Brothers,
We've discussed a lot with regard to The Canterbury Tales in terms of irony, mock-epic, rhyme scheme (i.e. heroic couplet), maxim, exemplum, the archetypal elements of a moral tale.
That said, let's throw the class activity on Aesop Rock's "No Regrets" aside for now and flex, instead, our creative muscles.
Create an at least 50-100 line tale about a specific person, event, or thing that involves the following: a "couplet" rhyme scheme; a moral; and all four of the archetypal elements that we've discussed in class and read about in the text (cf. 140).
Please incorporate at least ten (10) vocabulary words from pages 91, 118, and 140 into your tale.
If you are having trouble trying to be creative, consider Aesop Rock's own tale of Lucy in "No Regrets" as a modern-day spin-off of a Canterbury tale. Perhaps his work and of course that of Chaucer will inspire you to create!
This assignment is due by class-time on Tuesday, Nov. 13. You have plenty of time to begin writing and to start asking questions.
Otherwise, please read Sir Gawain and the Green Knight for class on Monday (Nov. 5).
BRobPeachFSC
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David Kocinski
Bro Rob Peach
BritLit 141-04
One Lonesome Road
11/12/07
I once saw a man walking down a lonesome road.
He had such a pallor expression that showed
Me he was not in the most sanguine mood.
This man seemed very crude.
I thought to myself, "I should follow him,
Maybe i could cheer him up instead of being so grim."
I was very solicitous towards this man.
"I want to help you as much as I can."
I said aloud. I thought he had heard me.
But it was more of a cant, as loud as it be.
Then I heard a sound, something from the sky
I looked up and saw something that could fly
It soared down to me and I heard it say,
"I give you commission to keep following that man, for he knows the way."
"Way to what?" I said, but the creature was gone
But I accepted this maxim, and I saw the break of dawn
"It is turning to morning," I said, quiet as a mouse
And then i saw the man walk towards a house
Whoever owned this was rich in capital, had a lot of money
The man walked into the house, and the sky turned sunny
I timorously entered after him, and then I saw
Three people committing a crime that was against the law
"What is going on here?" I said to the people there
They looked at me, but did not seem to care.
They did not answer, but then I said
"Where is that man I followed?" and I started to tread
I said to myself,"My legs are tired, I must rest
I am becoming very stressed"
But I was just pratting, talking too much
Then i found what i needed to do was as such:
"I will search this house from bottom to top
I will search and search, I will not stop."
I started off by running down the first hall
It was hard to run, for it was very small
Running down, opening every single door
I thought I looked in every one, but i found one more
I opened that door, and guess what I saw
The man standing there with an expression of awe
"Who are you?" I asked with such fear
He said "I am Tim, an apothecary is my career"
I asked him "What are those people doing down there?"
"I do not know" he said, "They show nothing but despair"
"We must stop them" I said, and ran out the door
He followed close behind, I heard his footsteps against the floor
"Stop!" We both said at the same time
The enemies stopped and disappeared at the sound of a wind chime
"I think they're gone" I said, "We gave it our best.
This really put us to the test."
"That was really easy
Maybe we will get rewarded" Tim said, sounding queasy
We started to walk home, and I looked in the sky
I once again saw that creature who could fly
"Thank you very much" I heard it say
And then it finally flew away
Bill McLean
Bro. Rob Peach
Eng 141.04
November 13, 2007
There was once a student in school.
He was sanguine and cool.
He worked hard and got good grades,
never slacked off, had little time to play.
He played but one sport,
he could take it to you on the court.
Defense is the position he played,
varsity was the team he made.
The days past by always the same,
until one day three kids came,
to his school.
They made him feel uncool.
The first was the average height,
and always short on might.
He had no self confidence,
why he bullied was no coincidence.
His grades were horrendous,
he thought they were tremendous.
He barely passed every class,
didn’t pay attention in mass.
He was not good at sports,
he wasn’t a beast on the court.
He was very timorous,
so he would mess with people on the bus.
The second was skinny and light,
and always thought he could win in a fight.
But he couldn’t do that because he was weak,
the good student thought he was a freak.
He garnished himself in clothes that were not his size,
it made him look bigger in his own eyes.
He thought he was real tough,
he thought his neighborhood was rough.
