Brothers,
You have three options so as to guarantee the peaceful fate of this Viking-land we call Central Catholic. Should you choose to accept one or the other, know that the task is of epic proportions; the destiny of Oakland rests on your shoulders. You must choose to live despite the reality of your own mortality--by doing so, you are worthy of the highest praise and the greatest of elegiac sympathies. The surmountable obstacles are as follows:
OPTION ONE:
Choose any passage of at least 20 lines from the epic Beowulf and recreate it, using your own words, your own, modern-day idiom to spice things up. Be sure to type in the original, line-for-line, before transliterating it into your own dialect.
OPTION TWO:
Imitate the alliterative style of at least 20 lines from the epic Beowulf and recreate the passage using your own subject matter (as we did with the imitation of The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde). Be sure to type the original, line-for-line, before imitating it with your own subject matter in place of the original.
OPTION THREE:
Choose any passage of at least 20 lines from the epic Beowulf and create a "spin-off" passage in which your write 20 lines of your own verse that extend the story as you see fit. Be sure to type the original, line-for-line, before spinning-off of it into a fiction of your own (using, of course, characters and themes from the poem itself).
This is due TUESDAY (10.02.07) by class time. Remember to head your submissions with MLA format:
Your Name
Teacher's Name
Subject Number/Section Number
Date Due
In peace,
BRobPeachFSC
8 comments:
Matt Oczypok
Bro. Rob Peach
Brit. Lit. 141 / Sect. 5
10.02.07
The Monster’s Lair, a.k.a. Iraq
Page 49 (lines 429-448)
“With frozen sprays, and wind down snakelike
Roots that reach as far as the water
And help keep it dark. At night that lake
Burns like a torch. No one knows its bottom,
No wisdom reaches such depths. A deer,
Hunted through the woods by packs of hounds,
A stag with great horns, though driven through the forest
From faraway places, prefers to die
On these shores, refuses to save its life
In that water. It isn’t far, nor is it
A pleasant spot! When the wind stirs
And storms, waves splash toward the sky,
As dark as the air, as black as the rain
That heavens weep. Our only help,
Again, lies with you. Grendel’s mother
Is hidden in her terrible home, in a place
You’ve not seen. Seek it, if you dare! Save us,
Once more, and again twisted gold,
Heaped-up ancient treasure, will reward you
For the battle you win!”
“With bullet sprays, and wind across
The barren, desolate sand, the soldiers wait and wish.
At night the desert burns like a torch. No one knows
What’s really going on or what’s going to happen.
A lone contraband, hunted by packs
Of this unbeatable team. A religious warrior, driven
Across oceans, prefers to die. Refuses to save his life,
And dies for his leader, but takes many others with him.
When the wind stirs and noises deafen,
Smoke billows, black as night, darker than rain.
The heavens weep, our only help is us.
We must support our nation’s troops.
Our freedom is at risk. Innocent lives are at risk
In a place we haven’t seen. Seek it if you dare!
Fight for your nation. Freedom is your reward
For the battle you win!”
Charles Destro
Br. Rob Peach
Brit. Lit. 141 / Sect. 5
10/02/07
“The Gaze’s Consequences”
His eyes
gleamed in the darkness, burned with a gruesome
light. Then he stopped, seeing the hall
crowded with sleeping warriors, stuffed
with rows of young soldiers resting together.
And his heart laughed, he relished the sight,
Intended to tear the life from those bodies
By morning; the monster’s mind was hot
With the thought of food and the feasting his belly
Would soon know. But fate, that night, intended
Grendel to gnaw the broken bones
Of his last human supper. Human
Eyes were watching his evil steps,
Waiting to see his swift hard claws.
Grendel snatched at the first Geat
He came to, ripped him apart, cut his body to bits with powerful jaws,
Drank the blood from his veins and bolted
Him down, hands and feet; death
And Grendel’s great teeth came together,
Snapping life shut.
His gaze
Shot through the darkness, burning with a gruesome
light. Then he froze, glaring at the hall
Filled with juicy sleeping warriors, packed
with rows of young ripe soldiers resting together.
