Photo 2- Beyond The Boundaries of Ecstasy

As I step out onto the burning sand, the smell of stuffy summer air overwhelms me. However, walking a little further past the airport gates eases my ambiguity. The midday air sways to the rhythm of bird song, and the land is covered in blooming buds and glowing green shrubs. I see before me a scrawny, somewhat undernourished young boy; his bare feet crackled by the sizzling sun of Goa.
He is unlike anything I have seen before. I wonder why he has no shoes on, and how his baggy shirt had become so torn and soiled. Why is he without a mother or father, since you would think that a busy airport is no place for a lone child? I agonize that such a tall stature like me may just alarm the vulnerable youngster into eternal hiding. Nonetheless, it is not long before I realise how unfazed this child is by my presence- and our disparity, for that matter.
He takes my bags from underneath my palms, and begins to make his way down to the conveyor belt, where I hope to be greeted by my battered suitcase. I am reluctant to follow; not sure whether or not to relieve this weak being of the heavy load he has burdened himself with. I am now feeling slightly uncomfortable; watching as he continues to struggle on with my bags (that must weigh at least half of what he does).
At last, the youngster comes to a halt, and throws himself down next to a case that looked remarkably like my own. I am suddenly worried for his safety; surely, such a fall would have condemned this infant to great pain? I am wrong. He starts to giggle- a sound which makes me shiver. How can such a feeble and poorly child be so content?
The answer was lying in the domineering heat of South Asia: he had been granted life, and that was something that I’m sure not all of his siblings had been lucky enough to possess. I take his hand and place a small pile of Rupees I had gathered over my many years of travelling. The little one shrieks in delight, and skips off across the gleaming floors.
As she headed towards the archway of coconut trees, and out beyond the boundaries of ecstasy, the elderly photographer only hoped this adventure would be better than her last.

The Last Dance (Photo 8)

It is carefully choreographed, out of years of practice.

He buys the papers en route, every day: one for him; one for her. He tucks his, rolled tight, a triggerless rifle under his arm. She folds hers carefully, and slips it into her bag, next to the baby wipes. (She has never had a baby – but has always found the world in need of wiping.) The change makes maracas out of his trouser pockets, and he whistles along too – but the tune is always the same, and wants a cadence.

She likes to pretend the table is theirs, each seat engraved with an invisible plaque. It is true that they have never sat anywhere else; but, in truth, the café is always empty when they arrive; and when they leave. There is a different face at the counter today, but she does not notice: she doesn’t do faces. She orders. One pot of breakfast leaf; two cups, warmed; two slices of Victoria sandwich. She leaves the money, stacked neatly, on the counter, before taking her seat.

The sun is bleach-bright today. It strikes her as garish, hostile even. At home, she would draw the curtains shut – and she leans back slightly to catch the shade of the brown drapes in the window. The news smells bad, and she reads it from a distance. She has learnt never to get too close.

He stopped reading the newspaper years ago, but, held high enough, she doesn't notice. He does not drink the tea either, and barely touches the cake. In twenty minutes, they will leave – but a part of him will remain; each day, a part of him remains – in fact, he frequently has the sensation that, in time, there will be little of him left. At which point, he will lay the newspaper gently over his creased, glassy face and crumble among the cake crumbs.

Across the road, a cold almost-corpse is wheeled on to an ambulance.

Task 41: A Holiday Task

On the back of such dazzling sonnets, you really are all at the top of your game. Six weeks away from writing, however, and you will just go rusty - so the purpose of this task is twofold: to keep your creativity alive over the summer break; and to give you a platform to show off to your moderators everything you can already do with prose fiction (as well as things you have never tried before!).

I really don't want to give you too many constraints with this task. After the rigidity of sonneteering, I want Task 41 to be much more of a blank canvas on which for you to let your creativity blossom. All I will do is a) give you a stimulus for your writing; and b) give you some suggestions about some creative decisions you might choose to make.