He thought that it was,
no reason just because.
He was not in good shape,
his façade was so fake.
it was one that was solicitous,
his ego so big he though he was tremendous.
The third was not an ordinary kid,
he always had a hat on his lid.
He was pallor and didn’t talk much,
about such and such,
he had a lot to say,
but would never let it spray.
Just like the first two,
he thought he knew.
about the good student,
but he was not prudent.
He slept through class,
to let the time pass.
No one knew his name,
baseball was his game.
He was from the same hood as the second one
his main goal was to create a derision.
Now the good student one day
couldn’t take it and started to pray.
He let his anger out,
without ever making a shout.
He started to write rhymes,
about these harsh times.
He knew they were good,
and wondered if he should,
ever spit them to a beat,
but instead he took a back seat,
to some others who thought they were better,
but he needed that cheddar,
though he didn’t want the fame.
so he stuck to the underground game.
The one day the kids wouldn’t let up,
the good student thought he was stuck.
He asked questions, and no one answered,
except one person the only one who would answer.
The boy asked what he should do?
He said he could not keep cool.
He wanted to strike back.
The stringent voice said that wasn’t the way to act.
It said he had to much class for that,
and he should just ignore it, that’s a fact.
It said don’t give a reaction,
its just simple subtraction.
Without the reaction they will leave you alone,
they will stop prank calling your phone.
Just ignore their meaningless prating,
it’s just cant stop whining.
The good student didn’t like this advice,
it was not good enough to suffice.
The next day the kids took it to far,
but the good student just got in his car.
and drove until he calmed down,
he didn’t want to act like a clown.
He went home and started writing some more,
always non-fiction none of that folk lore.
He rapped about the first kid the most,
and about how he would become toast,
in the real world because he couldn’t stand,
on his own two feet like a real man.
So here is just a sample,
of his raps, its pretty ample
in describing the first bully
and how he acts immaturely.
“Men don’t act like they are four years old,
you still sound like you got a little cold.
Want me to call your mom?
Too bad suck it up, remain calm!
Men don’t have to fight,
to prove they are right.
Fighting proves nothing,
Well. . .maybe it proves something.
But to me that something is nothing.
You aren’t the strongest, take a seat,
You will get beat.
I know you’re just scared of defeat,
Self confidence is something you lack.
Someone else always has your back.
You can’t defend yourself,
so you better watch your health.
There is such a thing as karma.
Something can and will harm ya.
Your not invincible, your not superman.
You aren’t even anything close to a man.”
What happened to the good student, how does it end?
All four graduated but that’s not the end.
The first kid ended up working at a gas station,
the second selling tickets at the bus station.
The third lives in his parents basement,
he doesn’t even make one cent.
Now the smart student graduated top of the class,
got into college and worked hard to pass.
In four years he had a degree,
got a job and made a ton of money.
Got married and bought a house,
had two kids and a lovely spouse.
He drove a foreign car,
didn’t tarry to lice life like a superstar.
He never took this capital for granted.
Kevin Bojarski
Bro. Rob Peach
Eng. 141-04
Cant. Tales Poem
11-11-07
The witness took the stand and the questions started flowing,
The accused sat back relaxed, no emotion he was showing.
He had no choice but to keep his cool,
There where two options: fully acquitted, or 15 without the chance of parole.
Those are pretty high stakes,
And he was lookin for a break.
So instead of leaving it to the jury,
He tried to decide his own fate.
A couple weeks before the trial,
He picked up the phone and began to dial,
The number of the judge, who held the key,
To the door for this man to be guilty or free.
He knew he was facing serious time,
So he decided to throw out a generous bribe.
Capital he had, so he told the judge name his price,
And he blurted out a number that he thought would be nice.
The convicted thought it was kinda steep,
But he also knew that “justice” wasn’t cheap.
He told the judge that they had a deal,
And he expected the trial to go smoothly, no appeals.
The judge avouched he had no worries,
But he had to put his children to bed in a hurry.
“Very well, Goodnight,” the man exclaimed
And the judge’s response was much the same.
That night the judge didn’t sleep but a wink,
For he had too much on his mind to think.
A judges’ stringent code, a maxim to keep,
And if he accepted the bribe, he’d be in it deep.
