This is a blog for Ms. Bailey's Greenwood High School students and the Literature Club at Greenwood High School. Keep it clean, be helpful and critique, but keep it polite. There are too many people that will put you down in the world - let's lift each other up! :o)
This is John William, I am a bishop, I live to serve God and always worship. Others and I are off on a journey, To see the wonderful Canterbury. My level of education is low, And my profession keeps me on the go. I can make the unreal seem to real, I do work for free, so there is no bill. Never do I dress the same as my lord, Nor, will you ever see me with a sword.
David Carnegie is on this trip too, Since he is poor he only wears one shoe. He has a wife with three kids, all are boys, Builds wagons for them to have as toys. Lives in his hometown in a wooden shack, Barely can afford to put clothes on his back. A Catholic and twenty-six years old, Such a good person, but sometimes to bold. Hangs out with people that are of his age, Carries a pet bird that lives in a cage.
Laura Smith is twenty-seven years old, From Morocco, where it is hot, not cold. A doctor, with a daughter and a son, The work she does weighs her down by a ton. Her family owns many kinds of land, Loves music, and wants to be in a band. Likes to spend time with her family a lot, Her best friend is her brother, whose name is Scott. She attended medical school in Spain, Is very wealthy and has much to gain.
Alyce loves to play the harp, but is poor, Known around town as nothing but a whore. She loves to sing and, make up dances, Very daring and likes to take chances. Has no education and always drunk, But has a hot body with a nice trunk. Taken in by the lady of Manor, She has bad English with poor grammar. She is very out-going and not shy, She stays with men one time and then says bye. Being on this journey has made me see, Just how good of a person I can be. This trip to Canterbury has been fun, I think that next year I will take my son. I have made many memories to share, And met lots of people that sowed me care. I have learned so many things on this trip, And shall give the host a wonderful tip. I am saddened to have to say good bye, Now I will leave you with nothing but a sigh.
O Fair maiden, Sir Thomas of Woodstock- Lord of the armies and of the King’s Stock. I fight for the weak and defeat the strong. With chivalrous ways, I never go wrong. My heart is as gold, my morals supreme, One loved by the girls and every one’s dream. Arose from poor life into my high place, I am an idol for honor, for grace. Come and be with your new hearts desire; Forget these poor oafs, come sit by my fire.
Just look at this man, his name, William Smith: His heart is of peace, his strength is a myth. Man with a wife and seven kids to feed, From plain to meek, religion is his deed. A man that knows not of what you would want, He has been with one girl—inept to flaunt; He would not love you, not well like I could, His goal not glory, his heart is for good. Who wants to be his? Nay, you would do well, If you come with me, and ring your sweet bell.
Come look at this one, but only a Quack. His studies consume his mind and his sack; Sir Stench of Dung Heap, no wonder his name, His body’s sweet smell is one of great fame. A doctor by trade, ironic his smell, He came on this trip with something to sell. Do not let him fool you for a short time, His taste in fine sound is worse than his wine. So come; tell your tale. You will see the fine Things of this great world, my taste is sublime.
Poor engineer stands in an ugly sack, Of course, you want more to put on your back. Another family man, three girls at home, But satisfied not, he longs still to roam. He cheated six times, is that what you want? His voice, quite annoying, always to taunt. The way that he speaks is his way to flaunt What little he has, what little you want. Another fine man, another fine choice, But not best for you and your songbird’s voice.
So here am I now, your valiant brave knight- Lord of the army, your bringer of light, With much wealth to share, and much to give you. Come to my castle; I will sing a new Great song not yet heard, a royal affair. I cannot forget the smell of your hair. Will you come with me to my great kingdom, To taste of my wine and apple and plum? Your beauty astounds me, a perfect match. That is the reason why I want to catch You in my great arms and welcome you in To all that you want, your knight you can win.
Let me begin with my introduction; I master the fine art of seduction. Rebecca Harpman is my given name. By my sanguine display, I have gained fame. I tell fantasy tales with melodies. My harp’s song, all ailments, it remedies. I have a life spent in mobility; Comfort I find in instability. I always welcome a good adventure; This is why, on this journey, I venture.
The Prime Minister
He is known as Sir Thomas Of Woodstock. His righteousness comes in undersized stock, For he defends the rape of a poor girl With the code of chivalry. I near hurl From the mere thought of this arrogant swine. His pleasure he finds in women and wine. His life is spent traveling through the land. He only serves under King Richard’s hand. Over the armies, he is commander. His most renowned attribute is slander.
The Shepherd
David is his name. Such a nice youngster; Much more pleasant than the prime minister. Being the youngest son of a farm man, He was not left with any bit of land. He lives life apart from society; His flock is his only reality. A man simple, honest, and trustworthy, Who wants a woman of his love worthy. Perhaps on this journey he will find her Or the adventure he needs, encounter.
The Doctor
He presents himself as Gustav Proctor. On this trip, he is our only Doctor. With more money than he knows how to spend, He is in search of another to mend. Owns fine clothes and lives extravagantly, This man who only trusts reality. No room for God in his life of fine dine, But more than enough for a sip of wine. Ailments made up to allot cures and herbs. Will earn him gold on this journey superb.
Of the travelers, there is much to be said. More sins are in this bunch than can be read. Some have a purpose to go on this quest, The others have one yet to be expressed. Few want to honor St. Thomas Becket; Most, this trip, for selfishness they take it. Even some have identities purloined. People so diverse have never been joined. Whatever our reason or circumstance, With this voyage we get a second chance.
A noble dreamer-minstrel, on a trip Heldagrad of Aragon ran a ship Natalia Mill, a crossdressing knight Sir Thomas of Woodstock gave women fright On way to Canterbury, met these folks Pretty sorry people, their lives are jokes I am a Catholic, I spread God’s peace These savage people, they all act like beasts I worship God and will not let Him down When God sees these people, you know he frowns
Heldagrad of Aragon fought in war Many of God’s people, their lives he tore He fought in that war of one hundred years So many deaths, so many unjust tears He was a captain, he sailed in a ship Coming to Canterbury-no hard trip He was so angry, he needs to be bright His language is course, he must make it right He goes with his women one at a time I want to correct him, but it’s a crime
Nathaniel Mill became a black knight But if others knew, there would be a sight Nathaniel’s really Natalia Nothing like cross-dressing nostalgia She has a daughter and takes care of mom She needs a knight’s pay. Is that really wrong? Church every Sunday, thinks she’s the best You need to be humble just like the rest Too competitive, you should not outdo Too bad everyone’s better than you
Sir Thomas of Woodstock I cannot stand To get to the crown-seventh in command Lord High Constable of this great country He is the commander of the army A judge in court but does not go to church Before he goes on, the Lord he must search He rapes more women than I ever thought Maybe as many as the men he fought From humble origins he might have come This guy is reckless and Godless and dumb
My journey was worth it to see the saint But I met some people that I just hate An angry captain, a cross-dressing knight And some Godless rapist that loves to fight I may promote peace, I know hate is bad But these worthless people make me so mad Woman and Men all dressed as the latter They think all their sin will never matter Deep down I know that all people mean well But these people here are going to hell
I make music that you have never heard I go places that you have never seen I dream things that no one else dares to dream I believe in things that could get me shot Great ideas begin with only one thought I am a dancer on a sunny day I let my mind carry me far away I am perceived as slightly off center My lackadaisical ways put me out My name is Jane, and I am a dreamer
Promiscuous girl, they already know I do not have my riches to offer I never found my own careless father I do not have belief in any God If he existed I would have a home Instead I find solace in many men Ending in the same place as I began Often crying and out in the cold air My life is not much without my despair All I wanted was somebody who cares I am Rebecca, the lonely minstrel
I live a desolate fake existence I am a woman trapped in a mans world I am bitter to the depths of my core My sister left behind a baby girl She is my own and I gave her a home It may be the only love I will know I confess my sins every Sunday morn Maybe that is why in life I am torn And why I compete with everyone else I am a black knight, known as Nathaniel
I am a crucial but disgusting man I am the drunkest doctor in the land I have three kiddies who were not much planned Forty two years has not aged me one bit I often pass gas and many times spit I have not much faith in the church at all Spiritual men do nothing but fall I help my patients lush their way to health Not many object as their stomachs swell Sir Stench of Dung Heap, the noted doctor
My mother died when I was a child My father gave up and I became wild A nomadic girl later on I was The sad sheep were all I could relate to I was a lot like them or so I thought Others saw me as a psychotic case That was most people’s most popular phrase My five brothers and sisters are deranged Even though most of them I helped to raise I am a lone shepherd, Katherine Gabes
On to Canterbury We Wenda by Blake Dennard We were on our way to Canterbury Everyone was glad it was not dreary No one in our group had met each other This made the trip iffy but no bother Don’t pack many clothes because we’re walking But no one heard because they were talking Before we left we chose to eat away Then we thought it was time to start the day We’d have no horse, just our feet So it’d wise to take water not meat
Alyce
Alyce is quite poor, but thinks she’s the best Alyce even likes to get with the rest Music was something that she knew about She also liked to dance without a doubt If there was rum around, she wasn’t dumb Alyce would always find how to get some She enjoys being as free as a bird But only when she can find the heard Halfway through the trip she asked where we were We stopped and then began to stare at her
David
Racing down a hill he heard the great news Exstatic he went and prayed in the pews Already he had three strong, strapping boys All the girls tried to get them to be toys David had come on the trip from England He was determined to work with his hand But he couldn’t get away from racing He just really enjoys that kind of thing He thinks his family is what’s important The best addition was his new infant
Margret
Margret likes to be extremely Godly And she likes to be really heavenly Anything outdoors she will always do As long as she does not receive the flu Margret is hoping for a new career Even though all she likes to drink is beer So she thinks she might work at a nice pub But she says it would be fun at a club Because she is only nineteen years old The only thing she could do is clean mold
Canterbury is where we ended up But we did not have water in our cup Coming from various places was fun And I was glad all we had was the sun Clothes ended up not being any an issue We all just smelt a little like shu shu When we arrived we wanted to eat away So we got some food but then had to pay The walking made our feet a tad tired So we decided we had retired
Wes, I really like your word usage when describing Sir Stench of Dung Heap, Matt McCays character. You did really well on keeping your rhyme scheme. LOVES!!!