And the task?

To write a piece of prose fiction (between 300-400 words) inspired by one of the following photos.

By 'inspired by', I simply mean that you use the photo as a springboard (or starting point); where it takes you creatively is totally down to you and your muse...

All the photos have been taken from a brief and random surf on the 'Social Documentary' pool on flickr.com. DOCUMENTARY PHOTOGRAPHY is basically a genre of photo which provides a (usually anonymous) snippet of the everyday life of an ordinary person. I don't think any of these photos are copyright-protected, which is why I am embedding them here; if I am wrong, then I apologise to the photographers concerned - but I am sure they will not mind their work inspiring the work of a bunch of teenage writers from East London anyway...

Photo 1


Photo 2


Photo 3


Photo 4


Photo 5


Photo 6


Photo 7


Photo 8


Photo 9


Photo 10

Once you have decided which photo you found most interesting or potentially profound, you will need to make a few decisions about how to write your piece. Here are some things to think about:

1. Form: Will it be the beginning of a short story (or novel)? Or a dramatic monologue?
2. Narrator: Will you go for 1st person (i.e. I/Me)? 3rd person (i.e. he/them etc.)? Or maybe even dare to dabble in the 2nd person (i.e. you)? Or even a mixture?
3. Tense: Will you write in the past tense? The present tense? The future tense even?
4. Narrative: Will you have multiple narratives running parallel to each other? Will the narrative move forward (or backwards) in a linear way?
5. Dialogue: Will you include some dialogue? If so, how will it be represented?
6. Description: How much detail will you give your reader regarding setting and scene? How much is essential and how much is superfluous?
   
7. Tension: Your reader will need a reason to keep reading - and to get to the end - but how will you achieve this?
8. Syntax: How will you experiment with your syntax (sentence structure)? Will you use long, compound/complex sentences? Short, simple sentences? Fragments, even? Or a mixture?
9. Vocabulary: What about the words you choose? Will they be long, complex and polysyllabic? Or short, simple and snappy? Words you have never used before, or common words used in a new way?
   
10. Imagery: How will you give your writing figurative richness (i.e. simile, metaphor and personification) without resorting to cliché?
11. Poetry: Lots of the best poetic techniques should not only be reserved for poetry. Think about the SOUND of your prose too: e.g. alliteration, rhythm, rhyme etc.
12. SHOW not TELL: How much will you be able to leave to your reader's imagination? And how much work do you need to do on their behalf? Suggestion usually works better than just 'telling'; but if you are too oblique and mysterious, you might just lose them.
    
13. Reader: What effect are you trying to have on your audience? How will you achieve this?
14. Start and Finish: Even if your piece is a smaller part of something much longer, you still need to think very carefully about how you BEGIN and END your piece (as these bits are, in many ways, the most important of all).
15. Photo: And how will you use the photo you chose? Perhaps it just gives you an idea or emotion that you then develop in a totally different and abstract direction? Perhaps it offers you a character you will then bring to life? Best of all, try out a number of things, and then take further the idea that seems to work the best...
    

I could go on forever. The point I am trying to make is that there are always choices to be made. And EVERY single word you write, every sentence, every paragraph - EVERYTHING should be the result of a creative DECISION. That is not to say that great writing can't flow, subconscious and instinct-driven; simply that, before submitting your final draft to the blog, you need to be confident that every single part of your piece is exactly how you want it to be.

The timescale for this task is longer than usual - but you MUST all meet the deadline, even if you need are going away on holiday and therefore need to be very strict with yourself whilst you are still at home. The deadline is midnight on Saturday 15th August.

Your moderators will then have the following fortnight in which to comment, in time for Task 42 at the very beginning of next term.

Finally, just in case any of you are a little stuck or confused about how to go about this DIFFICULT task, I will post my own exemplar over the next day or two. But please remember: it is only an exemplar, and, therefore, only one of the many different possible ways to attempt this task.

