Poem 1 editing

The Sun always leaves me,
But unlike you it returns,
Every morning it greets me,
But not so much for you.

The Sun was a cold white,
And now a burning red,
The rays that used to love me,
Now burn me with such hate.

The Sun always leaves me,
But unlike you it returns,
And now I feel the cold,
Never to feel your warmth.

First phase:
There were some words that were not needed.
Some lines did not fit the poem.
There was excess punctuation.
There was some bad word choice (syntax).

The Sun always leaves me,
But unlike you it returns,
Every morning it greets me,
But not so much for you.
 
The Sun was a cold white,
And now a burning red,
The rays that used to love me,
Now burn me with such wrath.
 
The Sun always leaves me,
But unlike you it returns,
And now I feel the cold,
Never to feel the warmth.

Second Phase:
There was not enough imagery.
The poem was not implicit.
Some misused words were present.

The Sun had left me once,
But unlike you it returns,
Every morning it returns to me,
But not the same for you.
 
The Sun was a cold white,
But now a burning red,
The rays that used to love me,
Now burn me with such wrath.
 
The Sun always leaves me,
But unlike you it returns,
And now I feel the cold,
Never to feel the warmth.

Third Phase:
The word "sun" could be replaced with "it".
There was some words that could be replaced.
The rhythm did not work.

It  once had left me for night
Then night had given it back
But now I fear it will never
Return to my begging arms

It once was a pleasant white
Now it's a blistering red
The rays that once had loved me
Burn as they don't hold

The sun left me for night
But night will not give it back
And now I sit in darkness
Forever in the cold

Poem 1

It  once had left me for night
Then night had given it back
But now I fear it will never
Return to my begging arms

It once was a pleasant white
Now it's a blistering red
The rays that once had loved me
Burn as they don't hold

The sun left me for night
But night will not give it back
And now I sit in darkness
Forever in the cold

Synedocede

   Beautiful?  Your rays are so bright, blinding as you.  They are orange, yellow, or white, I cannot tell.  The warmth they give is loving, like mother to her son.  But when with too much your love burns me.  Your love reaches all of Earth. Even lightens the darkest parts of its soul.  Your rays like arms and fingers reach into the darkness of Earths soul. Beautiful.

Angry Letter (FINAL)

Dear TSA,

      Traveling is a very nerve-wracking thing to do.  Airplanes, especially, are cause much stress and anxiety.  Recently, on a Make a Wish Trip my family and I were deeply inconvenienced by your lack of knowledge, ignorance, and inobservances.  In security we found even with a large blue pin that says in large font: "MAKE A WISH" that you could not address the fact that we were not posing a threat.  You expedited my father and I but not my mother who has trouble with walking, and my brother who has other medical needs.  This not only delayed us, but sent a message of how your staff was careless, but also ignorant.  However, I am glad you checked to ensure my mother who troubled with waking carried a minor bomb or chemical in her shoe.  it would have been a shame if she had ruined my trip by exploding the plane.

    Later in the process, our bags were fully checked and devices powered on and off as workers asked what the Wish was for.  We had thought that if you noticed the pin, it should register we are not going to be the ones to bomb or hijack the plane.  but with technology of 2014, you never know when somebody is going to make a hack an airliner app. One worker even sifted through a bag of my brother's containing only medicine, even checking inside some bottles for drugs, anthrax, or any other chemical which we obviously would not have.  We found this very insulting as you possibly thought that we used pins and children to disguise the next plane hijacking.  Also, your stupidity is shown by the fact that on Jamaica a native gave us a wooden carving for free seeing the pin on our bag.  The fact that a poor person would do this when you could not expedite my whole family having the pins is shocking and shows you have an ignorant, unobservant staff.  But it is a good thing they checked to see if my ill brother would possibly kill his little sibling on a Make A Wish vacation and everybody else on the plane with anthrax .

    At the terminal we were surprised to see a teenager with a bag in the shape of a rifle.  Not only was it a gun but it was his carry-on which did no meet the standards for our Jet Blue flight.  But I perfectly understand that a hunting rifle poses no threat in the slightest.  If the plane was to be hijacked he could defend us.  Never mind, if the the plane was to be hijacked, he would be the one to do it.
   Overall, your employees are very incompetent and sometimes stupid.  We saw many supried to see you could wheel a suitcase around.  When they saw people like us wheeling a suitcase and holding a carry on, (two actions at once) you could see jaws hit the floor. It must be nice being that stupid, every time you wake up it is a whole new adventure because you are to stupid to remember yesterday,  But I can't assume, just ask your workers for a legitimate explanation.  If you want to prevent plane hijacking and bombing, please make sure your employees use common sense, are literate, and have the ability to use critical thinking skills to solve a two step problem.
Sincerely,
Dylan Moreau