Amanda, you should spell worship worshop in the second sentence first stanza. Ha Ha Ha. Just kidding. You went completely in the guidlines of the assignment. Good job! Taylor Houchens
On a journey to find the gold hidden By the family ancient and forbidden. Their name is Ianuzzie and they stashed their gold in Venesuzi. I have been mashed In with a group of selfish, loathsome, prigs. They come from afar wanting zilch but gigs, Personal stars, and the treasure for starts. They have many a carts, charts, parts, and tarts, None of which is shared with the poor in marts. They eat like pigs and have horrible farts.
I am a minstrel, my name is William I have a wife at home but no children. I live in Nottingham, and play guitar In all of the local taverns and bars. I Gather information to black mail you Rich, to help the poor survive through and through. I own a house a lute a flute a harp And my guitar. I eat well fish like carp, And vegetables well grown from my garden. I will never have to be pardoned. I am not corrupt, I do not take bribes. I go to church every Sunday to feel vibes. From the preacher to the people of England I am good and do not live in wrong land.
Francis Drake is a real “good” man who lives With kin in Stone Gate and never forgives. He is rich in material goods very Earthy and merry living in his large airy Mansion on the south cost of Italy. He eats the best food and is not itty bitty He serves only himself and wants to be richer He lives in bars and gets carried pitchers. He seems a good man till you find his bull He is large and round as a mead barrel full.
Paul Passonionne another trav’ler Walking along he is a treasurer. He is not the purest soul on this trip. Passonionne is not only his chip, It is also his name. Sleeping around and passion are his games. He always abounds In gold and gems stolen from his lords grounds. He wears a cloak of purest white a clowns Face his horrible mace. A catholic Devout and a raging alcoholic. Charms and blessings cover his place a kings Ransom he paid for his grace in a ring With blessing from a priest. He is a beast.
This is my tale the trip to Venesuzi To find the gold left by Ianuzzie. So who do you help a giver of gold, Or a prig who wants nothing but to ahold Only more gold. The choice is up to you So please don’t be witless, help the poor, blue, True man who is trying to help you too. Because I will share the found gold with you I need your help the more the better, to Few and the gold will never be found, so Ignore the others, they will keep the stow.
They call me Alyce, from the village way I am a minstrel, my harp I do play Wine intoxicates me day and night Men are my weakness, so lovely and bright I am the most charming maiden by far Traveling this road by light of a star To Canterbury I am going now With companions strange as it is allowed Most go for faith, travel, or their leisure All of whom make me quite displeasured
I find myself surrounded by these fools Critical I am of their holy ruse They think themselves so highly besought But I see through such idiotic thought I work every day to see little wealth Food is a hard fight, so I turn to stealth They have whatever they so desire All by greed they have their things acquired While I seek truth and beauty in this life They have only their pain, fury, and strife
There goes with us a doctor by his trade With a good family of three he’s made A ridiculous bugger with no sense Medical school has made him no less dense He has been three times before it he passed Now in practice for fifteen years this last Riding in a stupid boat every day He gives less care to patients in his way On a vacation, with our group he goes Maybe he’ll die in some violent throes
A black knight comes from the rear this long hour His name is Nethaniel, with a face so sour Though I think there is more than meets the eye He looks like a lady and I know why What a cocky fellow he or she is Loves the contests for entertainment give He is a snobbish, self- righteous liar Says he goes for pilgrimage in this mire I think it is just a matter of time Before he is exposed of his ill crime
Last but not least there is my favorite One who is the king of all hypocrites The prime minister, at head of our line What a dirty, slimy rotten old swine He takes his women for his property Brutal and cruel in his blunt mockery Drunk in wine and foul in his throaty voice He thinks all “ethical”, the king’s best choice The most repulsive companion by far I hope he suffocates in a bath of tar
Now you can see on this clear stuffy night My journey is an ugly, awful sight I hope this road soon comes to a swift end Or I may find myself gone ‘round the bend While my horse keeps moving so slowly on Maybe I can sleep a bit before dawn Unless the carousing continues, then I’ll be up, lost in roaring noise again I hope there is a good man for me there To cleanse the dirt from this my whole affair
From lands far away in Monte Carlo, I come to here with a horse that I borrow. From Cartier family, the royal courts, The Youngest of five, a spoiled one of sorts. Highly educated at Fontainbleau Some say I am spoiled and snooty too. Attending University in France, Intellect of politics, art of dance. My one true desire is to play harp, All the tools in the shed, I am not sharp.
Old Francis Drake, merry man of Stonegate. But as for Protestants, he’s filled with hate. Perfect family, the pets, the job, With his long ponytail, somewhat a slob. Very religious a devout Catholic, Carrying his Bible, his faith idyllic. He seems far too kind, and almost unreal. Carries himself with such passion and zeal. He seems to dislike me, thinks me a snoot. As far as I care, I don’t give a hoot.
Giovanni so proud, head in the cloud, With so much power and his voice so loud. Travels the world, nobility I heard, Making all crowds hang on his every word. Fluent in many languages he speak, It is his for his soul he comes to seek. With all of his power he does no harm Instead cheers everyone with his good charm. Perhaps he will find what he’s searching for, Then his purpose complete in this great lore.
As for Lord Constable, so much to say, He lives a wealthy power to this day. A chivalrous man with crossbow and sword. He greets every lady with such kind word. Strong and flattering, desired by all. A fashionable man never to fall. So unmerciful, impulsive and strong, So one dare not mess with him for too long. A great chief judge of the chivalry court, Loves music and wine and parties of sort.
We finish our journey and tell our tale, So glad to venture here along this trail. Just singing and playing with every step, Enjoying my time like I did at Prep. One searches for answers, another soul. As for what I search, my story untold. Ready to start on my journey back home, Wanting to begin a journey to Rome. I now know that people are not as they seem. In every person a struggle unseen.
Introduction The saga takes place on a summers end, Departing at noon, our journey begin. A harlot, a knight, and priest all present, To Canterbury to return with present. They were all famous, in some unique way, Some more moral, others a disarray. The cluster were a spectacle to see, They were all more than ecstatic to flee. The journey leaves as they begin their fun, Look, the harlot, she’s already begun.
The Harlot The woman sat in her white petite lace, Staring at the men in the market place. She was renowned for her so-called …style, The men did not love her for …smile. She loved teasing men and making them smirk, With these men, it would definitely work. When one walked up to her and said “Good Day!” She turned to face him and said “Eww, no way!” So you see she was not a pretty face, Actually she was quite a disgrace.
The Knight Now the knight spent most his days on a horse, And he made sure he had his sword, of course. At night he took girls dancing with ladies, Then go home without his wife, Mercedes. This knight was the same as the ones you know, He wanted to kill someone, just for show. A man asked him one day what he lived for, He thought, “I’m not sure” and thought nothing more. His friends thought he would not ever succeed, He is one of a quickly dying breed.
The Priest A holy man and a servant of God, The Bible was his rule, his staff, his rod. He preached Catholicism at the Church, Back home, where he resided, in Pike Burch. He was ten times more moral than the rest, He absolutely tried his very best. With all the immoral actions around, All he could do was pray, knelt at the ground. He taught the group on the eleventh day, He could not help but feel full of dismay.
