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Writing Across the Modes Collection ECI 509, Integrating Writing and Technology

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Student Name: Natalie Whitney Instructions: Throughout the course, students should insert their various pieces of writing into this template, until all of the required pieces of writing are complete. Students may embed any images onto the template that go with a given piece of writing. At the beginning of the course, students will create an Issuu account, upload this document into their account, then embed the Issuu document on their Weebly portfolio page. Throughout the course as new pieces of writing are added to the template (in Word), students will need to reload this Word doc into their Issuu account, then the updates will automatically be reflected on their Weebly page.

Part I. Expository Writing My 1-2 Page Reflection About Expository Writing Insert Here My Scribe Report Scribe Report July 19 By: Natalie Whitney We’re Here! We have all made it across the pond to England… well some of us! It is our first day of class at the University of Surrey and Bret from Surrey Health and Safety came to welcome us. He told us all about his responsibilities here on the campus and how to deal with fires. He explained the differences between water, CO2, and foam extinguishers and where they and the fire exits are located around campus. 3 big takeaways: if it’s an electrical fire don’t use the water extinguisher, call 333 for campus security and always follow the green-lit signs pointed to the door to get out if it’s a real emergency! He also warned that we might hear fire alarms going off frequently, and most likely it’s the Italian and Spanish kids who are here for camp breaking the glass and setting off the alarms. Before departing Bret told us about the University’s Sports Plex where they have an Olympic sized swimming pool and state-of-the-art fitness center accessible to students (see Mike for passes). After bidding Bret thank you and good-bye Amy read Justin’s a.m. scribe report from the previous class session and Laura recited her report, which she composed into an awesome poem. Ruie then took to the front praising our expository writings, saying they were “great reads” and she could see “cream-of-the-crop” writers were in her midst, but mentioned she did notice the frequent use of “weasel words.” She tagged each paper with a Shakespeare insult sticker on the front and told us not to take it personal. She then asked us all what did we wish we had brought with us that we didn’t and preceded to show us how she thought she brought a pair of Tevas but instead only brought the right foot from two separate pairs! Kevin was up next and gave a brief overview of Pinterest, how to use it and encouraged us to start posting to the boards immediately. Curtis who had gotten adrift traveling from a small


country called “Dorm” arrived just as Kevin was wrapping up and Ruie began introducing us to Bio Poems, which we worked on independently, and then shared out with the class. While sharing our poems Justin let us in to his softer and sexier side, Sarah Lee reflected on how quickly things can change over time, Ruie thought justice would be served with all thin people suffered, and many of us had a common theme of wanting a long overdue raise in our poems. Kevin introduced our next assignment using Google Maps that we would be working on throughout our stay here in England, pinning places and events on a map and annotating them with a picture. He recommended using Flikr to host your photographs to use for attaching html images to your map. By next class we are required to have at least 10-15 pins on our maps. Since the passing of Gareth’s family friend would not allow him to be here with us, he created a video about the history and significance of pubs here in England. The video covered the 3 types of pubs: ale house, tavern, and inn, various types of gatherings and activities that happened at each type, and the decline of pubs across England over time. The video will be posted to Moodle. Finally what better way than to end a discussion about pubs, than our final assignment of the day; go forth ye students of ECI 509 and venture to the local pubs of Guildford. Learn the history of each pub, eat well, and drinketh to your heart’s desire! One-Sentence Summary Beginning with a 8 hour flight across the Atlantic, the NCSU study abroad trip presented many opportunities to travel all over England, visit historic sites and gardens and ended in a development of our writing and integrating technology skills so that we may be excellent 21st Century teachers. Summary Paragraph The Tate Modern

The Tate Modern is a modern art museum in London. Created from an old Bankside power station purchased by the Tate Britain 1994, the modern art museum was born. A design contest was held to see who could design the best structure for the museum. The winners, instead of demolishing the old building, decided to work with the current structure and create their design around it. The original steel structure, exposed brickwork, and massive oil tanks add to the funk of the museum. It’s located near the London Bridge. Entering the building is like walking into a piece of modern art taken from one of the Tate’s own galleries. Open glass shops, angled escalators, and sculptured black and acrylic sinks in the ladies rooms all put the modern in this Tate museum. 1st Additional Expository Writing (see Moodle for description of additional expository writings)


The Cricket on the Hearth is third in a Christmas series of writings by Charles Dickens. Everyone is quite familiar with his first A Christmas Carroll, then he wrote Chimes, and third he wrote this little tale. Even though included in his Christmas series, this tale doesn’t take place around Christmas time or mention it at all, but the family, love, and storyline fit nicely into books of that season. The underlining theme of this tale is that of love. Not Fifty Shades of Gray or any other modern tale of love and lust, but that of pure, unadulterated love. The love that people used to feel once upon a time ago. You are witness to the love between the main character and his much younger wife, a love of a father for his daughter, and a love so strong that it can withstand war, and is always destined to come back to be reunited. It is a very short but sweet tale and a must for any true “Dickens Disciple”.

