Mary’s Trip

Campfire story: A trip of a life time

fire 2fire .jpeg


Maid: Oh dear, she smoking again. Let me wake the poor baby.

Maid leaves to the nursery

Mary R: Is my child ready for his bed time story? I must prepare for my narrative.

Baby Joseph wails loudly in the corridor

Maid: with a crunched up face  Yes Mistress, your child is ready for your story, but ma’am please do tie your hair back, the odor does disturb the poor babe.

Mary R: What is that you say? The smell of the herb brings forth blessings and sweet water from the Palms of Egyptian lands. My child clings to my breast in want for more, please watch your words.

Maid: Yes ma’am

Mistress walks of towards nursery, and approaches crib, there lays Joseph crying and flustered from being woken up.

Mary R: Oh dear, do not cry my love I know you have been waiting for my story time. Now the time has come for my tale.

Picking up the child and sitting down in the rocking char. Mary drapes her long budded hair around the child, whom immediately starts to cry louder.

Mary R: Once upon a time, there was a little girl surrounded by her loving happy  family. When she got a little older her father let her go forage in woods knowing if she went too far his brother,  Joshua, would watch her. She went outside in the woods to play and find herbs for her parents. There was plenty of berries for her mom and  special tobacco leaves for her dad to get for them. At the end of her day in the woods she come home empty handed and with lots of scratches. She told her family the Indians attacked her and took all her goods. The little girl’s father went and burned down the Indians Wigwams as punishment for hurting her. The next day the little girl went to collect her goods and came home empty handed and bruised up. She told her father the Priest beat her up and took her food, as a result the father burned all the churches as punishment. With no one else in the woods to hurt his daughter, he let her go out and play. When she returned home bruised and scratched up she hid from her parents. When her mom discovered her scratches, she said it was more Indians. So her father set the whole forest ablaze trying to drive out all the Indians. When the fire reached the other side of the forest it burned down her uncles home too. Her father was too late to save Joshua, lying next to his badly burnt body was all the dried berries and tobacco leaves stolen from his daughter. In the end the father killed the Indians and Christians over hurting his daughter when truly, it was his own flesh and blood instead. That day the little girl confessed her sins proclaiming she did hit the “stinking pipe” and never returned home with the goods because she smoked it all. She learned not to lie, because more people died then necessary. The End.



My story is a parody about Mary Rowlandson’s and the three little pigs. I wanted my story to insinuate that Mary was actually high during her captivity with the Indians and does not remember the real results. The introduction before Mary R, begins her story the maids smell her smoking and understands this is a queue for a bed time story. Mary R uses her bed time story with her son to practice drafts for her narrative. Instead of her being held captive by the Indians she was actually hanging out with her uncle Joshua getting high. She got so high during her time with him she forgot the true events of the story which is why her narrative puts the Indians in such a bad light. As the story concludes the Indians were cast in a better light, that is because she vaguely remembered it was not the Indians fault after all. Referencing directly from the Eight Remove, Mary’s son randomly comes to her and talks about the bible, this experience is reflected in her accusation of the priests. During class we discussed the idea if Mary “hit the stinking tobacco pipe” and my story is about how she did. Overall her long narrative was actually a foggy childhood memory she is now telling her son.


Moore Music

Irish Melodies written by Thomas Moore, highlight the true symbolism a harp carries for the Irish community. The short poem “Dear Harp of my Country” is a cry for the loss and stagnation of a crucial national symbol. The harp is a guide for light for this author, which hints that it gives a sense of home and security. By identifying with this article of instruments he entwines a future hope while personifying the harp. He has freed the harp from shadows and like a good friend, so did the harp open up the country to “The warm lay of love and light note of gladness”.  Now historically the Irish may be considered barbaric but this delicate and beautiful instrument supports other opinions on the Irish true forms. These people brought themselves joy and identify from the music that was produced when well played “  This sweet wreath of song is the last we shall twine”. Removal from this native instrument causes the author to conclude his poem is aa farewell that creates sadness for all parties. The harp misses the  Irish, the Irish miss the harp and the readers can interpret just by reading the poem slowdown in pace and use sad words. Overall this poem complicates the idea Irish are barbarians but extends future on the fact this culture was tied to this lovely instrument.