The Conclusion Now heading back home, the end almost hear, Look in the distance, Canterbury is near. The preacher is set, the others are not, Sadly no morals improved a whole lot. They will go back to their average lives, As soon as the lot returns and arrives. The harlot will remain “doing” her best, The knight will return back to Fresno, blessed. The priest will continue preaching and such, He knew that they did not learn very much.
rebecca, very good poem, it flows very nice. but in the second stanza the third and fourth lines sound a little awkward. the rhyme sheme is very good thoughout the poem.
Many a blissful travel I have flown To many a far land, yet near to home Of the borderland shire I am borne And for which my soul does not sorely yorne As I thereto carry with a lieght tune Magical tales best told under the moon Few baubles, brightly colored, gaily clad As I make my travels with lesser cads Of whose bitter morals are questionable And whose judgements, I am quite capable
A young knight, foremost, noble in fable His manners are wanton at the table Discoverers, valiant at land and sea A prime minister, beleaguered yet free Many kinsmen, all of whom I despise All oft to Canterbury, wherein lies The blessed martyr of goode Sir Thomas Acknowledgement would be a false promise Of the maiden you now harken to hear Truths that I speake of such men in yon ear
The knight, now a lord, though not nearly olde I considered first, for he was quite bolde As well as rather odd, being borne far From noble birth, he was not up to par For the noble code of chivalry past Braggart in his position, his tales fast In the coming, of people much forlorn His pilgrimage, I fear, I did not learn Nay, dear traveler, please show him your charm The noblewomen, he does keep from harm
The first of the discoverers found life On the dark waters of Poseidon's wife He willingly plundered from persons free He is greatly sought for, for a fee, Revels in finery on this journey After speaking of his hate for tourneys Yet on the battlefield, he cannot lose Fighting like a demon, he cannot chose For his father's goodly soul, he forgoes To Canterbury, as I have told ago
The second of the discoverers found That wisdom, age, and sin could not abound In the same house, as his time drew nearer He realized his goal had become clearer A disciple of Aristotle gone, Yet an honest bred man, who heard my song Of his travels, he spoke of the seasons And bade me quick to keep his reason The pilgrimage to save his mortal soul To Becket's tomb he goes, knowing the toll
The prime minister, a nobly bred man Enjoyed his position as a man can Fine things he craved, based on his position Many laws were of his composition His distinguishable feature, his face Ruddy acrosst his head, he liked to pace He frequents courts more than minstels involved With him, many a problem is resolved I highly doubt his claim of a false con A disease of the loins drives him on
Many of my kinsmen you will soon find Minstrels all, and with the same goal in mind To immortalize their own pride and fame By the telling of the martyr's kind name Now, dear friend, there is no need for alarm You will find none of us mean you any harm In fact, slack your thirst with much ale and cheer With one of the many eager mouths here Ease the night with a tart of blueberry Whilst I continue to Canterbury
(I'm aware of the extra lines here and there, but it is because the space is too small. They form ten lines on paper.)
Having sailed across many a sea, I have encountered many a sad plea Of which had caused my crew much a struggle Too many times we have had to smuggle I have survived these times to live once more To do anything else would be a bore During these adventures I met three men I judge them now, because they are not my kin They bring shame to themselves being alive So I become irate watching them thrive
A man of England has a sad life He has many kids and an ugly wife This man of religion and peace seems meek Cares only for his family; not the weak A man such as this is bogged in regret I have no cure for this deviant yet He lives a dream where he “can not” be hurt Knowing reality rips through his shirt He prolongs his life as if it were myth His wretched title is Sir William Smith
The second man, I met through my travel He let “it” hang he let “it” unravel He a handsome mad had all the women One came sour much like a lemon He layed her to bed and much to his fright He woke with an illness to my delight He got his upens for what he had done Lying and cheating I bet that was fun Now he will suffer untimely regret That title of his was Passionnete
An orphan from England was loved by none This boy felt important though he was shun He a Sheppard, a job fit for peasants He had no money, he gave no presents The orphan Sheppard had no will to live He felt sad for his life, he would not give No words of kindness toward any kid Thought of himself, but he would not be hid He was completely oblivious to all David was his name, headed toward a fall
This trip toward Canterbury was tough Adventuring with these fiends made it rough I listened to them speak, although they reek Reek of tremendous lies, sounds, and critique I went for my father who died in war Although they knew this, they pressed it for more This built a sense of distain between us They kept ignoring me, I did not fuss The journey was over before I knew Thanked god for that, I could start over anew
My (Not) Lovely Journey to Canterbury Amanda Vickous (aka) Alyce
They call me Alyce, from the village way I am a minstrel, my harp I do play. Wine intoxicates me day and night Men are my weakness, so lovely and bright. I am the most charming maiden by far, Traveling this road by light of a star. To Canterbury I am going now, With companions strange as the world allows. Most go for faith, travel, or their leisure All of whom leave me with much displeasure.
I find myself surrounded by these fools Critical I am of their “holy” tools. They think themselves so highly besought, But I see through such idiotic thought. I work every day to see little wealth Food is a hard fight, so I turn to stealth. They have whatever they so desire All by greed their thing they do acquire While I seek truth and beauty in this life, They have only their pain, fury, and strife.
There goes with us a doctor by his trade With a good family of three he’s made. A ridiculous bugger with no sense Medical school has made him no less dense. He has been three times before it he passed, Now in practice for fifteen years this last. Riding in a stupid boat every day, He gives less care to patients in his way! On a vacation, with our group he goes Maybe he’ll die in some violent throes.
A black knight comes up front this long hour His name is Nethaniel, with skin so sour. Though I think there is more than meets the eye; He looks like a lady and I know why. Such a cocky fellow is she or he Loves the contests like honey for a bee. He is a snobbish, self-righteous liar A pilgrimage? It can’t even make fire! I think it is just a matter of time, Before he is exposed of his ill crime. Last but not least there is my “favorite”, One who is the king of each hypocrite. The prime minister, at head of our line What a dirty, slimy, rotten, old swine! He takes his women for his property Brutal and cruel in his blunt mockery. So drunk in his wine and foul in his voice He thinks all “ethical”, the king’s best choice. The most repulsive companion by far, I hope he suffocates in a bath of tar.
Now you can see on this clear stuffy night, My journey is an ugly, awful sight! I hope this road soon comes to a swift end, Or I may find myself gone ‘round the bend. While my horse keeps moving so slowly on, Maybe I can sleep a bit before dawn. Unless the carousing continues, then I’ll be up, lost in roaring noise again. I hope there is a good man for me there To cleanse the dirt from this my whole affair!
wes, I think I already posted this but it's not showing up. your poem was good, it flowed very well and you kept up the rhyme scheme. very good. amanda v.
bob, i like the heavy sarcasm in your poem, also they rhyme scheme was very well kept up. It sort of has a nice beat to it, maybe you could make it a song! lol amanda v.
Amanda B. in the first paragraph, you need to retype the "unreal seems ro real". And in the second paragraph you need to re-arrange the 26 year old Catholic.
I was traveling down the road, I roam Heading to Canterbury from my home My home is Wiltshire where my hearth and girl Where I am advisor to the Earl My faith is my pillar and it is quite large But at my hearth I am always in charge The lies, they fall from my passionate lips Especially for those with large round hips My perceptions maybe a bit askewed Or the other travelers need review
He swore to be the greatest of them all He looked Scandinavian and quite tall One fine sir was especially dashing And had many a coin for the flashing. He was a great chancellor of the king with passions for many pretty young things He went to war to settle many a great score But when he came back he just wanted more He carried a long sword, tall and mighty But with love always seemed a bit flighty
A boorish traveler then joined with us He was an explorer that smelled of muss Born on the sea he had an air of salt He was quite blunt and always finding fault His short temper was always on fire But to try and fight him would be dire He lives without lies, only honesty Sometimes though his life seems very nasty He was a fine fellow, quite upstanding His standards for life were too demanding
The third one I met, a minstrel she was Her hair long and flowing like downy fuzz Her music had consumed her very life But for this she lacked any known strife She was a passionate muse very fair But I will never forget that long hair Her other occupation: shoe making Left her with no money for the taking She was poor but she still was to travel Allowing her splendid tales unravel
This was the motley crew I traveled with Now all I will need is a very great smith Some of them were happy without a care While others had worries they could not share They were without a fear of pestilence And some were lacking homely residence A very merry trip we are to have Especially with the start we will have So I bid you a very fair adieu For I have to find a bed and ensue
My life has seemed to have been a short one, But to me it seems it is close to done. My mother passed away when I was small, But my sister and I always stood tall. And my father was a hard working man, We usually ate out of a can. So we all six willingly did our chores, And were told to be careful on the floors. We always listened to what we were told, And didn't complain about the gross mold. I looked left at a woman of her own, Pink, orange and yellow jewels all were sewn. Into her dress of flowing cloth and string, She seemed to want all eyes, such as a king. And she carried a long wood box with strings, And it made a noise when it bumped into things. She talked about sleeping out in the cold, But it puzzled me that she was not old. Sleeping outside without a home to claim, Is not a very decent claim to fame. And to my right was a man in metal, But he smelt of soap and a rose petal. And when he spoke he seemed to be straining, It was not his voice he was portraying. He told me his name was Nat-Nathaniel, I just stared at him, as he scratched his heel. And when he coughed, it was very alto, He talked as if we were all very low. I’m not sure what he was trying to play, But he was a woman, as long as day. The woman in front of me looked tired, Compared to the others who seemed wired. And she smelt of a strong, passionate smoke, Her eyes were dark pink, as if they were poked. Her skin is not smooth, but had a rough look, Like an old, wore out cover of a book. And every animal that would pass by, She would stare at it, turn her head, and sigh. She was a very unique character, It seems to me she has freedom hunger. As I think about myself and my past, I know why people look at me and laugh. Because they do not know my life story, If I told them it would be too boring. But everyone that looks at you thinks that, They’ll know who you are, a minute flat. You just see the surface and nothing else, You could have been the one drilled with three nails. So next time you look at someone around, Know that they may or may not be home bound.