Any true Dickens fan loves A Christmas Carroll. Many of the characters and themes here are reminiscent of that tale. The villain, Mr. Tackleton, a toymaker trying to force a young woman marry him, even though her heart is not in it, is similar to Ebenezer Scrooge in how he begins a villain and by the end of the tale is magically transformed into a gentleman and benefactor. Like poor sweet tiny Tim, this story has a blind girl, who lives with her father and believes in the good in everyone, and that she is surrounded by beautiful and wonderful things that she cannot see. Where there are ghosts at Christmas, the cricket has replaced them in this tale. At the end they are both filled with the “Christmas miracle” and a happily ever after for all.

The tale begins with Dickens painting a picture of a poor but rich with ‘love’ couple, John and Dot, and a magical cricket that sits upon the hearth; its music and presence are supposedly good luck. We this luck plays out later in the tale. The cricket also represents Dickens’ supernatural element that is so common in his other Christmas tales, although present, it is not as strong as we see it in his others in the Christmas series. The family has a young child and a teenage nanny who is all out of sorts, and must’ve been written in for the comic relief. Caleb, a poor father, who is the sole provider for his blind daughter, has convinced her that they live in wonderfully comfortable home, that in reality is actually poor and shabby, and that the villain of the story, Tackleton, is actually a sweet, kind and caring man; again another fallacy. Other lovers in this tale are a young woman, who is to be married off to old Mr. Tackleton, and a mysterious old traveler, which our main character, John, has picked up while delivering his packages and gave shelter to in his home. Tackleton suggests infidelity by Dot with the traveller, who is really a young man. The husband overcome with grief believing his wife to have been unfaithful and posing to do something harmful is actually shown the truth by the cricket and saves their family. The traveller actually is the long lost lover of the young woman set to marry Tackleton soon. He has come back hoping his darling has waited for him during his long absence. In the end they are reunited, Caleb reveals the truth to his daughter Bertha about their poverty conditions and Tackleton’s character, John and Dot are happy, and Tackelton comes bearing gifts and joins their party; another Dickens happy ending. I would only recommend reading this tale because you are in fact Dickens Disciples, are you not? And we do read and appreciate him, as one of the greatest authors, even if we cannot say the


same for all his works, do we not? This tale being so short leaves little room for character development and a meaty plot. Laced with his typical wordiness, it may be easily unclear as it’s meaning to some and require a send read. There are a lot of characters introduced in such a small tale and could be easily confused when recalling their roles and significance to the overall plot. It is subtitled A Fairytale of Home, a title befitting to the nature of it. It is simple in nature and would not be a repeat read for entertainment for me, but could definitely see giving it as a gift to a young teenage reader as an introduction to Dickens and to what love is actually should resemble. I would certainly say it’s a classic, but does not rank with the quality and heart of A Christmas Carroll.

2nd Additional Expository Writing (see Moodle for description of additional expository writings) (Composed Reflection) A Reflection of Hope

Wednesday July 31, 2013

Today we visited the G.F. Watts gallery in Surrey. I’m double excited as I am still on my art ‘high’ from my recent solo trip to the Tate Modern. I was excited to have a group trip to an art gallery because I believe that art can speak volumes to everyone’s soul, no matter your age, color, or culture. Art needs no translation it is universal as a smile or hope. Again I’m excited, though I do not know his name or talent except through brief research in my room last night. There I see that he is the only artist with a gallery of his own. How great do you have to be to have your own national gallery in your own name? Awesomeness. My hopes are high before even walking up the path past the tearoom and gift shop to the lawn where benches with heart cutouts stand guard at the edges. Upon approaching the entrance, there is a door on the left, which does not seem to lead anywhere at all but is inscribed with a painting and the words “The utmost for the highest.” What does it mean? I hope that I would find out, but learned nothing other than it was his motto. Our tour guide is awesome she takes us in the first room and tells about G.F Watts and his past. She shows us the paintings of his first wife and his adopted daughter. She then shows us his other artwork and briefly explains a few paintings here and there and quickly moves us along. I hope that we will have extra time at the end to go back and visit and reflect on the art. I am enjoying the art in the gallery and immediately am stopped as I see a painting that feels so familiar and I cannot turn away. I know I have seen this but I cannot remember where or the name. The tour guide introduced the painting Hope. She simply says its


