Modern-Day Rewrite of James Joyce - Claire Dennis

"WE HEAR A TEACHER" by Claire Dennis

We hear a teacher walking down the hall,
Her thunderous steps echo across the floor.
Out of our desks we might fall,
as she approches nearer.

She brings with her a great, tall tower,
a tower of papers and plans.
Each of us fears her fearful power,
as she begins to pass them out.

The endless pages unfold,
and our wide eyes grow even wider.
“Attention, attention,” she scolds.
Why, oh why, must we take this exam?

In red is my use of end rhyme, which I used in the same structure of James Joyce's "I Hear an Army".
In green is my use of the sense of sound, which Joyce emphasizes greatly in "I Hear an Army".

Compared to...

"I HEAR AN ARMY" by James Joyce

I hear an army charging upon the land,
And the thunder of horses plunging, foam about their knees:
Arrogant, in black armor, behind them stand,
Disdaining the reins, with fluttering whips, the charioteers.

They cry unto the night their battle-name:
I moan in sleep when I hear afar their whirling laughter.
They cleave the gloom of dreams, a blinding flame.
Clanging, clanging upon the heart as upon an anvil.

They come shaking in triumph their long, green hair:
They come out of the sea and run shouting by the shore.
My heart, have you no wisdom thus to despair?
My love, my love, my love, why have you left me alone?

As I Walked Out One Evening Response

I walked out one night
Strolling down Baxter Street
The people on the sidewalk
Looked like clumps of meat

And outside of the IHOP
I heard a hooker shout
Sitting in the parking lot
My love has no doubt

I’ll love you, pimp, I’ll love you
Til weed doesn’t get me high
And your drugs won’t make me crazy
And your punches don’t make me cry

I’ll love you til the Chick fil a
Is open seven days a week
And the seven old cars I have
Won’t continue to leak

The years will pass like quarterbacks
For in my purse I carry
All of your money and drugs
In hope that we will marry

But then the cops in the city
Pull up with their sirens a blow
There is no love here
You are just a ho

From the darkness of the alley
Where our surveillance team stood
They watched you do your business
With people from the hood

Willfully or forcefully
We will have our way
We will finally arrest you
Tomorrow or today

Into many cars we have seen
Women enter with dirty men
But the police shut them down
And we throw them in the den

So cry into your hands
Cry til you can’t see
And think about what you’ve done
And how many men you’ve pleased

The shotgun bangs in the kitchen
The pot screams on the stove
And the duck in the bathtub
Sails to a secret cove

Where the mom’s raffle coupons
And the Bloods are friends with Crips
And every student graduates
And the fat kids can do flips

Take a look in the mirror
Just take a look at what you are
Life can still take you places
Although you can’t go far

Stand by the window
As you start to cry
You can still love your pimp
Even if it’s a lie

It was late, late that night
The ho and pimp were gone
The police turned off their sirens
The IHOP lights were still on

-BOOMTOWN

Response to Truth

Flee from the press, and dwell in truthfulness, (Assonance)
Let your fortunes suffice, though they be small;
For hoarding breeds hate, and status ambiguousness.
The mob’s filled with envy and blinded by wealth overall.
Desire only things which meet needs most crucial.
Control yourself well, if you’d be others’ gauge;
And the Truth shall you deliver, of that be not afraid.

Haste not to redress all crookedness
Placing trust in her who turns like a ball.
Great good comes from spurning busy-;
Beware then, not to kick against an awl;
Don’t strive like a crock against a wall.
To subdue others' deeds, you must yourself first tame,
And the Truth shall you deliver, of that be not afraid.

That which you’re sent, receive in humbleness;
Wrestling after this World is just begging for a fall.
This is no Home. It’s naught but Wilderness.
Forth, Pilgrim, forth! Forth, beast, out of your stall! (Repetition)
Know your true country! Look up! Thank God for all!
Let your spirit lead, and hold to the High Way,
And the Truth shall you deliver, of that be not afraid.

Essentially what Chaucer is saying in this poem is that if you live life as the universe gives it to you and don’t try and live beyond your means than you will live a good life. It was loved because in this time period people loved poems that had wise meanings or advice. And this one could be no wiser or more advice giving.

Response

It’s easy to dream of a world
A world with no pain
Where everyone can live together
With nothing to lose and everything to gain
It’s easy to dream of everyone
Living as one

It’s easy to dream of a world
Without the hurtful things that make us dream
War, greed, and even religion
Without them, this world would undoubtedly gleam
It’s easy to dream of everyone
Living in peace

It’s easy to dream that this could be a real dream (oxymoron)
I’m sure there are many just alike
If we find a way to all work together
Our world could find the light

It’s easy to dream of a world
Where money isn’t the goal
Heartless fools try to fill their pockets
When they should be trying to fill their souls (synesthesia)
It’s easy to dream of everyone
Living simply to live

It’s easy to dream that this could be a real dream (oxymoron)
I’m sure there are many just alike
If we find a way to all work together
Our world could find the light

Rewrite

Eagerly I walked into
the marsh
In the time of the liliaceace,
Till moistness like in a swedish sauna
Radiated, surpressed me. I was stuck
petrified and disoriented
by charm that is her own leper.