Flint Michigan 2019,

A rendition of Willum Blakes’ “London” reflecting how well he capture the sorrowful streets of London.

By Ashley Jackson

Seek I search through each narrow lane

Near the hall of fame

Nay the frame of the fame, failed to persist

For the all left trying to resist


With every smack of the lips

Or beg of the babe

Through the dusted shadows

They all cry out in pain


Oh how the steam puffs nevermore

Even the priest have gone afar

In search of a whore

With a teat full of water


Blasphemy says the orange incumbent

While the children dent their height

Tonight no other shall rest

Till the will for well is recovered

sunset cup water drink

Photo by Meir Roth on

Ways down a river

Readers do not need to read between the lines to have an understanding of the battle between light and dark, in the poem “Lines”. The short fanciful poem “Lines” written by Coleridge, is highlighting a mans struggle to find peace of heart amongst the deafening darkness around him. Similar to the painting made by “Joseph William Turner (1775-1851), Buttermere Lake : A Shower, 1798” there is a fight for the viewers’ attention between all the dark and light shades that add so much depth to deal with. The complexity of this painting with many layers of mountains, a wide to narrow river, including the detailed sky is a lot to handle in one image but it all fits together in a neat shape. All these pieces belong with each other and they all include separate factors that add to the overall purpose of this painting, which in my opinion is the horizon end of the rainbow. I believe this is the focus point of the painting because everything seems to be pointing towards it, all sides of the painting blend in, to finally meet this climax. Like this painting directs attention to a main point, so does the poem direct its readers to follow movement. The way that water is moving physically past the boat, the water is the conductor to move past emotions and futures and the movement of water is the last nose to be made. Clearly it holds importance as it is the main mode of progress for the writer to base most of his metaphors and personification onto. We read “ The boat her silent path pursues! And see how dark the backward stream”, this is the first tangible thing the reader is introduced to and that makes it important. Just as each factor in the painting is important this boat in each image is no exception, because they are both leading us to the main point. Even if someone interpreted the main point to be completely different the real passage steams from the movement of the water.

Buttermere Lake, with Part of Cromackwater, Cumberland, a Shower exhibited 1798 by Joseph Mallord William Turner 1775-1851

-ashley Jackson

Keep Pace, to keep peace

Traditionally romantic poetry can be seen as a emotional expression between one or two people, desiring each other to give full attention towards one another. Also on the opposite side of the spectrum a single person very infatuated with a signal individual, and lacks the courage to seek a physical encounter. Either traditional definition, does not apply to the broader aspects of what romantic poetry can really be. In the case of Coleridge’s poem “The Rime of the Ancient Marinere,” the rhythmic tempo and story line puts it in the file of romantic poetry. Each bracket of quotes flows seamlessly into one another, and the picture painted between the lines is important to us readers. Lines 243-246 conveys the terrible image of dead bodies lying around and the repulsive smell coming from them. There is nothing romantic about this thought, but the rhythm that creates this picture is nothing short of well to do poetry. Similar to the ebb and flow of the Iron Maidens song, the rhythm is smooth enough to engage and capture its audience. So romanticism does not need to be about love, but can be about finding a rhythm you find passionate enough to speak about. Which both our author and band group were able to create despite the difference in each others audience.

Because I said so


Equiano obsessively quotes books and theological works because he is able to establish a real foundation from the problem. The problem in this case is the egotistical educated men that are mercilessly enslaving his people. He quotes their words, to keep them attached to the facts of persuasive essay. In the U.S court case Standing Bear ex real. Vs Crook, Standing bear during his closing statement holds up his hand to the court and states “ if this hand was to bleed it would bleed that same color as yours would”. During this time he is trying to make a connection with the judge trying to give them physical that aligns their perspective with his own. Olaudah is doing the same in an attempt to form connection with his readers in hope to gain a common meeting ground. Using their words he is able to at least draw their attention to facts they already understand, but just not in that particular understanding.


-ashley jackson

See my point?

Perspective: its how we see our world. True over time it can alter through ways of expanding decreasing or coming to a sharp end. Two ways a persons perspective is regulated without control is the gender that possess at birth. A women and a man can share similar life experiences but view the tragedies or success in completely different ways. In the case of tragedies, becoming another persons slave or prisoner is a tragic scaring event that will mark their life’s in a significant manner. Which is why I find the different writings between Gulliver and Rowlandson to be mostly a result between a mans life and a women’s life, despite the obvious genre differences.