inspired people al over the world and even President Obama and I feel as I must know more about this painting that built the platform for THE campaign that changed the hope of an entire generation. I complete the walk of the gallery with the group and then as the tour is over Dr. Oliver tells me that the bus isn’t coming until later, so I have plenty of time to peruse if I wish. I instantly walk back through the gallery wanting to understand what this painter, this messenger; this symbolic mastermind is trying to tell me in each one of his works. I make my way all the way back around and I come back to Hope. What is hope? By definition hope is to desire with expectation of obtainment, to expect with confidence. Hope is depicted by Watts as a female allegorical symbol as she sits upon a globe plucking her last harp string when all overs have failed and broke. Even after leaving I need to know more about Watts. I spend the afternoon reading my selections purchased from the gift shop and exploring the gallery’s website, link-bylink, page-by-page. Hope is said to have inspired many people around the world. Hope is said to have been with Nelson Mandela while imprisoned unjustly during apartheid rule. When Egypt was defeated by Israel in war, Egyptian leaders distributed Hope to troops. Hope was there in a contradictions lecture given by Dr. Sampson in Virginia where Reverend Jeremiah Wright was in attendance. Hope inspired Rev. Wright to create a sermon on hope in 1990 where a man named Barack Obama was in attendance and was inspired by the ‘audacity of hope’ speech so much he created a platform on which he would run for the president of the United States, win, and give hope to an entire generation. How powerful is Watts to have created a movement of hope here, so miles and generations away from where he was? I was so inspired by this entire day that I went back and watched an earlier speech from President Obama on hope. I began to reflect on my own hope. What is it that I was hoping for? Also as a teacher am I dong my best to inspire my students to have hope for the future. Yes, I do believe that I have instilled in them that even when all seems lost, when the world is crazy around you, when your father is never there to tell you he loves you, and when the last teacher said you can’t do and won’t be anything, hope is always there. My hope is to live every day with no regrets and that my family and friends continue to be healthy and successful. I found this quote from a letter written to G.F. Watts that he kept. I wonder how many others this rings true for.

“I do not know you, nor have I ever seen the face of him who gave me my ‘Hope,’ but I thank God for the chance of that day when it came to me in my sore need.”


Part II. Poetic Writing My 1-2 Page Reflection About Poetics Writing Insert Here Where I’m From Poem Where I’m From

I’m from Sunday school verses Recited in socks topped in lace, Jesus On The Mainline Where children knew their place.

I’m from the home of the shrimp festival Shrimp Prince, and Shrimp Queen Parades, shrimp soup, fried shrimp, broiled shrimp Essentially Bubba Gumps dream.

I’m from press n’ combs on the hot stove Shirley Temple curls down my neck Iron pressed undies Instead of hell, we said heck!

I’m from Manwhiches and Icee cups Grits, eggs, and sardines Spamburger hamburgers, And you better eat dem greens.


I’m from hanging out with the boys Toes buried in the sand Fishing with my Colonel Slick minnows in my hands.

I’m from a swing set that creaks Better not swing too high Marine Corps Bases Watching their planes fly by.

I’m from albums of faces, Most of them I haven’t met From polaroid pictures, Shake, shake, see what you get.

I’m from mom and dad Lorena and Mack. I know they’re relieved I kept on the right track! Poems Created in Class with Dr. Buckner Frame Poem: My Daddy

If I were to see him From a mile away, I’d know so quickly, That it would be him


The long fishing pole Squishy Sneads Ferry sneakers Stained with seaweed and dried sand. If I were to feel hands on my head, I’d know that those were his hands Long, heavy, Fish scales and salt crystals Lining each hand If I heard his voice Coming from a rock, I’d know, And his words would command all who were near Calling fish to his line Like the famous magic pipe

Frame Poem (without frame): Dad

A large dark shadow in tall white boots Squishy and stained from seaweed and sand Long heavy hands Lined in glistening fish scales and Dried salt crystals A voice so commanding yet calm enough To call the fish to his line Like the magic piper himself It can only be he whom I call dad


Mama D

Natural as grass and trees Floor length skirts miles from her knees Enters stage under gleaming lights Bring African Folklore to life.