Loretta Isaacs, yes that is my name. I am born into a family of fame. Child of the Prince of the city of gold, Everyone says that I am very bold. I was educated in Salerno And now am a doctor in Morocco. I am married to the Prince of Lipscomb. And thus, we have a daughter and a son. Very closely knit, is my family, McDaniel, being our very own hamley.
The Craftsman A craftsman of wood and wagons with speed, Mr. Carnegie is married, indeed. Living in his hometown and in a shack, He wears old, tattered clothing on his back. Has a low level of education, He has three children of his relation. With a family, he is still a loner, A Catholic member, and a store owner. A short, funny man who is so cocky, Women love him because he is stocky.
The Bishop A rich man who loves to wear lavish clothes, His spare time he enjoys acting in shows. Friendly man who came from England alone, John William had parties that were well known. Too good for lower class people he seemed, Low level of education, he beamed, Inspired by his dreams and fantasies, He never gave any apologies. A fat man with glasses and dark grey hair, He never had an illegal affair.
The Black Knight A young woman who was full of herself, Enjoyed sports and had trophies on the shelf. She uses the I.D. of her brother. She tends to her one niece as a mother. She travels to find religious guidance, With these people who formed an alliance. She is only friends with the highest rank. Self righteously, she helped to rob a bank. She drinks regularly and becomes drunk, Often passing out on the bottom bunk.
With all their bags packed and ready to go, They ate breakfast and then the host said, “So. Let us be on our way through the journey, Five of us will head off in a hurry.” Only to return home one week later, To reunite with our friends and traders. We will be welcomed home with open arms, Only to get back to work on the farms. We thank our host for our wonderful trip, We all pitched in and gave him a great tip!
Loretta Isaacs, yes that is my name. I am born into a family of fame. Child of the Prince of the city of gold, Everyone says that I am very bold. I was educated in Salerno And now am a doctor in Morocco. I am married to the Prince of Lipscomb. And thus, we have a daughter and a son. Very closely knit, is my family, McDaniel, being our very own hamley.
The Craftsman A craftsman of wood and wagons with speed, Mr. Carnegie is married, indeed. Living in his hometown and in a shack, He wears old, tattered clothing on his back. Has a low level of education, He has three children of his relation. With a family, he is still a loner, A Catholic member, and a store owner. A short, funny man who is so cocky, Women love him because he is stocky.
The Bishop A rich man who loves to wear lavish clothes, His spare time he enjoys acting in shows. Friendly man who came from England alone, John William had parties that were well known. Too good for lower class people he seemed, Low level of education, he beamed, Inspired by his dreams and fantasies, He never gave any apologies. A fat man with glasses and dark grey hair, He never had an illegal affair.
The Black Knight A young woman who was full of herself, Enjoyed sports and had trophies on the shelf. She uses the I.D. of her brother. She tends to her one niece as a mother. She travels to find religious guidance, With these people who formed an alliance. She is only friends with the highest rank. Self righteously, she helped to rob a bank. She drinks regularly and becomes drunk, Often passing out on the bottom bunk.
With all their bags packed and ready to go, They ate breakfast and then the host said, “So. Let us be on our way through the journey, Five of us will head off in a hurry.” Only to return home one week later, To reunite with our friends and traders. We will be welcomed home with open arms, Only to get back to work on the farms. We thank our host for our wonderful trip, We all pitched in and gave him a great tip!
As of 10:15pm on 03-05-08, I am missing poems from: Jessica, Natalie, Hannah, Matt Mc, Tony, Lauren, Jonathan, and Shannon.
Those people need to respond to each other's poems, NOT to those that have posted above this message in the Blog.
Those who have already posted above this message and still need to respond to 3 other people's poems, do so with the poems submitted above this message.
You are doing a great job! I like seeing the consructive criticism!!!
I live in a land far from Canterbury, In Stonegate, Italy is where I married. Builder they call me for I built the church, Their house, their barns, and also their porch. Religion is apart of my family, Catholic they call us were almighty. I’m a wealthy person from my building, But I’m not greedy, I’m accepting. I’m on a voyage to Canterbury, To find my treasure, which is Rose Mary.
On the journey there was a minstrel, He had nothing but a bad apparel. He had brown ugly shoes with dirt on them, He also had a shirt with a coral gem. He would ride on his horse with a guitar, His playing was so utterly bizarre. He is a very mysterious guy, For all he does is look at other guys. He is a fine prevaricator too, Because apparently his shoes are new.
There was also another minstrel, She was nothing but drunken mongrel. She slept around several times before that, With all the men that would get near that. She had messy bundled up hair that smelt stale. She was even slower than small snail. But she sure did think she was something too, All she wore was something from Peru. It was very flashy in all purple, But all of her cloths smelt like bake apples.
The last minstrel was the prettiest one, Her hair brown, was long and had it all done. She looked highly educated to be here, But something tells me she looks austere. She has an instrument that is a harp, She plays the strings with every tune so sharp. She wears very highly expensive cloths, She has a white long gown from neck to toe. And she also wears flowers on her head, That she made by hand with needle and thread.
My way to Canterbury was all fun, I just wanted to shoot them with a gun. The annoying instrument playing fools, To the whore minstrel to use guys as tools. I think I might have developed a hate, For those people, I think I lost my fate. When I finally arrived at the place I walked over to a beautiful face. Rose Mary who is not one I married, For I can say I have done my duty.
46 comments:
To Canterbury We Go
By: Amanda Bailey
This is John William, I am a bishop,
I live to serve God and always worship.
Others and I are off on a journey,
To see the wonderful Canterbury.
My level of education is low,
And my profession keeps me on the go.
I can make the unreal seem to real,
I do work for free, so there is no bill.
Never do I dress the same as my lord,
Nor, will you ever see me with a sword.
David Carnegie is on this trip too,
Since he is poor he only wears one shoe.
He has a wife with three kids, all are boys,
Builds wagons for them to have as toys.
Lives in his hometown in a wooden shack,
Barely can afford to put clothes on his back.
A Catholic and twenty-six years old,
Such a good person, but sometimes to bold.
Hangs out with people that are of his age,
Carries a pet bird that lives in a cage.
Laura Smith is twenty-seven years old,
From Morocco, where it is hot, not cold.
A doctor, with a daughter and a son,
The work she does weighs her down by a ton.
Her family owns many kinds of land,
Loves music, and wants to be in a band.
Likes to spend time with her family a lot,
Her best friend is her brother, whose name is Scott.
She attended medical school in Spain,
Is very wealthy and has much to gain.
Alyce loves to play the harp, but is poor,
Known around town as nothing but a whore.
She loves to sing and, make up dances,
Very daring and likes to take chances.
Has no education and always drunk,
But has a hot body with a nice trunk.
Taken in by the lady of Manor,
She has bad English with poor grammar.
She is very out-going and not shy,
She stays with men one time and then says bye.
Being on this journey has made me see,
Just how good of a person I can be.
This trip to Canterbury has been fun,
I think that next year I will take my son.
I have made many memories to share,
And met lots of people that sowed me care.
I have learned so many things on this trip,
And shall give the host a wonderful tip.
I am saddened to have to say good bye,
Now I will leave you with nothing but a sigh.
The Chancellor of England
Wes Brooks
O Fair maiden, Sir Thomas of Woodstock-
Lord of the armies and of the King’s Stock.
I fight for the weak and defeat the strong.
With chivalrous ways, I never go wrong.
My heart is as gold, my morals supreme,
One loved by the girls and every one’s dream.
Arose from poor life into my high place,
I am an idol for honor, for grace.
Come and be with your new hearts desire;
Forget these poor oafs, come sit by my fire.
Just look at this man, his name, William Smith:
His heart is of peace, his strength is a myth.
