Everyone is to write one chapter. All work is due by 6 p.m. Monday. Chapters should be abut 100 words in the free form style we have noted in Bikeman.
From the handout (the complete document is on Blackboard)
Epic is a long poem which deals with the doings characters from either legend or history. It is generally war-like that involves multiple secondary characters, and also gods and spirits. The following five are the epic conventions:
1. Invocation to muse: An epic starts with a prayer or invocation. The poet asks the muse/god to help him in his great work usually one of the nine daughters of Zeus. States the theme of the epic.
2. Narrative opens in media res. This means "in the middle of things," usually with the hero at his lowest point. Earlier portions of the story appear later as flashbacks.
2. Homeric Simile: Compared to an ordinary simile, a Homeric simile is expanded to such an extent that it becomes an another poem within the poem. A standard simile is a comparison using "like" or "as." An epic or Homeric simile is a more involved, ornate comparison, extended in great detail.
3. Athletic Games/Contest: Epic has to offer this convention. Milton makes use of it in his Paradise Lost Book-2 where he describes the fallen angels arranging an athletic meeting.
4. Adventurous Journey: The hero of an epic poem makes a journey. Heavy use of repetition and stock phrases. The poet repeats passages that consist of several lines in various sections of the epic and uses homeric epithets, short, recurrent phrases used to describe people, places, or things. Both made the poem easier to memorize.
I see only blackness now, my
ReplyDeleteeyes apparently closed without my knowledge.
I hear a dull roar, a pride of
lions in the distance. I
open my eyes, reluctantly, only
to find that Jacksonville, indeed,
scored another touchdown. I
argue with myself as to whether
I should even consider looking at
the scoreboard. But I do...
Thirteen to nil. I slump in agony,
as I look around at the
other spectators supporting Ole
Miss around me. They are displaying
on their faces what I feel in my heart.
I look up to the heavens, pleading
for help. "Please, Lord, why
must you allow this to continue? Why
must we suffer so?" I stop myself
before I evoke tears, as the kicker
for the Florida team lines up, preparing
for his shot at a field goal.
I run possibilities through
my mind, but I cannot muster
the strength to create
a positive outcome for us...
Now, sounds disappear, my sight freezes, as
if the movie is too much for my
feeble mind, time stops. It
is painful for me...
The ball, awaiting it's departure
from the ground laughs
mockingly at our side.
I sit, watching, waiting...
Waiting for the kick,
waiting for the call,
waiting for the goal,
waiting...for the end...
The buzzer sounds loud and long.
ReplyDeleteSlowly I realize the noise
is my alarm telling me
to get ready for class.
It was just a dream.
Today is only Friday,
I remind myself.
Walking to class, I already see
preparations for Saturday.
My mind is filled with
memories from previous games
and excitement for tomorrow.
The Grove transforms on game day
from quiet and peaceful
to busy and entertaining.
The dress code changes
from Nike shorts and t-shirts
to dresses and heels.
Now we are students at Ole Miss.
How will this game be different?
Will it be the same
as coming as an "outsider"
or will it seem like
a completely new experience?
The people on the field
are now our classmates and friends.
Walking through the Grove
is an everyday experience.
Does this change anything?
The beer hat slips easily over my hair,
ReplyDeleteit’s large reserves having been recently filled
with sweet life-giving nectar
known only to my collegiate brethren as “Natty Light.”
I gather up my dearest possessions
a pack of convincingly inconspicuous red plastic cups,
a foam pad to protect my supple cheeks from injury,
a framed and autographed picture of Masoli stealing from a child,
and I store the items lovingly on the tailgate of my ’82 Chevy pickup.
I look to the sky
with a heart filled with hope
and say a prayer to the god of all things pigskin-related
-- John Madden.
As I lay my head down to sleep this night
I think only one thing:
It’s Game Time.
The Grove, the most well-known place on campus,
ReplyDeletelooks as if a bottle of white out has been spilled over all the green,
snow on September 4th.
Everyone is adorned in white as a symbol
of support and Rebel Spirit.
Supporters from hundreds of miles away fill this place
with red and blue tents covering the achromatic atmosphere.