Winter and Summer

Winter things are beautiful!

Summer things are beautiful!

A playground washed in white

A spark of charcoal lighting dinner

Indigo dyed jeans tucked in designer boots

A teeny weeny polka dot bikini

Sounds of bells and children laughing

Sun reflecting on a colossal mirror

Snowman and wife united once more

School bell is the sound of freedom

Crackling fires, embers ablaze

Waves foaming like a rabid beast

Bio Poem About Self Natalie Creative, nurturing, and independent, Sibling of Reggie, Michael, and Aleshia, Lover of family bonds, spirituality, and omnipresent friends, Who feels delight when teaching, passionate for civil and human rights, and anger when noneducators make the decisions for our future generations, Who needs challenges to stay engaged, love from those close to my heart, and shoes; lots of them, every color, every style, doesn’t matter


Who gives 100% in everything I do, love and compassion for those who often don’t feel worthy, and time to those deserving, Who fears snakes, losing loved one before their time, and not making a difference in each child whose path I cross Who would like to see the look on the males faces as Queen Hatsheput took the throne, peace among all mankind, and a meeting of the minds between Malcolm X, Obama, Ghandi, and Dr. King Resident of Morrisville; Keystone Park Drive Whitney

1st Additional Poetic Writing (see Moodle for description of additional poetic writings) Sense poem (Prezi of poem on Weebly page) England Is like Seeing a painting come to life. Tasting fish and chips. Smelling burning tobacco. Hearing the chimes of cathedral bells. Feeling no reason to rush.

2nd Additional Poetic Writing (see Moodle for description of additional poetic writings) Historical Bio Poem Jane Classic, unique, brilliant,


Sibling to 7 brothers and only 1 sister, Lover of family, poetry, and the security of the familiar, Who feels enjoyment in amusing her loved ones, content in her societal niche, powerful while possessing the pen, Who needs the intimacy of family, candy wrappers to compose, and the entitlement of the first great female writer, Who gives us unparalleled comic irony, perfect novels, and a look inside country-gentry life, Who fears being caught writing anything of substance, being homeless forever, and losing her passion for prose, Who would like to see her name as the author, age 42, and her inscription giving her accomplishments praise. Stephenton to Bath Homeless to Chawton Austen


Part III. Expressive Writing My 1-2 Page Reflection About Expressive Writing Insert Here All About Me

Myself (Adjectives that describe me)

Independent, creative, nurturing

My Strengths

Technology, leadership, advocacy

My Weaknesses

a Shoe Sale, Big Heart, Target $1 Spot

Who or What Do I Love? Family, God, my students, friends, Winnie-the-Pooh, sushi, Pirate’s Booty

What Makes Me Sad?

People who don’t vote, neglected children, a lost generation, people lacking self-advocacy


What Makes Me Angry?

Bad parents, Racism, Ignorance, Non educators making the laws for educators

What Do I Need?

Nourishment, Challenges, Love, Spirituality

What Do I Give?

100% in everything I do, Love and compassion, Time and energy

What Do I Fear?

Snakes, Losing loved ones before their time, Not making a difference

What Would I Like to See?

The Pyramids, The Coliseum, World Peace

Who Would I Like to See?

Ghandi, Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., Malcolm X,


Design A Room I’m awakened from by the touch of Apollo’s beams permeating my room. With outstretched limbs, I stretch as though making angels in a field of white snow; while dew on the pane is the only clock I require. I find comfort as I am cloaked with layers of Egyptian, engulfed in petite clouds, still warm from the evening’s rest. I gaze upon nature’s portrait; I see that life has returned to my terrace. Feathered friends once again emerge, multiplied in numbers since the frost’s initial kiss; the air transformed with the aroma of fresh blooms. Winter’s tyranny has diminished; new buds lift upwards, giving praise to the sun.

My eyes then wander around my pristine surroundings, white planks reminiscent of salty piers line each wall dissolving into the rich mahogany floors and extending upwards towards a capacious portal to the heavens above. I lay there watching the clouds parade by, each one transformed by my imagination. Column posters imprison me and ivory guards stand at each side of my bed keep close all things I hold dear. To my left a vase is positioned, nourishing roses whose succulent scents ensnare me with every breath. Their petals fall softly to the floor seeking independence from the snow-white blossoms in which they were born. A cup of chai tea rests upon my right; warm, succulent, and aromatic. Its fragrance fills my nostrils with each sip, slowly, enveloping and transporting me to spice markets in Dubai.

