Since no one is posting on Gaboury's class blog anymore, I don't think anyone has read this. It's just something I wrote about Evie Sweet's clay gargoyle in one of the display cases. I liked writing it, but I don't know if it's any good. A comment or two might be encouraging.
Gargoyles
In winter when the snowflakes whip through the bitingly cold air, the gargoyles remain where they are. The flakes descend from the skies where their souls continue to live and settle on the spines as a chilly blanket (exhales of fog seep from their lungs). The stone wings are sharp to the touch with cold.
In spring the bitterness ebbs away, leaving a progressively crumbling foundation underneath the uneasy statues (eyes flicker downwards). A warmth spreads over them in new sun. The pleasant rains wash away memories of the desolate winter.
In summer the waves of heat roll into the stone, causing endless wistfulness as their shapes warp ever so slightly (mouths turn down with a sigh). The birds land on the upturned faces, chirping cheerfully at the abundance of life in the whispering trees below.
In fall when air pushes leaves into the sky, the gargoyles sense the sweetness of autumn on the wind's breath. A briskness settles over the humid air, resigning itself to the months ahead. The trees grow barren and the birds go to foreign lands (hearts throb with loneliness and dread). No warmth emanates from the pedestals on which they are resting.
In spring the bitterness ebbs away, leaving a progressively crumbling foundation underneath the uneasy statues (eyes flicker downwards). A warmth spreads over them in new sun. The pleasant rains wash away memories of the desolate winter.
In summer the waves of heat roll into the stone, causing endless wistfulness as their shapes warp ever so slightly (mouths turn down with a sigh). The birds land on the upturned faces, chirping cheerfully at the abundance of life in the whispering trees below.
In fall when air pushes leaves into the sky, the gargoyles sense the sweetness of autumn on the wind's breath. A briskness settles over the humid air, resigning itself to the months ahead. The trees grow barren and the birds go to foreign lands (hearts throb with loneliness and dread). No warmth emanates from the pedestals on which they are resting.
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3 comments:
I'm not entirely sure who you are, but I were I to fathom a guess I would say you were one of Mrs. Gaboury's current students.
In any case, I liked it. It provided effective and oddly nostalgic imagery with a vantage point (the gargoyle) from which to take it all in. I especially liked the summer bit, but I'm probably biased at this time of year =D.
I'm Tyler, by the way, nice to meet (e-meet?) you. Or have we already met? I'm ashamed to say I can't remember the names of all of the ninth graders that were in undefined.
Regardless, nice piece!
~Tyler
i thought it was a good piece of description, the only comment i have is the formating of it. when you put the actions of the gargoyles in perenthesis you make it appear as if it is an after thought as a pose to an addition. all you really need is the italics to give it the effect you need. good job on doing something (-:>
Thanks guys
;]
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