Now I depart the final strait
Shamefully, in a corner, without an ally
As any peering Sioux to Saskastchewan.

Mondern day language of "Moving Back" from Out of Africa (1944)

We headed back one mo’ gain
To the mud and the rain
Where the choppas sound off (oxymoron)
And the rocks bleed out

We are leaving the cold A/C
Once more we are called out
Back to the hood
Its just understood

We headed back one mo’gain
To where our homies got merked
To the rain soaked gutters
We don’t nut up

We creepin quiet: but stare only
(Gut squeezes, a minutes hesitation)
“Who will get got dis time by the boys in blue (metonomy)
And for what crime?”

Poem turned song. "Maxwell's Silver Hammer"

Joan was quizzical, studied metaphysicalScience in the homeLate nights all alone with a test-tubeOhh-oh-oh-oh...Maxwell Edison majoring in medicineCalls her on the phone"Can I take you out to the picturesJoa-oa-oa-oan?"But as she's getting ready to goA knock comes on the door...Bang, bang, Maxwell's silver hammerCame down upon her headBang, bang, Maxwell's silver hammerMade sure that she was deadBack in school again Maxwell plays the fool againTeacher gets annoyedWishing to avoid an unpleasant sce-e-e-eneShe tells Max to stay when the class has gone awaySo he waits behindWriting 50 times "I must not be so-o-o-oo..."But when she turns her back on the boyHe creeps up from behindBang, bang, Maxwell's silver hammerCame down upon her headBang, bang, Maxwell's silver hammerMade sure that she was deadB.C. Thirty-One said "we caught a dirty one"Maxwell stands alonePainting testimonial pictures ohh-oh-oh-ohRose and Valerie screaming from the gallerySay he must go free (Maxwell must go free)The judge does not agree and he tells them so-o-o-ooBut as the words are leaving his lipsA noise comes from behindBang, bang, Maxwell's silver hammerCame down upon his headBang, Bang, Maxwell's silver hammerMade sure that he was dead

Poetic response: The charge of the light brigade

1.5 miles, 1.5 miles,1.5 miles, keep on truckin,they all rode into Death Valley,"Forward, the Light Brigade!"Aim for the guns!" he said:Into the valley of DeathRode the six hundred soldiers.
"Forward, the Light Brigade!"Was there a man dismayed? the soldier didn’t knowSomeone messed up:There’s no reason to complain,There’s no reason to question,There’s only a reason to die.Into the valley of DeathRode the six hundred soldiers.
Cannons to their right,Cannons to their left,Cannons in front of themThe cannons Volleyed and thundered;The shots and shells stormed,they rode boldly,Into the jaws of Death,Into the mouth of HellRode the six hundred.
They pulled out their gats,They brandished their concealed weapons,They prepared to bust a cap,Charging an army, whileEveryone was confused:They air was filled with smokeRight through the line they broke;Cossack and Russiankilled by another violent crimeWith their heads busted.Then they rode back, but notNot the six hundred.
Cannons to their right,Cannons to their left,Cannons in front of themThe cannons Volleyed and thundered;The shots and shells stormed,All the soldiers died,They that had shot so wellCame through the jaws of DeathBack from the mouth of Hell,All that was left of them,Left of six hundred.
Can they be forgotten? Oh what a stupid thing they diderrbody was confused af.Lets not forget the folk who died, even though they did something stupid, honor the six hundred.

Daneidra's Devine Image

To Mercy, Pity, Peace and Love (alliteration) (repetition)
Everybody pray for their miseries;
Prayer shows the value of joy
Which is return in gratitude.

For Mercy, Pity, Peace and Love (alliteration) (repetition)
God is our father first,
And Mercy, Pity, Peace and Love is man, (alliteration) (repetition)
Who he care for as his child.

Mercy is the human heart, (consonance)
Pity is the human face,
Love makes the human supernatural,
Peace is the human clothing.

Then every man from everywhere,
That prays for his miseries,
Prays to the supernatural human,
Love, Mercy, Pity and Peace. (stanza)

All must love a God,
That are not believers of the Christian God , Turk or Jew;
Where Mercy, Love, and Pity remain
There God will always stay.

Rewrite of “At the Window”

The looming Oak trees pick up the voices of the wind
That caused an uproar of laughs from the weeping willows;
As the sun knew it was time for its shield of light to rescind.

Between the two mountains the graveyard becomes hidden,
By the grey cloak of mist that envelope the tombstones, while
The light of the lampposts ooze out, revealing the forbidden.

The green foliage of the trees chat as they soar past the window pain,
To the eager, heavy eyes (Synesthesia) alert on the face looking from the blackness (Metonomy)
At the mystical scene which from this window will never wane.