There is a spirit
that nobody can deny;
so much anticipation and
preparation has been put into this day.
Groups of friends tent-hop,
bumming drinks and socializing prior to
the start of the game.
We are all relaxed and confident-its
just Jacksonville State after all.
Victory would be an easy task
for this battle, considering our mighty warriors.
The sun beats down
ReplyDeleteUpon my tiring body
Draining the remaining vestiges of energy
From my morning meal
So many tents surround me
But none I can claim as my own
I am frantic now
Surrounded by the sweet aroma of home cookin’ all around me
Yet unable to indulge
As my spirit dwindles
I hear a voice of grace
“Can we join you?”
It is my roommate, asking a random Grover
Fro access to his tent
The Grover’s response is immediate and lovely
To my ears
“Of Course”
I think to myself
“We are going to make it”
Approaching the stadium,
ReplyDeleteI cannot help but be reminded of a coliseum
Where warriors of old spilled each other’s blood for the amusement of Caesar
Apprehension creeps over me as I move through the gate
“Stop being stupid!” I say to myself
“we’ll win this!”
But memories of yesterdays dream come flashing back to me
I look up from my internal struggle
The stadium almost seems to move with the masses of people
Waving flags and foam hands
Showing with pride the colors of their school
I can feel the music of the band and the shouts of the crowd reverberate through my whole body.
This is it.
This is what I came for.
I nervously check my watch
“five minutes ‘till game time”
I say to no-one in particular
The tension thickens until it seems a palpable substance
Pressing in on us from all sides, suffocating us, drowning us.
First game of the semester and expectations are high.
We have to win, we have to!
As most prepare for the buzz and joy
ReplyDeleteof the first contest of the season
I prepare for quite a different day.
For I will be caretaker of six children
whilst their parents enjoy the excitement
of game-day.
It bothers me not, however.
While many spent Ninety-Four dollars
to see today's excitement,
I am being paid one-hundred
to miss it.
Besides, I have help-
I get to spend the day in the company
of one I love.
I see the game's conclusion,
a disappointing one,
yet I look at my day's pay
and realize it's all okay.
Entering Vaught-Hemingway Stadium,
ReplyDeleteeagerness floods over myself and
thousands of others.
Screams of "Hotty Toddy"
roar throughout.
A sea of red and blue
surrounds me as I
find my seat among hundreds
of avid rebel fans.
"Finally" I think to myself.
The first football game of
the season is here.
Anxiety fills the air,
as our team breaks onto the field.
Again, an explosion of cheers
rumble all around me,
pulsing through the stadium,
as if it has a heartbeat.
Players line the field,
preparing for the upcoming battle.
Before I know it,
the game is underway.
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ReplyDeleteBang! What a start.
ReplyDeleteLess than two minutes into the game,
and we have already drawn first blood.
A quick jab in a gladiator fight to the death for the Rebels,
as Stanley proves his worth,
with a picture perfect forty-one yard pass
to Melvin Harris for an Ole Miss touchdown!
Immediately the student section erupts,
"ARE YOU READY?!"
Simultaneously, the crowd responds
with the rest of the chant proclaiming who we are,
"OLE MISS BY DAMN!"
As soon as the crowd finally begins to settle down,
Stanley again shows signs of becoming our new beloved hero.
Ole Miss again wounds the Gamecocks' hearts,
as Jesse Grandy waltzes past the goal line.
Already it seems as if the Fates
have put the Rebels in the winning column for the opening week.
The future is bright for Ole Miss fans,
as the hero, equaled to Achilles, has yet to set foot on the field.
All around me, the students of Ole Miss
ReplyDeleteare united in their love of football.
The aroma of Corky's Bar-B-Que Nachos filled the spirited air,
like a sweet perfume.
It seemed that nothing could taint this wonderful afternoon.
Ole Miss is unstoppable.
The thought of an easy win, drives my comrades and I
to leave Vault-Hemmingway at half time.
The grove seems to be the perfect place
for a premature celebration.
The blue and red sprinkles the green grass
and the long branches of the oak trees welcomes us back
with open arms, not knowing the tragedy unfolding in the stadium.