Man with a wife and seven kids to feed,
From plain to meek, religion is his deed.
A man that knows not of what you would want,
He has been with one girl—inept to flaunt;
He would not love you, not well like I could,
His goal not glory, his heart is for good.
Who wants to be his? Nay, you would do well,
If you come with me, and ring your sweet bell.
Come look at this one, but only a Quack.
His studies consume his mind and his sack;
Sir Stench of Dung Heap, no wonder his name,
His body’s sweet smell is one of great fame.
A doctor by trade, ironic his smell,
He came on this trip with something to sell.
Do not let him fool you for a short time,
His taste in fine sound is worse than his wine.
So come; tell your tale. You will see the fine
Things of this great world, my taste is sublime.
Poor engineer stands in an ugly sack,
Of course, you want more to put on your back.
Another family man, three girls at home,
But satisfied not, he longs still to roam.
He cheated six times, is that what you want?
His voice, quite annoying, always to taunt.
The way that he speaks is his way to flaunt
What little he has, what little you want.
Another fine man, another fine choice,
But not best for you and your songbird’s voice.
So here am I now, your valiant brave knight-
Lord of the army, your bringer of light,
With much wealth to share, and much to give you.
Come to my castle; I will sing a new
Great song not yet heard, a royal affair.
I cannot forget the smell of your hair.
Will you come with me to my great kingdom,
To taste of my wine and apple and plum?
Your beauty astounds me, a perfect match.
That is the reason why I want to catch
You in my great arms and welcome you in
To all that you want, your knight you can win.
Let me begin with my introduction;
I master the fine art of seduction.
Rebecca Harpman is my given name.
By my sanguine display, I have gained fame.
I tell fantasy tales with melodies.
My harp’s song, all ailments, it remedies.
I have a life spent in mobility;
Comfort I find in instability.
I always welcome a good adventure;
This is why, on this journey, I venture.
The Prime Minister
He is known as Sir Thomas Of Woodstock.
His righteousness comes in undersized stock,
For he defends the rape of a poor girl
With the code of chivalry. I near hurl
From the mere thought of this arrogant swine.
His pleasure he finds in women and wine.
His life is spent traveling through the land.
He only serves under King Richard’s hand.
Over the armies, he is commander.
His most renowned attribute is slander.
The Shepherd
David is his name. Such a nice youngster;
Much more pleasant than the prime minister.
Being the youngest son of a farm man,
He was not left with any bit of land.
He lives life apart from society;
His flock is his only reality.
A man simple, honest, and trustworthy,
Who wants a woman of his love worthy.
Perhaps on this journey he will find her
Or the adventure he needs, encounter.
The Doctor
He presents himself as Gustav Proctor.
On this trip, he is our only Doctor.
With more money than he knows how to spend,
He is in search of another to mend.
Owns fine clothes and lives extravagantly,
This man who only trusts reality.
No room for God in his life of fine dine,
But more than enough for a sip of wine.
Ailments made up to allot cures and herbs.
Will earn him gold on this journey superb.
Of the travelers, there is much to be said.
More sins are in this bunch than can be read.
Some have a purpose to go on this quest,
The others have one yet to be expressed.
Few want to honor St. Thomas Becket;
Most, this trip, for selfishness they take it.
Even some have identities purloined.
People so diverse have never been joined.
Whatever our reason or circumstance,
With this voyage we get a second chance.
Good Trip, Bad Company
Bob Givens
A noble dreamer-minstrel, on a trip
Heldagrad of Aragon ran a ship
Natalia Mill, a crossdressing knight
Sir Thomas of Woodstock gave women fright
On way to Canterbury, met these folks
Pretty sorry people, their lives are jokes
I am a Catholic, I spread God’s peace
These savage people, they all act like beasts
I worship God and will not let Him down
When God sees these people, you know he frowns
Heldagrad of Aragon fought in war
Many of God’s people, their lives he tore
He fought in that war of one hundred years
So many deaths, so many unjust tears
He was a captain, he sailed in a ship
Coming to Canterbury-no hard trip
He was so angry, he needs to be bright
His language is course, he must make it right
He goes with his women one at a time
I want to correct him, but it’s a crime
Nathaniel Mill became a black knight
But if others knew, there would be a sight
Nathaniel’s really Natalia
Nothing like cross-dressing nostalgia
She has a daughter and takes care of mom
She needs a knight’s pay. Is that really wrong?
Church every Sunday, thinks she’s the best
You need to be humble just like the rest
Too competitive, you should not outdo
Too bad everyone’s better than you
Sir Thomas of Woodstock I cannot stand
To get to the crown-seventh in command
Lord High Constable of this great country
He is the commander of the army
A judge in court but does not go to church
Before he goes on, the Lord he must search
He rapes more women than I ever thought
Maybe as many as the men he fought
From humble origins he might have come
This guy is reckless and Godless and dumb
My journey was worth it to see the saint
But I met some people that I just hate
An angry captain, a cross-dressing knight
And some Godless rapist that loves to fight
I may promote peace, I know hate is bad
But these worthless people make me so mad
Woman and Men all dressed as the latter
They think all their sin will never matter
Deep down I know that all people mean well
But these people here are going to hell
taytay3773 said...
Taylor Houchens
Canterbury Tales Relative Character Poem
I make music that you have never heard
I go places that you have never seen
I dream things that no one else dares to dream
I believe in things that could get me shot
Great ideas begin with only one thought
I am a dancer on a sunny day
I let my mind carry me far away
I am perceived as slightly off center
My lackadaisical ways put me out
My name is Jane, and I am a dreamer
Promiscuous girl, they already know
I do not have my riches to offer
I never found my own careless father
I do not have belief in any God
If he existed I would have a home
Instead I find solace in many men
Ending in the same place as I began
Often crying and out in the cold air
My life is not much without my despair
All I wanted was somebody who cares
I am Rebecca, the lonely minstrel
I live a desolate fake existence
I am a woman trapped in a mans world
I am bitter to the depths of my core
My sister left behind a baby girl
She is my own and I gave her a home
It may be the only love I will know
I confess my sins every Sunday morn
Maybe that is why in life I am torn
And why I compete with everyone else
I am a black knight, known as Nathaniel
I am a crucial but disgusting man
I am the drunkest doctor in the land
I have three kiddies who were not much planned
Forty two years has not aged me one bit
I often pass gas and many times spit
I have not much faith in the church at all
Spiritual men do nothing but fall
I help my patients lush their way to health
Not many object as their stomachs swell
Sir Stench of Dung Heap, the noted doctor
My mother died when I was a child
My father gave up and I became wild
A nomadic girl later on I was
The sad sheep were all I could relate to
I was a lot like them or so I thought
Others saw me as a psychotic case
That was most people’s most popular phrase
My five brothers and sisters are deranged
Even though most of them I helped to raise
I am a lone shepherd, Katherine Gabes
February 28, 2008 8:07 AM
On to Canterbury We Wenda
by Blake Dennard
We were on our way to Canterbury
Everyone was glad it was not dreary
No one in our group had met each other
This made the trip iffy but no bother
Don’t pack many clothes because we’re walking
But no one heard because they were talking
Before we left we chose to eat away
Then we thought it was time to start the day
We’d have no horse, just our feet
So it’d wise to take water not meat
Alyce
Alyce is quite poor, but thinks she’s the best
Alyce even likes to get with the rest
Music was something that she knew about
She also liked to dance without a doubt
If there was rum around, she wasn’t dumb
Alyce would always find how to get some
She enjoys being as free as a bird
But only when she can find the heard
Halfway through the trip she asked where we were
We stopped and then began to stare at her
David
Racing down a hill he heard the great news
Exstatic he went and prayed in the pews
Already he had three strong, strapping boys
All the girls tried to get them to be toys
David had come on the trip from England
He was determined to work with his hand
But he couldn’t get away from racing
He just really enjoys that kind of thing
He thinks his family is what’s important
The best addition was his new infant
Margret
Margret likes to be extremely Godly
And she likes to be really heavenly
Anything outdoors she will always do
As long as she does not receive the flu
Margret is hoping for a new career
Even though all she likes to drink is beer
So she thinks she might work at a nice pub
But she says it would be fun at a club
Because she is only nineteen years old
The only thing she could do is clean mold
Canterbury is where we ended up
But we did not have water in our cup
Coming from various places was fun
And I was glad all we had was the sun
Clothes ended up not being any an issue
We all just smelt a little like shu shu
When we arrived we wanted to eat away
So we got some food but then had to pay
The walking made our feet a tad tired
So we decided we had retired
Amanda,
Your poem is written very well.
I like the way that you make it seem more like a story then a poem.
Taylor,
I like the way you address each character individually and go into great detail sbout each one.
Wes,
The way you wrote your poem as if it had been written during the midevil time period helps set the mood of your poem.
