To the Lady Alice Walker

To whom do you want me to sympathize?
A young girl looking to move her way out
And to forget the arms in which she's cried
A girl with no care, just looking to shout
About the antiquity and art
Of everyday home items
Who tries to runaway and won't do her part
A girl who acts like she can't be frightened?
I cannot like this child who has no pride
In the life she came from, her family
From her family, herself she has pried
Till what they have left is her memory.

Ah, Too Sing America

Ah, Too, Sing America.

Ah know it's been said before.

In the voice of my brother.

And my español speaking sister.

Ah, Too Sing America

With a With a different sounding song.

phonetically-written speech.

Is that really wrong?

Ah want you to hear how we really sound.

Ah say “tuh instead of to

Does that really bother you ?

This is the voice of of African and Caribbean descent

It’s early 20^th century and Ah lead the Harlem Renaissance

So lwer-ower.

Take a look at what that means.

To: Junot Diaz, "Fiesta"

When I first read your story, all I can think about are feelings. Feelings based on, anger, sadness, guilt, and little of happiness. I truly understand the situation involving with this story of yours.
This story is pretty much going through the same problem I use to go through with my family. When I was young, my mother use to take over my life and pushed me to become as a school teacher. Life is just never fair. Fair enough to satisfy you. Too much guilt and anger. Where's happiness when we needed one?Anyways, this story is very interesting. so much drama involving with families. There are some disappointments. For instance the mother. I thought women would know better involving with relationships... I guess not.

I too, sing America

into the sky

Once in a tree
The great Sycorax placed me.
Then freed
But is under by another by thee
Name Prospero
O how I served him and me heart felt cold
Thought i's in a hole
Then, is once again set free.
Now I fly into the sky admiring beauty everywhere
This amazing new feeling I've never before feel,
I think I begin to heal.
Up here, I see the two nowhere,
With pressure no more,
My flight continues.
The breeze blows in me face
How everything is now lovely
And full of grace.
Shouting matches I hear no more,
but the mild wind's song.
Agony I see no more,
But the wonderful blue and white from above
And the grassy green from below.
I'm into the sky relaxing clamly
I go where me soul desire
As I can go anywhere freely.

Misunderstood....

Is it wrong to be different? Does it make you a bad person to stand up for what you think is is right? Sometimes a lost soul is not an indication of a blank mind it is just a matter of being misunderstood. It is not wrong for your children to want more than what you had. Let them challenge the unknown and the people who do not believe in them, for that is what builds strength. Strength and courage and, let's not forget couriousity, is the the backbone of tommorw's leaders. Do not allow yourself to sulk in the should haves and would haves if things were different. Things only change when you make them change. Learn your past, stay in your present and question your future. Do not be passive with your voice. I used to think that those who questioned the out of the "norm" were strange but the truth is they are just misundertood. I wish more people were like that!

I, Too, Sing America!

I really enjoyed Julia Alvarez's poem I, Too, Sing America. Made me think 'bout my own struggles with identity growin' up in America. For land that's 'sposed to be free and equal we sure don't all have the same comin' to us. Makes me think of that horrible man Lindner, who was tryin' to buy me out of my house. I is an American, my Walter worked himself to death for us to get our dream house. I'm proud to be who I am. All I got is how far my family's come in America. I ain't all concerned with my roots like my daughter Beneatha is. Times are changin' tho'. Seems like us colored folks, even woman have more of a voice. I like that Julia Alvarez uses poetry as that voice. She's real great at bringin' together American culture with her own. Readin' her poetry would do some good in helpin' Americans be more acceptin' of different cultures.