But the lure of the cash that he would receive,
Was enough to make any man fall to his knees.
He was solicitous of what would occur
If on the trial date he decided to concur.
At the thought of getting caught he began to worry,
And at that same time he became quite hoary.
He decided to ask his wife a hypothetical situation
Where a convict bribes a judge with large amounts of money
She regarded it with derision,
And said a judge like that deserves to go to prison.
This was all the more reason not to follow through,
But then he got to thinking what the man would do
If he backed out on the deal he before agreed to,
None-the-less, he knew what he must do.
He couldn’t absolve a criminal for a crime he did commit,
He was a garnished judge, and he had to stay legit.
So the trial day came to be,
And as far as the defendant could see,
The judge was following the plan
And soon he would be Scott free.
But much to his dismay,
The judge opened his mouth to say,
That he was guilty on all counts,
Then the man began to shout,
“We had a deal,” I say,
“How could you back out this way?”
The judge’s face had pallor to it,
But what he did, he had to do it.
He upheld the law, though it was tough,
And hopefully with any luck,
The judge would forget he ever thought,
To accept the bribe that he had got.
And from all this a lesson taught,
That no just man could be ever bought.
Timothy Brashear
Bro Rob-e –Rob
11/12/07
BJ
The library is garnished with 3 useless TV’s,
And in this place you are not allowed to sneeze.
Here lies a crazy short little fellow,
If you say one word he will bellow,
Commands and sayings that don’t even make sense,
To people who possess less of a common sense.
His hair is hoary and he wears glasses,
He often threatens to kick many students a****.
There are no absolutions from the detentions he gives you,
He is as stringent as the library is new.
The moment you step into the library with three of your friends,
He separates you all and sends you to separate ends.
No matter how sanguine or confident you may seem,
This man can make you feel like a small bean.
Whether it be a lineman or a kid who plays chess,
He will kick you out of the library showing no solicitous.
Though old very wise is he,
He does atleast one crossword every morning sometimes three.
Whether it is down or across he gets them all right,
I wonder whether he sleeps or just does crosswords all night.
So there once was a kid, who came in one day,
He teacher decided at home is where he would stay.
So he took to a crossword in the library.
Trying to find a synonym for apothecary.
He engaged in some prating with a fellow classmate,
But only to see if there were any answers he could take.
Bro. Joe not easily fooled,
Started walking toward the student he was about to scold.
The student began cant with Bro. Joe or meaningless talk,
But Bro. Joe told him his lips he should lock.
He asked Bro. Joe for a helpful clue,
Bro. Joe told him what he knew.
Even though Bro. had just helped him out,
Once he turned his back the student began to look about.
It crossed his mind whether cheating was right or wrong,
But he didn’t care and moved on to the question about a song.
So he kept looking around and around and didn’t care.
Up and down others papers is where he would stare.
Bro. Joe came back again and confronted him,
And he just looked down with a subtle whim.
Bro. asked him about what he had been doing.
In prevarication was where his thoughts were brewing.
He couldn’t put his words together and was avoiding the truth.
If he was Pinocchio his nose would have grown through the roof.
He tarried with his words and they didn’t come out right.
He knew he was no match for Bro. Joe in a fight.
So he backed down and paid the price for the crime.
He was banded from the library for the rest of time.
So hopefully he learned his lesson and right from wrong.
Because he will be gone for very, very long.
Zachary Polk
Bro. Rob Peach
ENG 141.4 Brit. Lit.
11/13/07
“A Story About Ed”
This is a story of a guy named Ed;
Who always had a hard time going to bed.
He was never sanguine, but always sad.
He was even a little mad and sometimes bad.
Having the difficulties he faced in life,
He thought some day he might get him a wife.
His father whom he loved who’s name was Ned
Had a lot of hair which was the color red.
Ned did not talk cant, but pointed him the right way,
And said this talk would pay off some day.
He was very stringent in his talk,
That Ed sometimes after listening had to go for a walk.
After this talk Ed tarried to class,
So he could sit and muse at the task.
His teacher asked him why he was late,
Ed told the teacher he forgot the date.
He was going to school to study apothecary
The same thing that made his father merry.