Wes,
I really like your word usage when describing Sir Stench of Dung Heap, Matt McCays character. You did really well on keeping your rhyme scheme.
LOVES!!!
to myself,
my rhyme scheme completely sucks and i havent corrected it yet but i had to go ahead and put it on here. sorry!
Taylor Houchens is taytay3773 duh. thats me!
Amanda,
you should spell worship worshop in the second sentence first stanza. Ha Ha Ha. Just kidding. You went completely in the guidlines of the assignment. Good job!
Taylor Houchens
On a journey to find the gold hidden
By the family ancient and forbidden.
Their name is Ianuzzie and they stashed
their gold in Venesuzi. I have been mashed
In with a group of selfish, loathsome, prigs.
They come from afar wanting zilch but gigs,
Personal stars, and the treasure for starts.
They have many a carts, charts, parts, and tarts,
None of which is shared with the poor in marts.
They eat like pigs and have horrible farts.
I am a minstrel, my name is William
I have a wife at home but no children.
I live in Nottingham, and play guitar
In all of the local taverns and bars.
I Gather information to black mail you
Rich, to help the poor survive through and through.
I own a house a lute a flute a harp
And my guitar. I eat well fish like carp,
And vegetables well grown from my garden.
I will never have to be pardoned.
I am not corrupt, I do not take bribes.
I go to church every Sunday to feel vibes.
From the preacher to the people of England
I am good and do not live in wrong land.
Francis Drake is a real “good” man who lives
With kin in Stone Gate and never forgives.
He is rich in material goods very
Earthy and merry living in his large airy
Mansion on the south cost of Italy.
He eats the best food and is not itty bitty
He serves only himself and wants to be richer
He lives in bars and gets carried pitchers.
He seems a good man till you find his bull
He is large and round as a mead barrel full.
Paul Passonionne another trav’ler
Walking along he is a treasurer.
He is not the purest soul on this trip.
Passonionne is not only his chip,
It is also his name. Sleeping around
and passion are his games. He always abounds
In gold and gems stolen from his lords grounds.
He wears a cloak of purest white a clowns
Face his horrible mace. A catholic
Devout and a raging alcoholic.
Charms and blessings cover his place a kings
Ransom he paid for his grace in a ring
With blessing from a priest. He is a beast.
This is my tale the trip to Venesuzi
To find the gold left by Ianuzzie.
So who do you help a giver of gold,
Or a prig who wants nothing but to ahold
Only more gold. The choice is up to you
So please don’t be witless, help the poor, blue,
True man who is trying to help you too.
Because I will share the found gold with you
I need your help the more the better, to
Few and the gold will never be found, so
Ignore the others, they will keep the stow.
They call me Alyce, from the village way
I am a minstrel, my harp I do play
Wine intoxicates me day and night
Men are my weakness, so lovely and bright
I am the most charming maiden by far
Traveling this road by light of a star
To Canterbury I am going now
With companions strange as it is allowed
Most go for faith, travel, or their leisure
All of whom make me quite displeasured
I find myself surrounded by these fools
Critical I am of their holy ruse
They think themselves so highly besought
But I see through such idiotic thought
I work every day to see little wealth
Food is a hard fight, so I turn to stealth
They have whatever they so desire
All by greed they have their things acquired
While I seek truth and beauty in this life
They have only their pain, fury, and strife
There goes with us a doctor by his trade
With a good family of three he’s made
A ridiculous bugger with no sense
Medical school has made him no less dense
He has been three times before it he passed
Now in practice for fifteen years this last
Riding in a stupid boat every day
He gives less care to patients in his way
On a vacation, with our group he goes
Maybe he’ll die in some violent throes
A black knight comes from the rear this long hour
His name is Nethaniel, with a face so sour
Though I think there is more than meets the eye
He looks like a lady and I know why
What a cocky fellow he or she is
Loves the contests for entertainment give
He is a snobbish, self- righteous liar
Says he goes for pilgrimage in this mire
I think it is just a matter of time
Before he is exposed of his ill crime
Last but not least there is my favorite
One who is the king of all hypocrites
The prime minister, at head of our line
What a dirty, slimy rotten old swine
He takes his women for his property
Brutal and cruel in his blunt mockery
Drunk in wine and foul in his throaty voice
He thinks all “ethical”, the king’s best choice
The most repulsive companion by far
I hope he suffocates in a bath of tar
Now you can see on this clear stuffy night
My journey is an ugly, awful sight
I hope this road soon comes to a swift end
Or I may find myself gone ‘round the bend
While my horse keeps moving so slowly on
Maybe I can sleep a bit before dawn
Unless the carousing continues, then
I’ll be up, lost in roaring noise again
I hope there is a good man for me there
To cleanse the dirt from this my whole affair
amanda bailey, I like your rhyming overall, it was just off in a few places...you have good descriptions of the characters as well.
amanda v
On to Fairer Lands
By: Melissa Warren
From lands far away in Monte Carlo,
I come to here with a horse that I borrow.
From Cartier family, the royal courts,
The Youngest of five, a spoiled one of sorts.
Highly educated at Fontainbleau
Some say I am spoiled and snooty too.
Attending University in France,
Intellect of politics, art of dance.
My one true desire is to play harp,
All the tools in the shed, I am not sharp.
Old Francis Drake, merry man of Stonegate.
But as for Protestants, he’s filled with hate. Perfect family, the pets, the job,
With his long ponytail, somewhat a slob.
Very religious a devout Catholic,
Carrying his Bible, his faith idyllic.
He seems far too kind, and almost unreal.
Carries himself with such passion and zeal.
He seems to dislike me, thinks me a snoot.
As far as I care, I don’t give a hoot.
Giovanni so proud, head in the cloud,
With so much power and his voice so loud.
Travels the world, nobility I heard,
Making all crowds hang on his every word.
Fluent in many languages he speak,
It is his for his soul he comes to seek.
With all of his power he does no harm
Instead cheers everyone with his good charm.
Perhaps he will find what he’s searching for,
Then his purpose complete in this great lore.
As for Lord Constable, so much to say,
He lives a wealthy power to this day.
A chivalrous man with crossbow and sword.
He greets every lady with such kind word.
Strong and flattering, desired by all.
A fashionable man never to fall.
So unmerciful, impulsive and strong,
So one dare not mess with him for too long.
A great chief judge of the chivalry court,
Loves music and wine and parties of sort.
We finish our journey and tell our tale,
So glad to venture here along this trail.
Just singing and playing with every step,
Enjoying my time like I did at Prep.
One searches for answers, another soul.
As for what I search, my story untold.
Ready to start on my journey back home,
Wanting to begin a journey to Rome.
I now know that people are not as they seem.
In every person a struggle unseen.
wes,
yours is awesome. good job.
rebecca hope
amanda vickous,
yours is pretty awesome too. you really have a gift when it come to writing.
rebecca hope
To Canterbury
Introduction
The saga takes place on a summers end,
Departing at noon, our journey begin.
A harlot, a knight, and priest all present,
To Canterbury to return with present.
They were all famous, in some unique way,
Some more moral, others a disarray.
The cluster were a spectacle to see,
They were all more than ecstatic to flee.
The journey leaves as they begin their fun,
Look, the harlot, she’s already begun.
The Harlot
The woman sat in her white petite lace,
Staring at the men in the market place.
She was renowned for her so-called …style,
The men did not love her for …smile.
She loved teasing men and making them smirk,
With these men, it would definitely work.
When one walked up to her and said “Good Day!”
She turned to face him and said “Eww, no way!”
So you see she was not a pretty face,
Actually she was quite a disgrace.
The Knight
Now the knight spent most his days on a horse,
And he made sure he had his sword, of course.
At night he took girls dancing with ladies,
Then go home without his wife, Mercedes.
This knight was the same as the ones you know,
He wanted to kill someone, just for show.
A man asked him one day what he lived for,
He thought, “I’m not sure” and thought nothing more.
His friends thought he would not ever succeed,
He is one of a quickly dying breed.
The Priest
A holy man and a servant of God,
The Bible was his rule, his staff, his rod.
He preached Catholicism at the Church,
Back home, where he resided, in Pike Burch.
He was ten times more moral than the rest,
He absolutely tried his very best.
With all the immoral actions around,
All he could do was pray, knelt at the ground.
He taught the group on the eleventh day,
He could not help but feel full of dismay.
The Conclusion
Now heading back home, the end almost hear,
Look in the distance, Canterbury is near.
The preacher is set, the others are not,
Sadly no morals improved a whole lot.
They will go back to their average lives,
As soon as the lot returns and arrives.
The harlot will remain “doing” her best,
The knight will return back to Fresno, blessed.
The priest will continue preaching and such,
He knew that they did not learn very much.
amanda bailey,
rhyme scheme can use some work in first stanza, and there are some minor typos but overall a very good poem.
