Gothic Poetry and the Paradox for Poison Party and Extra Credit
Here is my gothic poem: Around, all around, the shadows gather. My dread grows as the dagger of your words falls against my heart. It mutilates me, and darkly my blood drips to the swirling dust. In numbness I hand my head while nothingness surrounds me. Now alone, my vitae falls upon bleeding eyes. This is my Hell. Here is my poison party extra credit! I made some Pumpkin Patch Pudding with oreo bits, chocolate pudding, and pumpkin candies. I thought this represented a good juxtaposition between the suffering and dying (the dirt) and the flourishing and living (pumpkin). In literature, dirt can sometimes be lifeless and barren, devoid of nutrients. However, it has the potential of being nutritious and yielding a bountiful harvest. In my case, the lifeless soil (oreos and pudding) has sprung to life, even in the cold October weather, and it has produced many pumpkins (candy). My secret ingredient was seaweed, which was supposed to look like the pumpkin vines. Seaweed in n...