Post Script

   According to The Plot Sickens most students tested with writing a story when the first two sentences given, the endings are sad and or tragic.  Mine was, too, but for other reasons besides culture.  The only aspect effected by my culture where military is often thought of and advanced is the implicit telling of an airborne operation.  It ends with saying few will survive, but not because I wanted them to die.  Most might have lived if I was to continue the story.  Originally, I was going to do a story of an average plane ride.  This of course would be boring especially because it was explicit as in nothing for the audience to figure themselves.  I realized I could make the children low level soldiers and the outnumbered adults officers and generals.  Also, seeing they are an airborne division I had them heroically jump to battle.  There was little time left in class to complete the draft so instead of saying they all lived and make you happy, I showed how war really is, there is one victor.  In this story it obviously was not the Americans which I made the gloomy fog show.  This is why the fog "thickened and grew darker" as the soldiers thought of it more.  This is how my story is not really like what the author says.
   However, I see how she came to her conclusion.  Many children are influenced by culture.  This is how many people come to conclusions of others too.  Children as they grow like to play as if they were in the army.  They also find other violent aspect of life interesting.  If they are to grow up with violence, drugs, or alcohol around them, they will most probably incorporate it in their writing like the students.  Therefore, as I agree with the author of The Plot Sickens, although, my story is an exception.  

Short Fictional

   I stare down at the body.  Covered and swimming in blood.  The face with a horrified look.  The limbs flailed out in every direction.  This is the best  one yet.  I drag the body to my trunk and throw it in.I hear it bouncing in my trunk.  The walkie-talkie is sounding, startled I speed forward past a pulled over car.  Its sirens go off and I know I must stop.

   "Step out of the car son," the grey-haired man says with some anger.  The walkie-talkie sounds again.  "Pop the trun' son."

   "It's my son's stupid toy why?"

   "What are you talkin' 'bout boy?" Oh no, he did not hear the walkie-talkie.  I know what, lets make this a really fun night.

   I pop the trunk and quickly pull the gun out of the hollister and shoot him low.  Thank you God for the cop tying his shoes. I throw him in the trunk to not be detected.

      I'm lying in this trunk thinking of how to get out.  The murderer left the other cops gun in here but I don't know where it is.  I'll wait for him to stop.  That's what I'll do. The brake lights flash.  No sight of it.  A few minutes later their on for a while I look but am blinded by the blood of the cheif.  

  I feel the car violently turn.  There are wrenches, drills, and hammers falling on my and bumping into me. The drill stabs my leg and its hard to breathe, it hurts so much as I try to bend to get it out, and worsens as the car turns again.  Its stabbing further in, I yelp even harder. 

   Reaching.  Reaching.  Reaching. O feel the rubber grip, give.it.a quick tug.  I yell even more. I hear the shift click.  I feel alone. Where's the murderer?  Click.  The ceiling rises.

   "Hi, how are you?" Why is he afraid I do not understand.  He scrambles but I shoot his other leg. Somebody has some issues. "Do you need help?  I think you do.  Let me fix you up sweetums.  I know just what you want!"

   I feel the dirt filter through my hair as the my legs are pulled toward the dark log cabin.  I am pulled to his shining silver table.  "I know just what you want," he says.  The drill in his hand starts to turn.

Timed Prompt

   Christmas Eve.  Fog stuck to the tarmac at Lindbergh Field.  The delayed flight was now ready to board.  As seated the passengers looked to the windows to the back of them.  They pushed the wolf grey cover upwards but it was still there.  Outside of the room there is a sudden roar that slowly gets louder.  The pilot instructs them of their protocol.  The passengers looked through the window across them to see the cloud move and form around the plane.  The cloud started to move faster and faster.

   The children grew nervous and anxious.  The outnumbered parents tried to hush them.  The floor jerked up and the passengers started to lean to their left and right.  They thought about what was coming  as the cloud got thicker.  The deeper they thought the darker and thicker the cloud grew.  The room also started to rattle more.

  The pilot was desperate to see.  He constantly checked the black and green screen.  He grew more nervous and comfortable as more green crosses joined his.  He too was nervous about what was coming.  The radio constantly flared like a firework show with orders and coordinates.

   The spacious room ratted again.  They new they were closer as the fog cleared little by little and the desert wings shined in the baking sun.  They looked down from time to time seeing the faces across from them shining with sweat as they looked up to God, down in desperation, or staring back at them under the green and tan helmets.

   Eventually in all the silence one parent got up, confidently with a pessimistic tone instructed his fellow parents and brave children.  The Titan leveled out and one by one the fearful children, followed by the parents jumped out in formation.  Few ever to see another Christmas Eve again.