Take in Gullivers first request “the first requested I made after I obtained Liberty, was that I might have License to see Mildendo, the Metropolis;”(part 1, chap4) . The difference I want you to notice is how Mary;s first request was food and water. Whereas in the case of Gulliver he wants to get out see the sights meet the people. Despite one being a fictional comedy and one being nonfictional narrative they were both under the circumstances of foreign land and people. I find it comical how Rowlandson was originally not allowed to be in communion with the Natives, whereas Gulliver literally could not come in “The Lanes and Alleys which I could not enter, but only viewed them as I passed, are from twelve to eighteen inches”(Part1, chap 4). I suppose only or at least a man could only make humor out of captivity. Whereas women suffer death or loss of her husband in captive situations. Furthermore Gullivers misses out on the difficultly of assimilating with new culture, all the struggle of dealing with this new captive was remaining on the captors shoulders and not the other way around. Working to stitch together beds and sheets for his comfort instead of laying on cold hard floors as Rowlandson has done. Our male authors perspective as a man free’s him to make the topic of ship wrecked and captivity funny.

-Jackson A

Haiku and More

Prolog: Do you see the Godliness in yourself for not complaining, the way negros do, about your everlasting pain and suffering? Do you find solace in redemption by avoiding the obvious two sided mistreatment we clearly toss at one another? To recognize your mistreatment requires you to recognize the equal demons of your own failures to adhere to your own faith. Which so clearly instructs you to befriend your neighborhood, yet you so rightly ignore. So, burn down the page your faith is written on while you simultaneously burn down our forest and homes leaving our women unprotected and children cold.

Color shades Ripple through cast

Warm white front Burn(t) Jews, God sent

Conquest comfort wipe generations away

-Jackson A

Timeless Injustice

The relationship that Mary Rowlandson was able to develop during her time with the Native Americans, only confirms the history of intolerance against this group of individuals. A women of prestige witnessed the massacre of her town and endured watching her baby die in her arms during her captivity. Nonetheless after a few weeks of capture she developed a lasting admiration for these very same people, whom only weeks ago killed many of her kin. By the end of her story her readers have moved on just as she has. Now we all know that time heals all, but does time heal voids created by death? Seems to be in the case of Rowlandson, new friendship is the real fill of heartache. Friendships she established with King Philip, his family, and community living in the wigwams were all the perfect foundations to move on from the horrors at the start of the story. Being able to create friendships, noting she was not raped, noted living amongst the starving tribe she was given food, confirms the inexcusable behavior from the British colonizers. These people were pushed to match the abrasive behavior from the white settlers only after they were subjected to horrors first. Whatever hill Winthrop envisions is nothing nearly as perfect America strives to be, the crest may have a good economy and healthy babies but the bottom is built-up rotting bodies. We cannot excuse Americas past history, just accept the decades of unnecessary intolerance dished out to anyone different of culture or religion. Clearly the genocide of the Native American people was especially unnecessary because in a short amount of time Rowlandson was able to accept and appreciate the kind nature of these people.

-AM Jackson

over the ocean

About a decade or more after the Spanish colonized South America, Pocahontas died when she went to England. Her relationship lasted for a short amount of time contrary to the social division, mostly as a result of travel.  Dryden in his own way knew that a marriage between Cortez and Cydaria would be too mystic and fake for his already stretching story. Arguably Dryden had a limited imagination but I would argue he only used the normal tools of realism to make this story. Even his own English audience would not be totally swept away by this pretty romance, so much would feel out of place. Instead of creating a streamlined story for his readers he gave them a story of more probability.


love stretch forth thy hand

A Wrist of gold bangles

And Brown ankles

I only see you

Reach for me as I reach for you


Through the mist I see a cave

Deep True and blue

Truth we can thrive if we dive

But never surface

For on the surface there is no Hope


Love travels in pairs

Dry Air lacks those pairs

Above this surface

There only dwells despair

For if we were to breath

I would lose the lovely heir


Why they when we

Together, us is trust

Apart, is only lust

For I must have us


-Ashley Jackson