In class Ed heard some prating about him,
Which made his spirits dim.
At the dinner table that night,
He addressed his dad with his plight.
Ed thought since his dad had capital, or was rich;
That he could help him, which was his wish.
Ned being solicitous helped his son,
When dinner was done.
The advice from the pallor faced, hoary haired Ned,
Was very helpful to Ed.
Ned’s advice expressed in maxim form,
Lingered in Ed’s mind all the way to his bedroom or dorm.
Ed went to school the next day
With his mind set the right way.
Now he will not fail,
Or even end up in jail.
He studied every night
On his desk with a light.
He would now pass this class,
Which to him was as easy as breaking glass.
He graduated from this school,
Which his father thought was very cool.
Ed now lives a successful life;
With a very good looking wife.
He still is working very hard,
Not being a lazy lard.
He is working for his dad,
Which made him very glad.
He is no longer a timorous young boy,
Who was once sad and now is full of joy.
He knows now there are better things in life,
By working hard, and having a supportive wife.
Bro. Rob Peach, FSC
Bro. Rob Peach, FSC
ENG 141.Sections 4 and 5
13.XI.2007
Canterbury Tales Spin-Off
“In Faith”
A young man of a yellow pallor, whose beliefs are shaken
Falls as from a tower with spirit forsaken.
He knows not what is to come of this fall
Only that the journey downward seems endless and all
Full of restless wandering as a lamb without shepherd.
He is torn between two worlds: the real and the absurd;
The purple sky and the pale soil of the desert ground;
The material worth of a world in white sound
And the spirit earth unseen, unheard, yet felt.
This figure in anguish cries from painful karma dealt
By years of questions long forgotten or never asked
Until the dark horizon of his mind reveals a hermit unmasked.
In the light of day this figure steps forth
From black mountains to the East, the West, and North.
He stands firmly balanced on marble before the timorous young man
With the authority that only a well-garnished pope could demand.
This hoary pontificator is oddly ageless it seems
With hair gray and curled and a sanguine face that beams
A shimmering honey brown beneath a swarm of bees
That suggest industry, order, and purities.
His face looks stern and his countenance stringent,
But he seeks only to give solace to those in bereavement.
He wishes not to judge or deride the helpless, heathen youth
But simply to provide sound direction forsooth.
One hand points skyward in certainty
And the other points earthward earnestly.
Without cant he avouches two sets of values—
Those of spiritual and those of material hues—
Having only this to say solicitously:
“I am sinless and all sin derives from me.”
He falters not and by example commissions
The wishful young man to grasp his ambitions
With some newfound hope to build a firm foundation
On which to deal with life without prevarication.
But with a system of belief called faith,
Not an organized rite, but a spirituality unsafe,
Stripped of all dogma in a land that burns fire,
Tempting always this youth into traps of desire
From which he was absolved by a spirit-man unnamed,
Who, with two fingers and thumb stretched, tamed
In the sign of the cross the once-blind fool,
Whose wisdom grows with experience as his tool
For leaning not to obey but to act
On behalf of a mind that speaks with tact
The words divine of spirit, man, and myth
Cutting short, as ominous death with his scythe,
Urges that burn all sight of a life
That exits in undulating waves of strife,
Which, when confronted as an adversary in war,
Afford him the test of manhood avoided before.
The youth stares he, who reaps grim, in the face
In a battle of wits, of style, and of grace.
This the youth wins, prizing the ankh as his pendant—
A life victorious in an adolescence well spent
In falling into, listening for, and acting upon
The sage voice of a prophet once here, now gone,
Yet whose spirit survives in the monument fountain of the youth,
Whose own story of sin redeemed is yours is mine I tell you again in sooth.
It is a tale of begetting, a tale of birth,
Told in three cards tarot, resulting in mirth
Mike Nuttle
Bro. Rob Peach
Eng 141.04
November 13, 2007
The Three Bad Hombres
This is a story about three bad hombres.
Earl, Stan, and Carl were their nombres.
They sought to find three holy grails, from which each wanted to drink their cider,
But they had no idea where to look, but had heard of a wise old man named “The Spider”.
Upon entrance to The Spider’s lair they were petrified,
For they were blown away by what was inside.
