Category Archives: English


          The only thing to fear is fear itself. At least, that’s what people said. For a while I followed that code and for a while it worked. I saw my confidence as something that could grow forever. The more that I did, the more I felt I was capable of. As time went on people started to watch me do my stunts. The cheers that I heard from the crowd was invigorating. It didn’t take long for me to go professional, everyone was always interested to see what I would do next.

          My doubts and fears disappeared quickly. People thought that I was as fearless as a lion and twice as proud. People saw what vehicles and ramps could really do and that attracted a lot of attention. People began to give everything to see me perform, and that only fueled my ambition.

          My stunts only got bigger and bigger to get a cheer the likes of which I had never heard before. I became dependant on their applause. Their joy became a drug so addicting I could never let it go. That drive got me far in this world. Everyone wanted to see me and I was happy to oblige. I wanted the best and it was given to me. Money, power, lovers I had the best of it all. With people pining for my passion there was nothing I could not do. I was king of the world and nothing or nobody could ever take that away from me.

          The stunts are still increasing in danger. I know that soon one of them will claim me, but what does it matter? I have survived countless tricks without so much as a scratch. I have aged, yet nobody can come close to my level of performance. Even my protégé pales in comparison to my greatness.

          But still, I grow older. I am no longer as quick as I used to be. Even the simplest jumps are becoming a struggle. I should stop, no I need to stop this before I kill myself. Even so my addiction to attention says otherwise. Even though I am slowing down it only thirsts for more. Unfortunately, I listen to its cries. I continue to do more and more dangerous stunts. The gift of fearlessness becoming a curse as I no longer know the concept of danger.

          I am performing when it finally happens. I reach the trick that kills me once and for all. I don’t know how it happened. One second I am racing up the ramp full speed, and the next I know I can’t reach the landing. My greed has lead me here and I hope it’s happy. I’ve spent my life amusing others rather than ensuring it’s a better place when I leave.

          In this moment I’m scared. Funny, the one prized for fearlessness now terrified and uncertain at what happens next. I was so focused on making defying death so interesting for others I didn’t stop to consider what happens when it catches up with me. No longer do I belong here, the reaper has finally claimed me and I no longer stand a chance. My deal with greed has come to collect and I am the only thing of value it wants. My comfort around danger has brought me to the greatest highs, and now the time has come for the lowest lows. Farewell.


For my poetry project I decided to look at five different types of poetry and then create a couple samples for the styles I studied. Fairly early in I found that love poetry actually felt far more powerful than most of the story based poetry styles. After I had decided my two favorite styles it was time to get to work. The process of writing the poetry both took longer and shorter than I had expected for backwards poetry proved easier than was expected, whereas the acrostic poem proved quite a challenge.

Writing the poetry was the best part of the project. You are able to just release your deepest thoughts and desires onto the page without any fear of rejection. Although creating the acrostic poem put me far behind schedule the time it took to create the backwards poem was so much faster than had expected once I figured out the trick to it. The trick was to create everything in two or three line bunches keeping in mind whether the non-fact line denied or accepted that which was above it. From there you just need to match the couplets together and then you have a poem!

I learned that writing poetry feels different than any other kind of writing. You are trying to make the reader feel you. You want them to understand your pain and struggle while still leaving them uplifted at the end. While that may sound impossible it is actually simpler than it sounds. With backwards poetry from the start you are constructing that tale provided you are writing the bottom while you’re writing the top. On the way down you can fill it with nothing but sadness and lost dreams and desires but on the way up you need be certain that you are still striving for them.

I also learned a little bit about showmanship through the presentation. When I presented my backwards poem on the way down I could see confusion and sadness on the face of my readers. But when I started to read from the bottom back up to the top the look of surprise and amusement was unmistakable on everyone’s face. Unfortunately near the end on the way down I read to fast and there was a small gap in time before the poem began to read back. Those few seconds could have been used to say any number of things that would only have made it more powerful unfortunately I am not an improviser. Those seconds were only used to confuse my audience and that is something I never want to have happen again.

In conclusion this project was surprisingly enlightening. While I was unsuccessful on modifying traditional styles of poetry, creating what I did still taught me much about the art as well as about myself. It was a magical experience and I hope to keep practicing and creating for a good long while.