I step down upon a sheepskin rug, comforting my feet with every step until I reach my chaise. I collapse and dissolve into the creases of its crisp leather structure and reach for the controller. Secretly posing as a giant mirror, with one press, the screen is brought to life, I am the maestro of this harmonious orchestra, let the concert commence! Moments pass and I hear deep and sensuous voice calling for me, from my en suite echoing through the marble floors. I journey pass closets shown as mini boutiques lined with clothing treasures from the world over. My lavatory is lined in gold and ivory, reminiscent of Versailles. A Victorian clawfoot tub stands center of the room. A bath is drawn, bubbles scented of lavender escaping their aqueous home burst on fixtures touched by Midas himself. I relax and reflect on how fortunate I am as I watch minuscule rainbows project all around by the overhead crystal chandelier. There is no other place that I would be than here in my own little palace.

Impressions of England Traveling Through Time: England's History Told Through Transportation at Brooklands Museum Brooklands is the world's first purpose built motor racing circuit. Races were held here for 30 years until WWII, Many world records were set here. Partial Sections of the track are still intact alongside a broad display of world-class racing cars.


At the start of WWII, Brooklands began manufacturing bombers like this Hawker Hurricane. Pilot William 'Billy' Fiske III flew this Hurricane. He was the first American pilot to die in the Allied cause WWII. He joined the Royal Air Force, against American rules and regulations. He died while flying trying to protect the airfield from German attack. He is memorialized at St. Paul’s Cathedral in London. Brooklands hosts the London Bus Museum on its grounds. Here you will find buses from the early Victorian horse-drawn buses to a 1979 Titan, which resembles the buses you see travelling the streets of London today. All of the buses here are functional and many have appeared in movies and TV shows like Downton Abbey and Nanny McPhee. Here a volunteer shows us how to start the engine! Super sonic flight was made possible when the Concorde was created. This aircraft was the 2nd only produced and the first in the UK. The Concorde cut travelled time by at least half but cost 30,000 to fly on. After France made the first in 1969, England invested millions to create their own. It flew until its retirement in 2003 because of cost in maintenance and fuel. Restoration Through a preservation trust and donations from transportation lovers all over the world, Brooklands continues to restore and reconstruct the pivotal pieces that have shaped the English transportation we see today. Most of the workers at Brooklands are volunteers who are passionate about sharing their knowledge and love of British Transportation and truly made this experience a great one. Post Cards Home A Day in the Life Buses

Wood floors, colorful, sophisticated, Transporting, cranking, restoring, Aroma of old musty leather, Strolling the streets like a bobby on patrol, Smokiness of a freshly rolled cigarette,


Staircase, conductor, engine, Velvety Moquette upholstery, Knights of the road, Ringing of the stop cord bell, Longstanding, significant, remarkable.

1st Additional Expressive Writing (see Moodle for description of additional expressive writings) Duologue

(The train stops at Waterloo Station. Time is about half past 6.)

Tourist: Whew I made it.

(Tourist gets on a crowded train; only seat open near entrance is in-between Local and another aisle passenger)

Tourist: May I squeeze in here please?

(With bags in hand and butt in the aisle passenger’s face, Tourist takes a seat in the middle)

Tourist: Thank you. Is this the right train to Guildford without all the extra stops?

(Aisle passenger ignores question and continues to read his paper)


Local: All the trains are going to be longer today. There has been an accident where someone fell onto the tracks.

Tourist: Oh No! That’s crazy, did they die, and I hope they’re all right, did they get there in time to save him or her, and did someone push them? Wow, that’s really sad! I couldn’t have watched that happen!

(Aisle passenger looks really annoyed and shuffles his newspaper loudly)

Local: I’m not sure of the details exactly. I only saw it flash while waiting for the train at the station after leaving work. They say it was an accident, but some do this to die at times, so I can’t be for certain.

Tourist: That’s super sad.

(Local doesn’t seem phased or alarmed)

Local: You certainly aren’t from around here, so where are you from, California?

Tourist: No, far from Cali, I’m from North Carolina. It’s on the East coast of the United States, wherein, California is on the West. You all must get a lot of tourists from California, everyone always asks if we’re from there when we say we’re from the US.