Mr. Wesley Brooks,
good poem, but some of the lines are awkward and run into each other. great vocabulary though.
rebecca,
very good poem, it flows very nice. but in the second stanza the third and fourth lines sound a little awkward. the rhyme sheme is very good thoughout the poem.
As We Journey On
By: Torrie Smith
Many a blissful travel I have flown
To many a far land, yet near to home
Of the borderland shire I am borne
And for which my soul does not sorely yorne
As I thereto carry with a lieght tune
Magical tales best told under the moon
Few baubles, brightly colored, gaily clad
As I make my travels with lesser cads
Of whose bitter morals are questionable
And whose judgements, I am quite capable
A young knight, foremost, noble in fable
His manners are wanton at the table
Discoverers, valiant at land and sea
A prime minister, beleaguered yet free
Many kinsmen, all of whom I despise
All oft to Canterbury, wherein lies
The blessed martyr of goode Sir Thomas
Acknowledgement would be a false promise
Of the maiden you now harken to hear
Truths that I speake of such men in yon ear
The knight, now a lord, though not nearly olde
I considered first, for he was quite bolde
As well as rather odd, being borne far
From noble birth, he was not up to par
For the noble code of chivalry past
Braggart in his position, his tales fast
In the coming, of people much forlorn
His pilgrimage, I fear, I did not learn
Nay, dear traveler, please show him your charm
The noblewomen, he does keep from harm
The first of the discoverers found life
On the dark waters of Poseidon's wife
He willingly plundered from persons free
He is greatly sought for, for a fee,
Revels in finery on this journey
After speaking of his hate for tourneys
Yet on the battlefield, he cannot lose
Fighting like a demon, he cannot chose
For his father's goodly soul, he forgoes
To Canterbury, as I have told ago
The second of the discoverers found
That wisdom, age, and sin could not abound
In the same house, as his time drew nearer
He realized his goal had become clearer
A disciple of Aristotle gone,
Yet an honest bred man, who heard my song
Of his travels, he spoke of the seasons
And bade me quick to keep his reason
The pilgrimage to save his mortal soul
To Becket's tomb he goes, knowing the toll
The prime minister, a nobly bred man
Enjoyed his position as a man can
Fine things he craved, based on his position
Many laws were of his composition
His distinguishable feature, his face
Ruddy acrosst his head, he liked to pace
He frequents courts more than minstels involved
With him, many a problem is resolved
I highly doubt his claim of a false con
A disease of the loins drives him on
Many of my kinsmen you will soon find
Minstrels all, and with the same goal in mind
To immortalize their own pride and fame
By the telling of the martyr's kind name
Now, dear friend, there is no need for alarm
You will find none of us mean you any harm
In fact, slack your thirst with much ale and cheer
With one of the many eager mouths here
Ease the night with a tart of blueberry
Whilst I continue to Canterbury
(I'm aware of the extra lines here and there, but it is because the space is too small. They form ten lines on paper.)
Wes,
I really like the style you used.
The language creates a vivid image and the poem flows off the tongue easily. Very nice!
A Trip for the Ages
By: Kurt Leedy
Having sailed across many a sea,
I have encountered many a sad plea
Of which had caused my crew much a struggle
Too many times we have had to smuggle
I have survived these times to live once more
To do anything else would be a bore
During these adventures I met three men
I judge them now, because they are not my kin
They bring shame to themselves being alive
So I become irate watching them thrive
A man of England has a sad life
He has many kids and an ugly wife
This man of religion and peace seems meek
Cares only for his family; not the weak
A man such as this is bogged in regret
I have no cure for this deviant yet
He lives a dream where he “can not” be hurt
Knowing reality rips through his shirt
He prolongs his life as if it were myth
His wretched title is Sir William Smith
The second man, I met through my travel
He let “it” hang he let “it” unravel
He a handsome mad had all the women
One came sour much like a lemon
He layed her to bed and much to his fright
He woke with an illness to my delight
He got his upens for what he had done
Lying and cheating I bet that was fun
Now he will suffer untimely regret
That title of his was Passionnete
An orphan from England was loved by none
This boy felt important though he was shun
He a Sheppard, a job fit for peasants
He had no money, he gave no presents
The orphan Sheppard had no will to live
He felt sad for his life, he would not give
No words of kindness toward any kid
Thought of himself, but he would not be hid
He was completely oblivious to all
David was his name, headed toward a fall
This trip toward Canterbury was tough
Adventuring with these fiends made it rough
I listened to them speak, although they reek
Reek of tremendous lies, sounds, and critique
I went for my father who died in war
Although they knew this, they pressed it for more
This built a sense of distain between us
They kept ignoring me, I did not fuss
The journey was over before I knew
Thanked god for that, I could start over anew
This is the edited version.
My (Not) Lovely Journey to Canterbury
Amanda Vickous (aka) Alyce
They call me Alyce, from the village way
I am a minstrel, my harp I do play.
Wine intoxicates me day and night
Men are my weakness, so lovely and bright.
I am the most charming maiden by far,
Traveling this road by light of a star.
To Canterbury I am going now,
With companions strange as the world allows.
Most go for faith, travel, or their leisure
All of whom leave me with much displeasure.
I find myself surrounded by these fools
Critical I am of their “holy” tools.
They think themselves so highly besought,
But I see through such idiotic thought.
I work every day to see little wealth
Food is a hard fight, so I turn to stealth.
They have whatever they so desire
All by greed their thing they do acquire
While I seek truth and beauty in this life,
They have only their pain, fury, and strife.
There goes with us a doctor by his trade
With a good family of three he’s made.
A ridiculous bugger with no sense
Medical school has made him no less dense.
He has been three times before it he passed,
Now in practice for fifteen years this last.
Riding in a stupid boat every day,
He gives less care to patients in his way!
On a vacation, with our group he goes
Maybe he’ll die in some violent throes.
A black knight comes up front this long hour
His name is Nethaniel, with skin so sour.
Though I think there is more than meets the eye;
He looks like a lady and I know why.
Such a cocky fellow is she or he
Loves the contests like honey for a bee.
He is a snobbish, self-righteous liar
A pilgrimage? It can’t even make fire!
I think it is just a matter of time,
Before he is exposed of his ill crime.
Last but not least there is my “favorite”,
One who is the king of each hypocrite.
The prime minister, at head of our line
What a dirty, slimy, rotten, old swine!
He takes his women for his property
Brutal and cruel in his blunt mockery.
So drunk in his wine and foul in his voice
He thinks all “ethical”, the king’s best choice.
The most repulsive companion by far,
I hope he suffocates in a bath of tar.
Now you can see on this clear stuffy night,
My journey is an ugly, awful sight!
I hope this road soon comes to a swift end,
Or I may find myself gone ‘round the bend.
While my horse keeps moving so slowly on,
Maybe I can sleep a bit before dawn.
Unless the carousing continues, then
I’ll be up, lost in roaring noise again.
I hope there is a good man for me there
To cleanse the dirt from this my whole affair!
Amanda Vickous is a beast in the writing game, sweet poem
Kurt leedy
wes, I think I already posted this but it's not showing up. your poem was good, it flowed very well and you kept up the rhyme scheme. very good.
amanda v.
lol wes u r so modest in ur poem, but as usual it was great
Kurt Leedy
bob, i like the heavy sarcasm in your poem, also they rhyme scheme was very well kept up. It sort of has a nice beat to it, maybe you could make it a song! lol
amanda v.
chad, ur poem is pretty good, but the a lot of the rhyme was forced
Kurt Leedy
oops I accidentaly forgot to check and put a break between two stanzas on the edit, sorry if that makes it hard to read.
Amanda B. in the first paragraph, you need to retype the "unreal seems ro real". And in the second paragraph you need to re-arrange the 26 year old Catholic.
Amanda V,
Your poem is entrancing! Rhymes cause the poem to flow easily and helped develop your character to the audience. Very good job!
A Tale of Passonné
I was traveling down the road, I roam
Heading to Canterbury from my home
My home is Wiltshire where my hearth and girl
Where I am advisor to the Earl
My faith is my pillar and it is quite large
But at my hearth I am always in charge
The lies, they fall from my passionate lips
Especially for those with large round hips
My perceptions maybe a bit askewed
Or the other travelers need review
He swore to be the greatest of them all
He looked Scandinavian and quite tall
One fine sir was especially dashing
And had many a coin for the flashing.