And he laughed to himself, he loved the sight,
Intended to tear the limbs and heads from those soldiers
By morning; the monster’s mind was eager
With the thought of food and the manifesting itself inside his belly.
But destiny, that night, intended
Grendel to crush and grind the broken bones
Of his last human supper within his teeth. Human
warriors were watching his deadly steps,
Waiting to see his swift razor claws.
Grendel pounce at the first Geat
He came to, ripped him apart, sliced his body to lunch meat with snapping jaws,
Sucked the life from his veins and bolted
Him down, hands and feet; death
And Grendel’s great teeth came together,
Snapping life shut.
Shane Conway
Bro.Rob Peach
431-05 Period 6
10/2/07
The Spin-off
Grendel came again, so set
On murder that no crime could ever be enough.
No savage assault quenched his lust
For evil. Then each warrior tried
To escape him, searched for rest in different
Beds, as far from Herot as they could find
Seeing how Grendel hunted when they slept
Distance was safety; the only survivors
Were those who fled him. Hate had triumphed
So Grendel ruled, fought with the righteous,
One against many, and won; so Herot
Stood empty, and stayed deserted for years,
Twelve winters of grief for Hrothgar , king
Of the Danes, sorrow heaped at his door
By hell-forged hands. His misery leaped
The seas, was told and sung in all
Men’s ears: how Grendel’s hatred began,
How the monsters relished his savage war
On the Danes, keeping the bloody feud
Alive, seeking no peace, offering
No truce, accepting no settlement, no price
In gold or land, and paying the living
For one crime only with another. No one
Waited for reparation form his plundering claws:
That shadow of death hunted in the darkness,
Stalked Hrothgar’s warriors, old
And young, lying in waiting, hidden
In mist, invisibly following them from the edge
Of the marsh, always there, unseen. (ii 50- 75)
Grendel came again so set,
On killing again. Believing that this
Would be another easy night
For murder. No peace offer, no land,
No gold, or any treasure could convince him
To stop. After all these consecutive losses in
Herot life, no one wanted to be near him
At night for the threat of being killed.
With the continued loss of friends he hired
Beuwolf to protect him at night. Beuwolf was
Friends of Herot and Hrothgar so he did this
For no cost. After three long days with no threat
To Herot at night Beuwolf decided that he
Would no longer stay up all night watching
For Grendel. He agreed to continue to stay
In his hall. Grendel knew all this he followed
Herot all day in the shadows. For two more days
There were killings but no sight of Grendel
Near Herot at night. Grendel was contemplating to
Kill Beuwolf in his sleep, or should he try
To get pass him and kill Herot. He decided
To try to kill Herot, so that night he crept
Into Herot’s hall right before he put his
Deadly claws to his throat when Beuwolf
Grabbed Grendel from behind and began
To choke him with all strength. But Grendel
Was to strong and tossed him to the ground
And clawed to death Beuwolf. With all this
Noise Herot woke up and saw all that happened
And knowing his life was to end he toke a
Dagger and slit his throat. Grendel still
Clawed him to make sure. He took
Over the kingdom as king and made
Them all the people his slaves. He brought other demons
To help him control it. With him and the demons
Controlling the nation they went into a depression
And he eventually made that nation go instinct.
Grendel and the demons went from nation
To nation takeing over until they again all
Became one giant demon again and ruled the
Earth in their own paradise.
Michael Ceoffe
Bro. Robert Peach
Brit. Lit 141/Sect 5
10/02/07
“A Creature's Demise”
“Then he stepped to another
Still body, clutched at Beowolf with his claws,
Grasped at a strong-hearted wakeful sleeper
- And instantly seized himself, claws
Bent back as Beowolf leaned up on one arm.
That shepherd of evil, guardian of crime,
Knew at once that nowhere on Earth
Had he met a man whose hands were harder;
His mind flooded with fear- but nothing
Could take his talons and himself from that tight
Hard grip. Grendel’s one thought was to run
From Beowolf, flee back to his marsh and hide there:
This was a different Herot than the hall he had emptied.