Local: I know the whereabouts of North Carolina, small state, not like New York though.

Tourist: Certainly nothing like New York, have you been to New York?

Local: Yes, I have traveled there several times for business. Great city, it’s much like London.

Tourist: I quite enjoy New York too! It’s funny that in many ways I guess it is like London with people everywhere and various food places on every street. I hadn’t thought about it.


Local: So how did you end up here?

Tourist: I am a teacher and I won a scholarship that allowed me to travel with other teachers here to study integrating technology and writing at the University of Surrey.

Local: What have you done other than study?

Tourist: We have been traveling all across England. We’ve gone to see a few sites for British Authors. And of course I have been to some of the typical tourist sites in London, Nottingham, markets in Camden, I rode the London Eye, and been getting lots of exercise walking all over town here and in Guildford.

Tourist: You guys stay so small because of all the walking here, don’t you?

(Local chuckles)

(Tourist catches glimpse of local’s teeth, which are less that appetizing, quickly tries to look away so seem less obvious of looking)

(Aisle Passenger shuffles paper last time, folds it, and exits at Clapham Junction stop)

Tourist: I think he wasn’t happy I was sitting near him.

Local: He’ll be fine. We do enjoy walking from place to place. It’s quite a nice convenience, but not everyone is small here. My wife is comfy!

(Local chuckles again)

(Tourist laughs too; thinking comfy is a nice word for big-boned, thick, or fat)


Tourist: Getting around is so nice here. I would love to be able to walk to a train stop and go into work everyday, or ride the Tube. We don’t use public transportation very often in North Carolina. There are city buses, but no trains like here.

(Tourist and passenger are quite for some time)

(Tourist retrieves writing notebook from bag and turns to page titled “Free Day Options”)

(Local glances over while tourist is writing)

Local: How much longer will you be here in England?

Tourist: We have a few more days left. I’m trying to figure out what I want to do with my last free day. I was considering going to Portsmouth. I hear it’s on the coast, maybe get some fresh seafood there.

Local: Portsmouth is not an attractive place.

(Tourist feels crushed)

Tourist: Really? Not an attractive beach community?

Local: No. If you fancy Naval ships as attractive then yes. If you want to see nice shorelines and activities I would recommend Bournemouth. There’s a nice theater near on the pier and the Shelley family is buried there at St. Peter’s.

Tourist: Shelley, Like Mary Shelley who wrote Frankenstein?

(Local nods)


Where else might you recommend near the shore?

Local: Brighton is on shoreline. It’s nice for some. They are very gay.

(Tourist makes puzzle face? Wondering if he means gay like happy)

Tourist: Do you mean they are very happy people? I’ve met a lot of nice people around here as well.

(Local furrows brows)

Local: No, do you not know Gay in North Carolina?

Tourist: Oh you mean gay, like men on men, women on women, and maybe some dogging?

(Local bursts into laughter)

Local: Yes, dogging there, I am sure.

Tourist: I only recently heard the term dogging and definition when our bus driver told my professor that sign was for a park where lots of dogging happens. Strange term, but yet probably very representative of what actually happens in that situation.

(Local just smiles and nods)

Local: This stop is mine. I hope you enjoy the rest of your trip. Best of luck. Cheers.


Tourist: Maybe I’ll do some research on both towns and decide which one I would rather visit. Thank you so much, it was so nice to have met you. Cheers!

(Train stops at Woking; Local gets off with black briefcase) (Tourist is all alone now. Returns to writing in notebook until reaching the Guildford platform.) 2nd Additional Expressive Writing (see Moodle for description of additional expressive writings) My Spontaneous Sensory Monologue jotting turned into a day in the life poem

England

Historic dwellings encircled with flora, Summoning, preserving, and aging. Soupçons of tobacco, as each tourist passes Like a long lost sibling Smoothness of strawberry ale, brewed locally or on site. Castles, monarchs, and ghosts, Solid, yet soft, hearth made of chalk A portal back in time Holy bells resounding across the bridge,


Calm, timeworn, edifying. Gules with triplet lions passant guardant Commuting, servicing, transforming The calming aroma of lavender with a hint of diesel, Like a rose grown from concrete. Rainbow colored faces, all speaking with the “King’s” tongue Tang of rocket strewed upon fresh made pasta, Trains, pence, and cobblestone Coldness of an open crypt encompassing the past A photo from a Neolithic album A creaky door shielding her writing, Gothic, picturesque, and royal.


Weebly issuu (final)