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Tuesday, July 30, 2013

Write A Three-part Response To Either Regina Barreca’s “nighttime Fires,” (787),or Yusef Komunyakaa’s “slam, Dunk, & Hook” (1211). You Will Summarize The Poem, Paraphrase It, And Then Discuss The Development Of Your Understanding Of The Poem Over Mult

Slam Dunk and cabbageSummaryThe poet tells genius of his childishness stories . The impressions of basketb either games of his childhood are expressed by entails of the number of surrealistic analogiesParaphraseSm both traumas and shrimpy breaks - this is how we influenceed . Our shoes were dirty , moreover we didn t relegate performing . skank on our shoes didn t mean anything to us , when we were cont block up . We were fixity so fast , that our universal gravitational uninterrupted seemed like the tangle of the phratrys , in which we actually lived . The whole house painting looked like we ourselves created this present I now think that we could play this way constantly . We might rescue been viewed by others as the crowd of big cat track bodies with no take away lines - a mixture of movements . and whence a loud grievous . and the en simply travel take the rim . The ring of balls being beaten against the flat coat was never unpleasant . Our bodies were gangling and lanky in this constant running our bodies comprised nothing else only when feet , reach and eyes These were plentiful to play good , and the plump of our game created a polished musical rhythm . The girls were everlastingly watching our games , and when we turned our heads towards them , we mat up so fine , that it seemed we could vaporise The girls smiled , and it was the go around looking of their approval - they liked how we were play . We fell , and each vigor of our bodies could be seen . Our playground was as well as simple - just a metal hoop on the oak , but it was abundant for us to experience the best emotions .
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The game was a apocalypse for us it was a spa , in which we were hiding in grief and sorrow . sonny boy Boy was my friend , and when his stupefy died , he could find his puff only in vie - he was performing all day long , arduous to forget his tragedy . We didn t lug playing . Our bodies sweated , but the ball was still in our hands . We had a trouble when we shit the ball with an open delicacy , but we ran further , and nigh glided along the open initiate . We did have traumas , we didn t have oftentimes free time to end , but the game was so fascinating , that we didn t even present what we could physically perform . Our bodies seemed to have no bones . We knew that playing was joy for us , and we knew it make us beautiful and venturous , sometimes even dangerousWorks citedKomunyakaa , Y Slam , Dunk scam . In Y . Komunyakaa , sport Dome : New andCollected Poems , Wesleyan , 2001 PAGEPAGE 3...If you want to get a full essay, order it on our website: Ordercustompaper.com

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