Obsessin' over the drowned man

My daughter Beneatha keeps on pushin' me to start readin' them books she's always got her noise in. She got me to read this short Story The Handsomest Drowned Man in the World by Gabriel Garcia Marquez. I thought it real nice how they showed that poor drowned man all the respect you show your own loved one even tho' he was a stranger. Life ain't been that sweet to my people. People shouldn't be so 'fraid of what they don't know.
One thing I didn't understand 'bout this story was them woman and how they was wishin' so bad that their men was more like the "handsome drowned man". It's a shame they lettin' that man get their head's all silly. They got all concerned wit some superficial nonsense. They get so caught up in this man they say, "'Praise the Lord,' they sighed, 'he's ours!'" last I known we are all the children of God. He ain't belongin' to no one else. One should be happy with what they got. God blessed you with who you are and you best not take that for granted. I loved my big Walter and wouldn't have traded him for nothin' or no Esteban. He worked as hard as any other man if not more. Even them men lettin' this man get in their brains, comparin' themselves to him.
It's a real blessin' when people act selfless. I ain't so sure that they was all that selfless actin' tho'. They got themselves lost. They busy comparin' their way of lives to ideas 'bout what this stranger's life was like. They make his death 'bout them. In the end they're way of life ended up changin' because of this man. All this fuss over someone 'cause they different. If they ain't hatin' on you 'cause your different then they hatin' on themselves 'cause they jealous they ain't like you.

Battle of the Southern U.S. and the Irish styles

After immersing myself with these works of Flannery O'Connor, Eudora Welty, and Alice Walker I cannot help but see the similarity in our linguistic style. The poor rural communities that produced their writings bear resemblance to the makeup of rural Ireland; on both sides of the pond we display a strict sense of tight-knit xenophobic culture. In regard to these authors I admire how they incorporate their native land in the writing without sounding like a product of the environment. By this I mean that the South plays a role in the stories but these authors are able to not only present Southern values but expand and question them. Another point where Southern and Irish styles converge is in the attention to detail. I especially liked O'Connor's visual approach to her writing which influences the detail she incorporates in her scenery. This is also seen in Welty's work, I particularly love the vivid scenery in "A Worn Path." On one final note I think both our cultures pay close attention to tradition. As I traveled beyond Ireland throughout Europe I never failed to recognize the importance in the Joyce family name. I see this same trait in Walker's "Everyday Use" where she forces her reader to examine the significance of tradition and the culture it breeds. With so many similarities I cannot help but feel a close connection with these women of the South.

This is how....

From the not so common short story of the "Girl" by Jamaica Kincaid I find out that there are some stories that can be told without having a plot, no setting, no narrator, and with not particular point of view. Just telling what you want to say could also become a short story that will not have all the rules on how to made a story but the other person will no what is about. Where in the story "Girl" I could clearly see that it was talking about a person that believe she/he knows everything about life and want it to tell his/her child how things are done and how to do it. Because everything is done the same way or end up the same way like Margaret Atwood "Happy Endings". Where she base all her different happy endings with the first one where they life happily and die at the end. Showing a dark but pleasant kind of happy endings, at the same time saying that all endings are the same no matter how they start........

International Inspiration

I have just recently completed a short story masterpiece, The Handsomest Drowned Man in the World, written by the Colombian writer and journalist, Gabriel Garcia Marquez. The one thing throughout this short story that I admired the most was the reaction and acceptance of the village people. I always knew that I was not the only one who believed that we, as human beings, should accept all other human beings, even including strangers to our own societies, as we would to our neighbors. I have grown up in a life with a very different type of people, dealing with discrimination, strong criticism, and judgement that includes death, violence, and exile. I have always secretly craved societal peace, with welcoming people such as the villagers of this Latin American Cape.

If it were the people of my community who found this dead man washed up upon the shores, they would most likely ignore it, thinking maybe the pour soul had died for a good reason, and then maybe pray to feel better about themselves. If not, then they may just discard of the body even more so, after thinking of a good enough reason to. However, the people of this story halted their daily lives and took the corpse into the community to care for properly. They cleaned the corpse, handmade respectable clothing for him, claimed him as their own, and held a proper funeral. This place that Marquez has created filled with people of peace and acceptance is a place that I have only dreamed heaven to be like, if there really is one. Marquez has successfully proved to me that I am clearly not the only one who can sympathize with 'others.' I hope others are just as inspired by these international natives of peace, just as they are inspired to actually grow bigger because of Esteban.