But Hilgac’s follower remembered his final
Boast and, standing erect, stopped
The monster’s flight, fastened those claws
In his fists till they cracked, clutched Grendel
Closer. The infamous killer fought
For his freedom, wanting no flesh but retreat,
Desiring nothing but escape; his claws
Had been caught, he was trapped. That trip to Herot
Was a miserable journey for the writhing monster!
This killer crept to another one of his
Sleeping prey, clutched Beowolf with his
Sharp claws, and seized a strong enemy.
Instantly he knew he had been overcome, his hand
Twisted as Beowolf leaned forward. This follower of
Satan, leader of crime, had known that nowhere in
Any lands had he encountered a man whose hands
Were stronger. His thoughts overwhelmed with
Terror-but nothing could release him from that
Fierce grip. Grendel’s instinct was to escape his
Enemy, flee to his swamp and hide there: Here was a
Different Herot than the one he had tortured before.
But Hilgac’s follower remembered his has last
Boast and, standing his ground, halted the monster’s
Escape, squeezed those claws in his hands until they
Snapped, pulling him closer. The infamous killer
Struggled for his freedom, escaping, not devouring,
Was on his mind. His talons had been captured, he was
Trapped. That hopeful voyage to Herot turned
Out to be a miserable one.
Liam Halferty
Bro. Robert Peach
Brit. Lit. 141-05
October 1, 2007
The Beaten Champion
And for the first time in his career that champion boxer
Fought with his back against the ropes, with no
Glory in him. He knew it, but he raised his to the position
And struck at the opponent’s head.
The famous fists struck, right into
The challenger’s cheekbone, drew blood, but slipped
And failed him before he hit hard enough enough, helped him
Barely at all. The opponent glided
With pain, thrashed and beat at him, throwing
Murderous punches, spreading them everywhere.
And the Heavyweight champion did not boast of glorious
Victories in other fights: his fists
Had failed him, deserted him, now when he needed it
Most, that excellent footwork. Jerry’s
Famous son looked at defeat.
Unable to leave this fight, to change it
To another challenge in some distant place-a journey in the past
Back to the training for this event, as defeat
Ends his undefeated record in the ring.
Quickly, the challenger came at him, encouraged
As the boxer fell back; his breaths became heavier,
And he suffered, tired and beaten
Previously a winner, before, but now
A beaten champion. None of his fans
Were behind him, encouraging him, his faithful and devoted
Fans; they cheered for the new champion, screamed
For the opponent. And only one true fan
Remained, stood there, miserable, embarrassed,
As a good follower must, what being a true fan should mean.
Daniel Schnelbach
Brother Robert Peach
British Literature 141/ Section 5
10 - 2 - 2000 and 7
"The Battle with DSims"
325-345
That shepherd of evil, guardian of crime,
Knew at once that nowhere on earth
Had he met a man whose hands were harder;
His mind flooded with fear-but nothing
Could take his talons and himself from that tight
Hard grip. Grendel's one thought was to run
From Beowulf, flee back to his marsh and hide there:
This was a different Herot than the hall he had emptied.
But Higlac's follower remebered his final
Boast and, standing erect, stopped
The monster's flight, fastened those claws
In his fists till they cracked, clutched Grendel
Closer. The infamous killer fought
For his freedom, wanting no flesh but retreat,
Desiring nothing but escape; his claws
Had been caught, he was trapped. That trip to Herot
Was a miserable journey for the writhing monster!
The high hall rang, its roof boards swayed,
And Danes shook with terror. Down
The aisles the battle swept, angry
And wild.
That shepherd of wackness, guardian of rhyme,
Knew at once that nowhere on earth
Had he met a man whose flow was sicker;
His ears were flooded with fear-but nothing
Could stop him from listening to that tight
Hard freestyle. DSims'one thought was to run
From Schnel, flee back to his crib and cry there:
This was a different classroom than hall he had eaten.
But Peach's follower remembered his final
Bars and, standing tall, stopped
The wackness in his tracks, fastened his will
In his flows till it cracked, clutched DSims
Closer. The infamous killa fought
For his freedom, wanting no bars but retreat,
Desiring nothing but escape; his beat
Had been dropped, he was trapped. That trip to 308
Was a miserable journey for the wacked out monster!