Good luck!

englishguru

Daylight and Darkness

Daylight

I sit upon the sand and think about
The sun and happiness that daylight brings.
And how it carries daydreams throught the clouds
So here, you'll find I am again, i sing.
The birds and men amongst me overhear
All of my thoughts and hopes that Earth will store
For me, the light is everything that's near
I need help to discover something more.
Like loving such another as myself
To stop becoming enemies with me,
And earning that love, respect to help my health
This is what makes me realise and see.
Transform the way i crave the magic of light,
To make my heart feel day instead of night.

Darkness

Like darkness, danger lurks at these very feet
And turns into a fear inside my heart.
I have to find a method out, to flee
But also, peril is comforting to start
A friendship and a sense of meaning of dusk
and helps to know your fears and demons too.
I like the way that shadows light up rugs
And love the way it shines a glow on you.
How, wonders i, why you force me into this,
A grip and prison i am trapped within.
How could you make me feel like this, so quick?
I can be strong and won't let you succeed.
It's me, not you, and i am here, so leave
Please take your evilness, but please return.

Faith and Atheism

Faith
I love that there is a God that never
Fails. To know the maker of everything.
Who loves and is love and will forever.
To give much in return for you to sing.
In complete surrender and with all I
Have to give. Yes it was the over flow
Of your grace that kept me in relation
With you. But the day when your glory shows
Those who knew will be in celebration.
Everlasting God forever more, will
You be a rock once more. For me: shelter
From such a stormy world. For me a still
Peace, through the worst of times. For Me: leader
When my path was hard to find. I love you.


Atheism
I hate when people try to make me one
Of their religious beliefs. Always
On my case. If I was in search of some
Kind of God a church would be in my days
Routine. Yet I do not wish to be seen
In one. When my time comes I highly
Doubt this view will change. Atheism means
I am keen to show theists the lively
way of existence. Carefree a life full
and lead only by me. However they
wish not to hear. So what can I do for
those who do not want to know. Always say
‘God loves you’ but God does not know anymore.
When I was young I was naive not now.

Slavery and Freedom

Slavery
I woke amidst a silence infantile,
The ennui suffered froze time – aeonic
Disease held my mind in its casket. Bile
And blood that brewed a spirit: platonic
Love liquor conjures beneath despising
The cherished nemesis; he poisoned, drugged
With hate the addiction I do now cling.
The emotional opium thieved, mugged
The inner being of its purity
I depend on a substance which induced
The bruising of my own security.
That infringed protection I am reduced
To. Memories I’ll take to my near grave
From my life as an African child slave. . .

Freedom

I listened carefully amidst reposed
Calm. Admiring her façade, weak and strong –
Both rivals battling for turf. Exposed
As lovers in affairs they should belong.
She conquered mental wounds an unaided
Eye would be blind to see. A soul of man,
A mind of woman. Tears had evaded
Her long ago. A medicine began
To guard her spirit from the ocean’s cries,
Far away in a heaven not yet heard
Of. Strength: the healer. Hope and faith baptised
A woman made of velvet steel. Her words
Echoed, resounded back to my sewn heart –
Sojourner’s words I cannot be apart . . .

Leyland and Leyton

Leyland

A lot of folk feel proud of where they’re from
And find it is a very special place.
They love it for it is from where they come
And many have memories. So embrace
The fact that they belong and therefore they
Do hold a passion deep inside their heart.
However though many may feel this way
I find myself quite different and apart
From what many may feel about their home
Town. I am glad I’m no longer there and
Have found a special place that I call home
No matter the fact that it is not grand.
I love the multicultural scene which
Was missing and why we had made the switch.

