Few things....
When you post you REALLY need to put down your entire name if you have the SAME FIRST NAME as someone else. Seriously, I know in your heads you are thinking " But this answer is so insightful and screams of my essence that it's inconceivable ( shout out to The Princess Bride and Shawn Wallace) that she wouldn't know it's me!" Well, to all the Amanda named, Alex named, and Sam named people out there....YOU'RE GIVING ME A HEADACHE!!! ( Are you feeling the red font; are you?)Some of you are getting better at throwing down the last names, but from now on...no last name= no grade! I can barely remember the names of my own children on a daily basis...I can't read through the computer lines to feel your force...I'm not a Jedi...yet....
So, thinking jedis= thinking of Luke= thinking of heroes=thinking "hey, I just gave them a cool mock heroic poem on a skeeter. We should do something with that." (See the train of thought...note that it does end up at the station...sometimes...unless it's derailed by thoughts of food or my new video game.)
What I would like you to do is reread Updike's Mosquito and add your thoughts and feeling concerning the poem. Make sure to read what others have left and comment off the posts before you. Additionally, if you had to create a mock heroic on something usually viewed as insignificant, what would it be?
On the fine wire of his whine he walked
Unseen in the ominous bedroom dark
A traitor to his camouflage, he talked
A thirsty blue streak distinct as a spark,
I was to him a fragrant lake of blood
From which he had to sip a drop or die
A reservoir, a lavish field of food
I lay awake, unconscious of my size
We seem fair-matched opponents, soft he dropped
Down like a anchor on his thread of song
His nose sank thankfully in; then i slapped
At the sting on my arm, cunning and strong
A cunning, strong gargantua. i struck
This lover pinned in the feast of my flesh
Lulled by my blood, relaxed, half-sated, stuck
Engrossed in the gross rivers of myself
Success, without a cry the creature died
Became a fleck of fluff upon the sheet
The small welt of remorse subsides as side
By side we, murderer and murdered, sleep.