He was a great chancellor of the king
with passions for many pretty young things
He went to war to settle many a great score
But when he came back he just wanted more
He carried a long sword, tall and mighty
But with love always seemed a bit flighty
A boorish traveler then joined with us
He was an explorer that smelled of muss
Born on the sea he had an air of salt
He was quite blunt and always finding fault
His short temper was always on fire
But to try and fight him would be dire
He lives without lies, only honesty
Sometimes though his life seems very nasty
He was a fine fellow, quite upstanding
His standards for life were too demanding
The third one I met, a minstrel she was
Her hair long and flowing like downy fuzz
Her music had consumed her very life
But for this she lacked any known strife
She was a passionate muse very fair
But I will never forget that long hair
Her other occupation: shoe making
Left her with no money for the taking
She was poor but she still was to travel
Allowing her splendid tales unravel
This was the motley crew I traveled with
Now all I will need is a very great smith
Some of them were happy without a care
While others had worries they could not share
They were without a fear of pestilence
And some were lacking homely residence
A very merry trip we are to have
Especially with the start we will have
So I bid you a very fair adieu
For I have to find a bed and ensue
Surroundings
Katherine Gaves
My life has seemed to have been a short one,
But to me it seems it is close to done.
My mother passed away when I was small,
But my sister and I always stood tall.
And my father was a hard working man,
We usually ate out of a can.
So we all six willingly did our chores,
And were told to be careful on the floors.
We always listened to what we were told,
And didn't complain about the gross mold.
I looked left at a woman of her own,
Pink, orange and yellow jewels all were sewn.
Into her dress of flowing cloth and string,
She seemed to want all eyes, such as a king.
And she carried a long wood box with strings,
And it made a noise when it bumped into things.
She talked about sleeping out in the cold,
But it puzzled me that she was not old.
Sleeping outside without a home to claim,
Is not a very decent claim to fame.
And to my right was a man in metal,
But he smelt of soap and a rose petal.
And when he spoke he seemed to be straining,
It was not his voice he was portraying.
He told me his name was Nat-Nathaniel,
I just stared at him, as he scratched his heel.
And when he coughed, it was very alto,
He talked as if we were all very low.
I’m not sure what he was trying to play,
But he was a woman, as long as day.
The woman in front of me looked tired,
Compared to the others who seemed wired.
And she smelt of a strong, passionate smoke,
Her eyes were dark pink, as if they were poked.
Her skin is not smooth, but had a rough look,
Like an old, wore out cover of a book.
And every animal that would pass by,
She would stare at it, turn her head, and sigh.
She was a very unique character,
It seems to me she has freedom hunger.
As I think about myself and my past,
I know why people look at me and laugh.
Because they do not know my life story,
If I told them it would be too boring.
But everyone that looks at you thinks that,
They’ll know who you are, a minute flat.
You just see the surface and nothing else,
You could have been the one drilled with three nails.
So next time you look at someone around,
Know that they may or may not be home bound.
To Canterbury They Went
Loretta Isaacs, yes that is my name.
I am born into a family of fame.
Child of the Prince of the city of gold,
Everyone says that I am very bold.
I was educated in Salerno
And now am a doctor in Morocco.
I am married to the Prince of Lipscomb.
And thus, we have a daughter and a son.
Very closely knit, is my family,
McDaniel, being our very own hamley.
The Craftsman
A craftsman of wood and wagons with speed,
Mr. Carnegie is married, indeed.
Living in his hometown and in a shack,
He wears old, tattered clothing on his back.
Has a low level of education,
He has three children of his relation.
With a family, he is still a loner,
A Catholic member, and a store owner.
A short, funny man who is so cocky,
Women love him because he is stocky.
The Bishop
A rich man who loves to wear lavish clothes,
His spare time he enjoys acting in shows.
Friendly man who came from England alone,
John William had parties that were well known.
Too good for lower class people he seemed,
Low level of education, he beamed,
Inspired by his dreams and fantasies,
He never gave any apologies.
A fat man with glasses and dark grey hair,
He never had an illegal affair.
The Black Knight
A young woman who was full of herself,
Enjoyed sports and had trophies on the shelf.
She uses the I.D. of her brother.
She tends to her one niece as a mother.
She travels to find religious guidance,
With these people who formed an alliance.
She is only friends with the highest rank.
Self righteously, she helped to rob a bank.
She drinks regularly and becomes drunk,
Often passing out on the bottom bunk.
With all their bags packed and ready to go,
They ate breakfast and then the host said, “So.
Let us be on our way through the journey,
Five of us will head off in a hurry.”
Only to return home one week later,
To reunite with our friends and traders.
We will be welcomed home with open arms,
Only to get back to work on the farms.
We thank our host for our wonderful trip,
We all pitched in and gave him a great tip!
To Canterbury They Went
Loretta Isaacs, yes that is my name.
I am born into a family of fame.
Child of the Prince of the city of gold,
Everyone says that I am very bold.
I was educated in Salerno
And now am a doctor in Morocco.
I am married to the Prince of Lipscomb.
And thus, we have a daughter and a son.
Very closely knit, is my family,
McDaniel, being our very own hamley.
The Craftsman
A craftsman of wood and wagons with speed,
Mr. Carnegie is married, indeed.
Living in his hometown and in a shack,
He wears old, tattered clothing on his back.
Has a low level of education,
He has three children of his relation.
With a family, he is still a loner,
A Catholic member, and a store owner.
A short, funny man who is so cocky,
Women love him because he is stocky.
The Bishop
A rich man who loves to wear lavish clothes,
His spare time he enjoys acting in shows.
Friendly man who came from England alone,
John William had parties that were well known.
Too good for lower class people he seemed,
Low level of education, he beamed,
Inspired by his dreams and fantasies,
He never gave any apologies.
A fat man with glasses and dark grey hair,
He never had an illegal affair.
The Black Knight
A young woman who was full of herself,
Enjoyed sports and had trophies on the shelf.
She uses the I.D. of her brother.
She tends to her one niece as a mother.
She travels to find religious guidance,
With these people who formed an alliance.
She is only friends with the highest rank.
Self righteously, she helped to rob a bank.
She drinks regularly and becomes drunk,
Often passing out on the bottom bunk.
With all their bags packed and ready to go,
They ate breakfast and then the host said, “So.
Let us be on our way through the journey,
Five of us will head off in a hurry.”
Only to return home one week later,
To reunite with our friends and traders.
We will be welcomed home with open arms,
Only to get back to work on the farms.
We thank our host for our wonderful trip,
We all pitched in and gave him a great tip!
Amanda--
Very good poem.... tells a story!!
On the fifth line from the bottom... u misspelled showed!!! just a minor correction!
Wes--
Your poem is written inn the medieval language which is really cool!!! the words really swt the mood for the trip through the poem!!
Chad 99--
It's a good poem... watch some of your ryhming... some of them are a little awkward!!! good job!!!
As of 10:15pm on 03-05-08, I am missing poems from: Jessica, Natalie, Hannah, Matt Mc, Tony, Lauren, Jonathan, and Shannon.
Those people need to respond to each other's poems, NOT to those that have posted above this message in the Blog.
Those who have already posted above this message and still need to respond to 3 other people's poems, do so with the poems submitted above this message.
You are doing a great job! I like seeing the consructive criticism!!!
Happy Blogging! Ms. Bailey
To Canterbury I Go
Jessica Chapman
I live in a land far from Canterbury,
In Stonegate, Italy is where I married.
Builder they call me for I built the church,
Their house, their barns, and also their porch.
Religion is apart of my family,
Catholic they call us were almighty.
I’m a wealthy person from my building,
But I’m not greedy, I’m accepting.
I’m on a voyage to Canterbury,
To find my treasure, which is Rose Mary.
On the journey there was a minstrel,
He had nothing but a bad apparel.
He had brown ugly shoes with dirt on them,
He also had a shirt with a coral gem.
He would ride on his horse with a guitar,
His playing was so utterly bizarre.
He is a very mysterious guy,
For all he does is look at other guys.
He is a fine prevaricator too,
Because apparently his shoes are new.
There was also another minstrel,
She was nothing but drunken mongrel.
She slept around several times before that,
With all the men that would get near that.
She had messy bundled up hair that smelt stale.
She was even slower than small snail.
But she sure did think she was something too,
All she wore was something from Peru.
It was very flashy in all purple,
But all of her cloths smelt like bake apples.
The last minstrel was the prettiest one,
Her hair brown, was long and had it all done.
She looked highly educated to be here,
But something tells me she looks austere.
She has an instrument that is a harp,
She plays the strings with every tune so sharp.
She wears very highly expensive cloths,
She has a white long gown from neck to toe.
And she also wears flowers on her head,
That she made by hand with needle and thread.
My way to Canterbury was all fun,
I just wanted to shoot them with a gun.
The annoying instrument playing fools,
To the whore minstrel to use guys as tools.
I think I might have developed a hate,
For those people, I think I lost my fate.
When I finally arrived at the place
I walked over to a beautiful face.
Rose Mary who is not one I married,
For I can say I have done my duty.
Melissa,
I love your poem, it has a great way of showing who the characters are. love it!
Rebecca,
I love your poem, it has great rhyming. your poem flows really good. Great Job!
Laura,
I like how you point out your characters before you start to describe them.
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