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the illusion in our reality
Transcript of the illusion in our reality
She had thought the studio would keep itself;
no dust upon the
furniture of love
Half heresy, to wish the taps less vocal,
the panes relieved of grime. A plate of pears,
a piano with a Persian shawl, a cat
stalking the picturesque amusing mouse
had risen at his urging.
Not that at five each separate
stair would writhe
under the milkman's tramp; that morning light
so coldly would delineate the scraps
of last night's cheese and three
that on the kitchen shelf among the saucers
a pair of beetle-eyes would fix her own---
envoy from some village in the moldings . . .
Meanwhile, he, with a yawn,
sounded a dozen notes upon the keyboard,
declared it out of tune, shrugged at the mirror,
rubbed at his beard, went out for cigarettes;
while she, jeered by the minor demons,
pulled back the sheets and made the bed and found
a towel to dust the table-top,
and let the coffee-pot boil over on the stove.
By evening she was back in love again,
though not so wholly but throughout the night
she woke sometimes to feel the daylight coming
like a relentless milkman up the stairs.
By: francine rizalado
Edwin Arlington Robinson
This girlchild was born as usual
and presented dolls that did pee-pee
and miniature GE stoves and irons
lipsticks the color of cherry candy.
Then in the magic of puberty, a classmate said:
You have a great big nose and fat legs.
She was healthy, tested intelligent,
possessed strong arms and back,
abundant sexual drive and manual dexterity.
She went to and fro apologizing.
Everyone saw a fat nose on thick legs.
She was advised to play coy,
exhorted to come on hearty,
exercise, diet, smile and wheedle.
Her good nature wore out
like a fan belt.
So she cut off her nose and her legs
and offered them up.
casket displayed on satin she lay
with the undertaker's cosmetics painted on,
a turned-up putty nose,
dressed in a
pink and white nightie.
Doesn't she look pretty? everyone said.
Consummation at last.
To every woman a happy ending.
Illusion sends mixed messages in our everyday reality
through people and their everyday lives, relationships, and through media.
went down town,
We people on the pavement looked at him:
He was a gentleman from sole to crown,
Clean favored, and imperially slim.
he was always quietly arrayed,
he was always human when he talked;
But still he fluttered pulses when he said,
'Good-morning,' and he
glittered when he walked.
he was rich - yes,
richer than a king
admirably schooled in every grace:
In fine, we thought that he was everything
To make us wish that we were in his place.
So on we worked, and waited for the light,
And went without the meat, and cursed the bread;
And Richard Cory, one calm summer night,
Went home and put a bullet through his head.
Illusion vs. reality
it was said that his parents wanted a girl but ended up with
a boy. so they decided not to name him until he was six months old
and when they visited a resort vacationers mentioned he should be
named so a man from Massachusetts was selected to draw a name
out of a hat.
His brother owned a big business, unfortunately he suffered
from business failures, became an alcoholic, alienated himself from
his family then died.
His other brother died from a drug overdose
Her love for literature sparked from
her father's library at home.
In 1953 she married Alfred H. Conrad,
a Harvard University economist which she
later on left and he commited suicide.
through out the 1960's she explored themes like racism, women's roles
in society, and the Vietnam War.
Affected by the great depression
She remembers having a happy childhood but in grade
school she almost died from German Measles and caught
rheumatic fever. in time of her sickness she started reading
books and grew her love for cats.
She did not fit any image of what women were supposed to
be like and education in the fifties valued her to be aberrant for
her sexuality and ambitions.
After being left by her first husband she moved to Chicago but
it was the hardest years of her life saying she was poor, and divorced at the age of 23. In 1982 she married a man who had a passion for writing who turned out to be her third husband and became active in a woman's right movement.