Leyton

A lot of people may look down their nose
At people who are living in the east
They many not like the way they speak and those
Are the ones who I like to call The Beasts
However I don’t care what’s on their minds
For they should see exactly what it’s like
To not belong. And visits there remind
Me of the fact that there was much dislike
Of us which were based on such stupid grounds.
At least where I live now I don’t have to
Experience that feeling that surrounds
Those of a different colour trying to
Fit in. In Leyton there no room for this
For each and every colour here exists.

Faith and Doubt

Faith

We know with all our hearts that this is love
we celerbrate its everpresent joy
our faiths reminds us of a special dove
it's for girls and boys for all to enjoy
that would like to rest on a shoulder
who are mis-understood lonely teens
who are now quickly becoming older
and becoming aggressive and more mean
is faith the everlasting thing thats true
am I in what people say is the path
it's for old but what about the new
I believed once and all people did was laughed
I understand that it might be from God
and for that reason i now nod

Doubt

I wonder if my faith is still the truth
so listen to the words I tell you dear
the words I say aren't just for the young youth
who are immune to having any fear
for faith is only two thousand years old
so is it available for the new
also remember that we are now bold
I wonder if my faith is what is true
Evolution comes in us with a creep
into our gullible minds by night
onwards and up shall it finally leap
I wonder if my faith is what is right
no listen to the words when i say no
my mind is empty I just don't know

Friends or Enemies?

Friends

You are always there when I am alone,
especially through the hard and rough times.
You are a good friend that's what you've shown,
Your love is like a world of chimes.
You are someone whom i will share,
my secrets even the most embarrassing one.
You don't find them funny because you care.
Our friendship is like the sun.
It will never fade away.
You are more like a sister to me,
and we will never betray
each other. I will guarantee
you . Nobody will be a good friend like you.
We will always be together that's true.

Enemies

Enemies. That's a word we should not say,
because we should not have any.
But sometimes even best friends can turn away
and leave you in agony.
We could be friends, that's what i want,
but you already have chosen the way.
Your evilness is like a knifes sharp blunt,
which make my heart go hard as clay.
Jealousy closed your eyes.
It brought meanness, darkness, and
spitefulness to your heart,
which tore us apart and made hatefulness expand.
I know you want some space,
so i will leave you now, and you will never see my face.

Pain and Bliss

Pain
The sun may shine throughout this warming day,
And birds may cheap their melancholic notes,
But nothing can replace my soul. I pray
To God, asking for another thick coat
In which I can hide all insecurities.
The Man on Mars must surely understand
What it is like as The Impurity,
To be the one who may as well be banned.
Yet there! The clouds are forming an answer,
The Sun has stopped it’s gleeful shine and joy
And doused with clouds, like sorrow to dancers.
For I can feel there’s no point in rejoice.
Although our Lives seem like a sea of love,
For me it often means spilling my blood.

Bliss
Oh Dear boy, surely your not speaking true?
From what I’ve seen Life is adventurous,
Just take the time and you will see it too.
Do not remain so inconspicuous.
The flowers there are swaying left to right,
The wildlife thrives, it grows off atmosphere.
Just have a look. Quite the eye-candy sight,
Oh wouldn’t you say? Just move into gear
And notice nature’s signs of assured glee.
The Sun, The trees, The Bees, The cats, the dogs,
They’re all the clips that join to make a scene.
As dear boy, I hope you believe in God.
Oh you’re too young to understand the truth,
That beauty is out there, looking for you!

Life and Death

Please bear in mind that these are the first sonnets I have EVER written, so it may be a little lame.