Suddenly, ominous shrieks echo
throughout the once joyful grove.
What could ruin this most perfect day?
A text from the inside: "The game is tied. We suck. Again."
My feet in my high heels ache almost as much as my heart.
Will my beloved team do the unthinkable
or will Masoli be the hero that we need?
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ReplyDeleteI allow my mind to wander
ReplyDeleteto happier times
when we triumphed,
when the crowds still rejoiced.
At halftime we lead by twenty one.
As the band took the field
we were confident of our impending victory,
of our eminent first win
The golden horns shouted joyously, and we sang
with the music of the ages:
songs about journeys
songs about glory,
but all the while a storm was brewing.
In the visitor’s locker room a battle cry
urging our enemy to retaliation was uttered,
but we heard it not.
We were busy, already celebrating
the victory we knew was ours.
A phone call
ReplyDeletefrom my father lets me know
the game is on.
I rush home as fast as I can.
As I enter my once so familiar home
and see the players line up
on the television screen,
I feel a deep dagger in my side
from the knowledge that
I let my team down.
I can't be there to support them.
Like a wounded warrior,
I must sit and wait.
Wait for the battle to be over.
Stranded in this land so far from my home,
I yearn for the moment I finally cross this cement ocean
to greet my Penelope
who needs my support.
This will not happen again.
I will be there for my team.
Booooo!!! Booooo!!!
ReplyDeleteThe fans are yelling...
throwing their hats, poms poms,
and anything they can find to express their anger.
A win or loss the reaction will stay the same.
The battle is too close,
and even though we could possibly
still win, letting a smaller and weaker
enemy push us around on our
own territory is demeaning
and embarrassing enough.
We spectators try to stay positive,
but watching in great hope
we are dismayed and internally crushed
at the sight of the other team
running like a fast approaching
thunderstorm across the Ole Miss logo in victory.
Sitting in disbelief, the fellow fans around me watch
in silence and disgust as if they had just been robbed.
Walking back to the grove,
I have the same reoccurring question as
many: What in the world just happened?
Anger, disappointment, and humiliation
ReplyDeleteThey hit me all at once.
You can see the bruises they leave on my face,
They beat on me until I can do nothing but scream.
I know what comes next,
I have seen this happen before.
My phone is an angry swarm of bees,
Buzzing away menacingly in my pocket
Pleading to be freed.
But I will keep them caged,
These bees show neither sympathy nor compassion,
These bees mean to sting.
I have never seen a graver scene,
Than the Grove on that September afternoon
I can only think of the one encouraging phrase
That always rings true;
“We may not win every game, but we never lose a party.”
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ReplyDeleteThis comment has been removed by the author.
ReplyDeleteThe milling mass about me
ReplyDeleteOf the beaten, and the stunned
Spectators pouring forth from the stadium's mouths
Tramples with ill humor
Upon the Grove, as a quarter earlier they would
fain
have pounded
underfoot
The opposing endzone in mocking joyous dance.
Dying far-off bars of Dixie
Half-pierce the sylvan shroud above
to reach our ears a twisted dirge.
Where had we gone wrong? The question burned
As I drank deeply of a plastic, red canopic jar
My bitter flat libation.
What superstition lacked its talisman,
What ritual left unobserved?
Perhaps our new arrival,
The vanguard signal-caller from far-off Oregon,
Just yesterday deemed suitable, and
Anointed to play,
Streaming in and out through the yard-line warp,
A shuttle deftly guided by some dextrous Arachne
To weave our triumphal banner,
Somewhere in his zig-zag path
The golden thread of victory had dropped,
And brought us one and all to deadly rage.
everyone from far and wide
ReplyDeletetexted to inform me,
in case i was not yet aware,
of the defeat over a tiny alabama team
who we payed to play
in order to make ourselves look good
i ignored these messages from
warriors from lsu, usc, and other far off places
my comrades and i sat around,
wondering if we had chosen the
team of the defeated
"we refuse to be losers" one of us cries
and we know that next saturday
blue and red will defeat the green and white