The classroom rang, its flourescent lights swayed,
And students shook with terror. Down
The aisles the rap battle swept, angry
And wild.
Jason Weng
Bro. Rob Peach
Brit Lit 141 section 5
10-2-07
“The Battle with Grendel’s Mother”
(Pg.51 lines 515-542)
Squatting with her weight on his stomach, she drew
A dagger, brown with dried blood, and prepared
To avenge her only son. But he was stretched
On his back, and her stabbing blade was blunted
By the woven mail shirt he wore on his chest.
The hammered links held; the point
Could not touch him. He’d have traveled to the bottom of the earth,
Edgetho’s son, and died there, if that shining
Woven metal had not helped-and Holy
God, who sent him victory, gave judgment
For truth and right, Ruler of the Heavens,
Once Beowulf was back on his feet and fighting.
Then he saw, hanging on the wall, a heavy
Sword, hammered by giants, strong
And blessed with their magic, the best of all weapons
But so massive that no ordinary man could lift
Its carved and decorated length. He drew it
From its scabbard, broke the chain on its hilt,
And then, savage, now, angry
And desperate, lifted it high over his head
And struck with all the strength he had left,
Caught her in the neck and cut it through,
Broke bones and all. Her body fell
To the floor, lifeless, the sword was wet
With her blood, and Beowulf rejoiced at the sight.
Lying with a lineman on his stomach, he drew
A breath, a sigh of despair, and was ready
To finally give up. But his teammates came to him, lifted him
Off his back, and the stabbing pain was blunted
By the burning feeling he had in his heart.
His steel nerves held; the defense
Could not frighten him. He’s traveled this far to the semi-finals,
His team’s leader, and couldn’t stop there, if that line of his
Teammates had not helped-and his
Coach, who sent him to achieve victory, gave the signal
For the kicker. The quarterback would not settle,
Then he was back on his feet and behind center.
Then he saw, up in the stands, the giant
Scoreboard, showing their 3-point deficit, fourth
And seven. With his passion for the game, the best of all players
But so uneven were the odds that no ordinary teenager could lift
His team to victory. He drew the ball
From center, dropped back,
And then scared, now, pressured,
But confident, saw his man downfield
And threw with all the strength and dexterity he had left,
Caught his man right in the hands and in the back
Of the end zone. His body fell
To the ground, dragging his feet. The official was there
With his hands in the air, and the hero smiled at the sight.
John Welch
Bro. Rob Peach
Brit. Lit Section 5
10/2/07
"The high hall rang, its roof boards swayed, and Danes shook with terror. Down the aisles the battle swept, angry and wild. Herot trembled, wonderfully built to withstand the blows, the struggling great bodies beating at its beautiful walls; shaped and fastened with iron, inside and out, artfully worked, the building stood firm. Its benches rattled, fell to the floor, gold-covered boards grating as Grendel and Beowulf battled across them. Hrothgar's wise men had fashioned Herot to stand forever; only fire, they had planned, could shatter what such splendor of ivory and iron and wood. Suddenly the sounds changed, the Danes started in new terror, cowering in their beds as the terrible screams of the Almighty's enemy sang in the darkness, the horrible shrieks of pain."
The High hall rang, its roof boards swang back and forth. And Danes trembled with an emotion of terror. Down the aisles the battle swept, angry and wild. Herot shook involuntarily, wonderfully built to hold out against the blows, the struggling great bodies beating at its beautiful walls; created with iron, inside and out slyly crafty, the building stood firm. Its benches rattled, fell to the floor, gold-covered boards grating as Grendel and Beowulf got it on across them(Yay yayee!). Hrothgar's boys had fashioned Herot to stand forever only fire, they had planned, could shatter what such skill had put together, swallow in hot flames such beastiness of ivory and iron an dwood. SUddenly the sounds changed up, the Danes got scurred (scared) in new terror, punking out in their beds as the terrible Screams of God's enemy sang in teh darkness, the horrible shrieks of pain.
Post a Comment