They saw a peculiar little man with a demented face, maniacal in manner
Already speaking to them about what they had come for in almost rehearsed banter.
He commissioned them to head west, cross three long bridges,
Climb three huge mountains, and surpass three tall ridges.
Find some sort of magical shrub,
And give it a nice vigorous rub,
And the capital they sought would be materialized;
But only if the warriors realized,
That goodness only falls upon the chivalrous,
And that failure would bestow the cowardice.
He said that this journey was of the treacherous sort,
And now was the only time if they wished to abort.
They understood that this would be a tough test,
But even so they decided to accept their quest.
Knowing how nice that was of The Spider to share,
They thanked him much, and left his lair.
Feeling prepared, they started to head west,
Sanguine, they couldn’t wait for their first test.
They made it to the bridges with ease,
And blew past the first two like a breeze.
But sitting at the far end of the third bridge was a little man
“Who are you and what do you want?” bravely asked Stan.
“Silence, and answer my riddle or you shall not pass”
Earl said “Alright, we’ll put up with your antics, and show some class”
“What’s black and white and read all over?” said the man.
Not solicitous and thinking that this was cant, Earl homeward ran.
“Obviously a newspaper” replied the others,
And the man said, “I won’t tarry you any longer, good luck brothers”
The two interested members then came upon the mountain
Then Carl remarked, “Hey Stan, I’ve really been doubtin’.”
Stan said “relax Carl, don’t be timorous;
Nothing bad will happen, don’t be ridiculous”.
Just then a monster emerged,
Both the men’s adrenaline surged,
Cowardly Carl had pallor and fled, but stringent Stan fought,
For that delectable cider Stan really sought.
And Stan defeated the enormous monster with little effort,
For he was so mad; this mission he would not let the monster thwart.
But then he approached the ridges, which he knew would test his strength.
And he forced his way up the ridges for a great length.
And he finally reached the shrub,
And gave it rub.
He avouched himself, and eventually got what he deserved,
For he had shown the bravery and the nerve,
Unlike his compadres,
The other two bad hombres,
He got to enjoy the warm deliciously sweet cider.
Then he thought of how far he had come, and returned to The Spider.
David Marra
Bro Rob Peach
Brit. Lit.
11/13/07
Francine
There once was a boy of a yellow pallor named Frank
Who was always good for a prank.
He didn’t do well in school
And always said “it’s for fools!”
He really liked Brother Peach
But not when he tried to teach.
He was a stereotypical Hampton rat
Who hit down three mail boxes with a baseball bat.
He was on a first name basis with the Hampton 5.0.
Along with his favorite teacher, Brother Joe Keough.
He always skipped school to see his timid girl Becca
And she looked like she ate too many triple decka’s.
She was referred to as the Deer Lakes jewel
But did anything but make me drool.
He did not take school very serious
Mostly because he was delirious.
Don’t cry just ask why and try not to die
As I take you through a Hampton Rat’s lullaby.
One night he was put under arrest
And didn’t have time to study for his test
He talked to his girl Becca about what to do,
She was very solicitous and said “cheat, so you can pass, and so I can see you!!”
So Frank went to well garnished class all sanguine and hoping all would go well,
He thought about his consequences and said “Ah what the hell.”
He was forced to cheat to pass the class
And put his consequences in the past.
His eyes were loose and going everywhere,
And then he was sniped, by Mrs. O’Hare.
Like a deer in the head lights, he froze,
He was sorry now for what he chose.
He was sent to the stringent Mr. Capretta to be reprimanded,
There was no absolution and Mr. Capretta much he demanded.
He was to clean for two hours after school,
As he thought to himself, “now who’s the fool!”
Don’t cry just ask why and try not to die
As I take you through a Hampton Rat’s lullaby.
There was a call to his parents, who were at work,
And Rick told them, their son was a jerk.
The bus ride home was lonely, as he meditated,
Because he knew when he got home, he would be decapitated.
When at home, he realized no one was there,
So he left to go get back to Becca and rip out her hair.
On his way home he saw his dad pull in the driveway,
And decided it would be safer to hit the highway.
Frank is now homeless and a high school dropout,
But never Becca, will he be without.
Don’t cry just ask why and try not to die
As I take you through a Hampton Rat’s lullaby.
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