Life

I've always known that we live in a world,
Where love is worth nothing and life's a game,
And since the dawn of mankind, hate unfurled
Its wings, robbing humankind of their shame.
For every child born, another one dies,
For every war that stops, another starts.
Each happy smile killed by a thousand cries
Our loved ones suffer from broken hearts.
Sick of it all, for restful death I cry;
I yearn for the peace of eternal sleep.
I beg for the Good Lord to let me lie
Away from the world that caused me to weep.
And when my life does end, I pray the Lord
Will grant me heaven as my own reward


Death

It took me, long before I was ready,
And flung me into a world of despair;
A land of loneliness, shade, tragedy,
Where darkness and sorrow hang in the air,
A storm grey cloud of emptiness. Where did
All the colours go? Green, blue, yellow, red?
All gone. I never did manage to bid
My farewells to the human world. Instead,
That goddess, Mother Nature snatched my life
Away, took my soul to a private hell
Where desolation is forever rife.
Life is precious. Though things may not go well,
It's all you'll get. Treasure it all. And so,
I must say this. Life is dear. Don't let go.

Love and Hate

This is my first EVER sonnet that i have EVER written so sorry if it's quite lame. :)

Love
I never thought I'd find someone
Who loves me the way you do, and
Looks out for me. You're like the sun
That has risen so high in the sky. Hands
intertwined, we walk with our heads held high
As if we're ready to fight the world, you
And me, together, as one. In the sky
Our future is written, and i see true
Love between you and me. You are my own
Survivor, you're my living proof, that love
Is alive and not dead. Our love has grown
Into something more, as all of the doves
Scatter around in the refreshing breeze
Showing the world what we're really made of.


Hate
Hate. Not a word I use alot, but when
I think of you, it's the only word that
Comes to my mind. You'd beat me around ten
Times when i speak my mind, tell me i'm fat
And starve me so that i become "better".
When you walk into the room, arrogance
Radiates from your body, an answer
Is all you need but you don't have patience.
So i get another beating, wishing
You would fall off the face of the earth but
You don't. I sit there, my body aching
From the pain you've caused me and yet i cut
My wrists, trying to free myself through death
Because I can't take the pain anymore.

Light and Dark

Light

Enlightenment is soul's flower. Light brings
The power to the best, shares buoyancy
To all the rest. With light we‘re queens and kings
Eyes that risk spotting the light, lively, free
Light offers knowledge and brilliance. Light
Is an award to the winner, and shows
Condolence to the loser. Light is bright!
Light is a virtue; not a horrible
Disadvantage. There’s light that’s shimmering
Within you that illuminates your soul.
They say it’s always been there glistening.
Darkness will no longer be in control!
There is a great light of life within you.
Live the life within. Let the light shine through.

Dark

The darkness is a pestilence that eats
You. The darkness taunts and teases you
It waits and waits until you are all set,
Then the dark closes in and devours you.
Mistiness is what is left of your soul
No more contentment, no more buoyancy,
It’s like a thunderstorm that makes a hole
Blocking light to your soul. Uncommonly
I feel warmth inside darkness. And I feel
Certain safety in the dark. The darkness
Can wrap around you, hiding, concealing
You from others sight. Absolute darkness.
We are all the same in the dark. Equal.
Darkness is two-faced; safety or just cruel.

Freedom and Guilt

Innocence.

Cocooned within a flawless form of what
should be, perfection follows soon behind.
I sometimes try to doubt its presence-but
then slowly it seeks refuge in my mind.
Emotions need to be abused some may
say, yet to those who curse and howl and many
oppose. I simply ask for them to please obey
commands they may receive. Although any
may seek demise from deep inside-observe
for I do not repeat my words, a spell
so binding few escape. Killing their verve,
the innocence once prized now forms a cell
for those to gullible to understand.
I weep abandoned-searching for a hand.

Guilt.

Perhaps I do not understand, correct
me if I'm wrong. Yet to my knowledge exists
no more a suffocating soul. Neglect
from all that was once real soon persists,
it leaves me dying from inside-this jars
my psyche out of sync, my mind is scarred.
I'm now another captive; penned by bars
that I can only cease to thwart, though hard
I try. This prison keeps me safe, so safe.
Imprisoned deep within my mind remains
what once persisted. Freedom used to chafe
until a point of no return. The chains
of guilt now bind me to a wall of pain,
which if removed-I'll always live in vain.