprise, I raise it up and hold it to the sun. The sheer pink hue of the flesh illuminated by the glow of the sun exposes many tiny segmented bodies resembling corrugated iron. Writhing in my grasp, slipping my grip, swirling in a squirming corkscrew, plummeting downward. Wings a-beating and with an elegant swoop a robin grabs the worm. Flitting off, my eyes follow him as he hops from branch to branch, his jacket of brown contrasting his resplendent waistcoat of red. Perched above his nest, he is a proud father. His brilliant red chest puffed, the robin lowers the worm into the open beaks of his cheeping chicks. The joys of Spring strikes right across my heart, like a violinist his bow. Sitting down beneath a grove of gingkos, I stare aimlessly at the double-lobed, fan-shaped leaves. I am struck by the change these trees have undergone. What is now rich green foliage contrasts the glorious sight during Winter when the delicate flowers turn buttery yellow and fall to form a thick soft carpet. Changing like the coat of an Arctic Fox.

Oh! How nature changes and evolves,
The possibilities in my mind it all dissolves.
Blooming flowers and buzzing bees,
The chirping birds in the trees.
Summer, Winter, Spring and Fall
The warmth, the cold, it has it all.
Life and death, joyfulness and sorrow,
No one can predict what happens tomorrow.
This Park an indulgence to my imagination,
An enchanting land of euphoria and elation.

The wind is a blowing through my hair,
As joyous skipping without a care,
The abundance of aromas soothing my soul,
My heart content, relishing this stroll.
Sunbeams from heaven colour my cheeks,
A visit to the park leaves them dimpled for weeks.
My gaze follows a slender swan across the lake,
A mother duck and a resplendent drake,
As if contrived by God, a wonderful sight,
Such a beautiful creation, a depiction of might.

At the lake’s edge, I gaze down at the glassy smooth surface. My gaze hardens, my eyes adjust allowing me to see through my own distorted reflection. The water now transpicuous reveals a whole new world, enchanting and stupendous. Dressed like police constables in their full suits of black, water beetles scurry in and out of the water weed like burly officers of the law. Small goldfish float about, their tails flowing from them like shimmering ball gowns. Their tiny scales adorn their fiery orange bodies like the jewels on a crown. They glow and sparkle from the reflected light. I am mesmerized. 
A tremendous clap of thunder rocks the heavens. I am woken from my rapturous dream, despairing and despondent like a mother as her son marches off to war. My happy daydream crashing down all around me, my responsibilities drive a wedge between myself and nature. The heavens open drenching me. The surface of the lake ripples like a field of wheat in the Summer breeze. Like my morale, I am damp and soggy. The air is heavy and my heart cold. I shiver clutching at myself expecting warmth from my body, but my heart is cold and does not yield. As I rise to my feet I survey the park like a king does his kingdom. The beautiful lake with willow trees caressing its banks, the grove of Gingkos, the central flowerbed with its array of perennials and the cobblestoned paths and their Buxus adorned flanks snake around like a thousand stone serpents. As my eyes are cast on the main gate of the park, I am reminded that the weather has taken a turn for the worse. My stupor at a sodden end.  I must leave this park, the only place where I feel so much freedom and delectation. A place where my imagination and thoughts can run wild, unhindered and unrestricted. My feet are pounding as is my heart as I rush along the paths towards the great gate. Passing through the mighty pillars I pull my jacket tighter around me and make for the cover of a nearby building.

Shoulders hunched and head hung I trudge along the sidewalk. The concrete is hard under my new sneakers. The air usually sweet after rain is instead overbearing and rancid. The concrete, bricks and mortar are a prison, cold and forbearing. There is no give, no flexibility. This city is oppressing, its car lined sidewalks, its mundane buzz, its absolute restriction. The sense of abhorrence I have for this place rises once again.
My sadness and discontent washes over me like the sea
Why should city life be so boring and lonely for me?
Why do I feel restricted by all that is around?
Will my heart and mind be forever bound?
My imagination in shackles restrained and tethered
leaving my countenance worn and weathered.
It is so ugly with its smog and oppressive buildings
Cleanliness and purity compromised for financial yieldings

Why can’t it be like nature and that beautiful park?
A place where my mind, a vessel does embark
Why do I not feel the same happiness that I feel there?
Maybe it is the noisy roads, dirty sidewalks or foul-smelling air?
Back here in the city It is different, a life with technology
 It facilitates cultural degradation, a study of ecology
Once at home at a console I will sit engrossed in a game,
Societies misery, tis this they should blame.

As my deep cogitation envelops me, I walk under the mellow light of a streetlamp. Impulsively I gaze around, to my surprise I see another boy my age. I recognise his face; it is one of the boys that I play my ‘Star Invader’ game with online. His profile name is ‘Slayerboi’. He looks slightly different from his icon picture, but it is definitely him. He too looks up and spots me staring at him across the street. Our eyes lock, and momentarily we are connected. Yelling out across the street I say, “Good Evening Slayerboi”. He opens his mouth to acknowledge my presence, but the words don’t come. I strain to listen but all I can hear is a few raspy squeals. Thinking his voice had been lost in the thick night air I cross the street. As I approach him, he turns away fumbling for his phone. Nearing him, my pocket vibrates. An unread text. Two letters emanate from the little grey bubble, “Hi”. The obscuring smog engulfs me too.