愛爾蘭代寫essay|MY WONDERFUL LOUSY POEM

發布時間:2020-05-28 22:30
When I was eight or nine years old, I wrote my first poem. My mother read the little poem and began to cry. “Buddy, you didn’t really write this beautiful, beautiful poem!” Shyly, proud bursting, I stammered that I did. My mother poured out her praise. Why, this poem was nothing short of genius!
 I glowed. “What time will Father be home?” I asked. I could hardly wait to show him what I had accomplished. My mother said she hoped he would be home around 7. I spent the best part of that afternoon preparing for his arrival. First, I wrote the poem out in my finest flourish. Then I used colored crayons to draw an elaborate border around it. Then I waited. As 7 o’clock drew near, I confidently placed it right on my father’s plate on the dining-room table.
 But my father did not return at 7. Seven-fifteen. Seven-thirty. I could hardly stand the suspense. I admired my father. He was head of Paramount Studios in Hollywood but he had begun his motion-picture career as a writer. He would be able to appreciate this wonderful poem of mine even more than my mother.
 This evening it was almost 8 o’clock when my father burst in. He was an hour late for dinner. His mood seemed thunderous. He could not sit down but circled the long dining-room table with a drink in his hand, calling down terrible oaths on his employees.
 “Imagine, we would have finished the picture tonight,” my father was shouting. “Instead that moron suddenly gets it into her beautiful empty, little head that she can’t play the last scene. So the whole company has to stand there at $1,000 a minute while this silly little blank walks off the set! And now I have to beg her to come back!”
 He wheeled in his pacing, paused and glared at his plate. There was a suspenseful silence. “What is this?” He was reaching for my poem.
 “Ben, a wonderful thing has happened,” my mother began. “Buddy has written his first poem! And it’s beautiful, absolutely amaz-- ”
 “If you don’t mind, I’d like to decide for myself,” Father said.
 I kept my face lowered to my plate as he read that poem. It was only ten lines. But it seemed to take hours. I could hear him dropping the poem back on the table. Now came the moment of decision.
 “I think it’s lousy,” he said.
 I couldn’t look up. My eyes were getting wet.
 “Ben, sometimes I don’t understand you,” my mother was saying. “This is just a little boy. You’re not in your studio now. These are the first lines of poetry he’s ever written. He needs encouragement.”
 “I don’t know why,” my father held his ground. “Isn’t there enough lousy poetry in the world already? No law says Buddy has to become a poet.”
 I couldn’t stand it another second. I ran from the dining-room up to my room, threw myself on the bed and sobbed. When I had cried the worst of the disappointment out of me, I could hear my parents still quarreling over my first poem at the dinner table.
 That may have been the end of the anecdote—but not of its significance for me. A few years later I took a second look at the first poem, and reluctantly I had to agree with my father’s harsh judgment. It was a pretty lousy poem. After a while, I worked up the courage to show him something new, a short story. My father thought it was overwritten but not hopeless. I was learning to rewrite. And my mother was learning that she could criticize me without crushing me. You might say we were all learning. I was going on 12.
 As I worked my way into other books and plays and films, it became clearer and clearer to me how fortunate I had been. I had a mother who said, “Buddy, did you really write this? I think it’s wonderful!” and a father who shook his head no and drove me to tears with, “I think it’s lousy.” A writer—in fact every one of us in life—needs that mother force, the loving force from which all creation flows; and yet the mother force alone is incomplete, even misleading, finally destructive. It needs the balance of the force that cautions, “Watch. Listen. Review. Improve.”
 Those conflicting but complementary voices of my childhood echo down through the years—wonderful…lousy…wonderful…lousy—like two opposing winds battering  me. I try to steer my small boat so as not to turn over before either. Between the two poles of affirmation and doubt, both in the name of love, I try to follow my true course.
Choose the best answer to each of the following questions:
When the mother cried, “Buddy, you didn’t really write this beautiful, beautiful poem!”
she didn’t believe that her son had really written this beautiful poem
she was not sure whether her son had written this poem
she meant that an eight-or –nine-year-old boy could not have written such a wonderful poem
she wanted to let her son know she was amazed that he had written such a beautiful poem
That afternoon the author spent a great deal of time
rewriting his poem
drawing pictures around the poem
carefully copying and decorating the poem
Both a and b.
Which of the following statements is NOT true according to the text?
The author was confident that his father would like the poem better than his mother did.
The author’s father had once worked as a film script writer and was then working as a film director
The father returned home late and was very angry that evening
They did not finish the film because the movie star refused to play the last scene
We may infer from the context that the word “lousy” means
very bad
childish
meaningless
overwritten
“my father held his ground” could best be replaced by
“my father was shouting loudly”
“my father was very angry.”
“my father refused to give in.”
All of the above.
On hearing his father’s judgment the author felt
pained
hurt
disappointed
all of the above.
Which of the following conclusions do you think the author might agree with?
a. This childhood event changed the author’s course of life.
b. This event made the author all the more determined the become a writer.
 c. Looking back on the event in his childhood, the author sees it in a new light and comes to realize its great significance
d. From his “first poem” experience the author knew that he could never become a poet, so he started to work his way into stories, plays and films.
The author owes his success as a professional writer
to his own courage and confidence
more to his mother’s praise than to his father’s criticism
more to his father’s caution than to his mother’s encouragement
to both his mother’s warm encouragement and his father’s harsh judgement.
Quite a few figurative expressions are used in the story. Two of them that appear in the last paragraph: “ I try to steer my small boat…” and “I try to follow my true course” are both
metaphors
similes
personifications
symbols
Another good title for this passage might be
An Anecdote in My Childhood.
Two Conflicting but Complementary Voices
A scene to Remember
An Important Lesson.

我是8或9歲的時候,我寫了我的第一首詩。我的母親讀了一首小詩,并哭了起來。 “老弟,你沒有真正寫這個美麗的,美麗的詩!”羞答答地,驕傲的破滅,我結結巴巴地說,我沒有。我的母親倒出了她的贊美。為什么,這首詩是什么天才!
 我閃著。我問:“爸爸什么時候回家?”我迫不及待地告訴他我已經完成。我的母親說,她希望他會是7家左右。我度過了他的到來,下午準備的最好的部分。首先,我寫的詩,在我最好的蓬勃發展。然后,我用彩色蠟筆它周圍畫上精致的花邊。然后,我等待著。 7點鐘臨近,我有信心把它放在我父親的用餐室的桌子上板。
 但我的父親沒有返回7。 7-15。七三。我幾乎都站不住了懸念。我很佩服我的父親。他在好萊塢派拉蒙影城頭,但作為一個作家,他開始了他的運動畫面生涯。他將能體會到我的這個美好的詩甚至超過了我的母親。
 今天晚上將近8點的時候,我的父親沖了進來,他遲到了一個小時的晚餐。他的心情似乎雷鳴。他無法坐下,但盤旋在他的手喝一杯,飯廳表調用了可怕的誓言,在他的員工。
 “想想看,我們已經完成了圖片今晚,”我父親喊。 “可是那個白癡突然冒出了她美麗的空,小腦袋,她演不了最后一個場景。所以整個公司站在那里,一分鐘1000美元,而這個愚蠢的小空白走開集!現在,我不得不求她回來!“
 他在他的起搏輪式,停了停,瞪著他的盤子。有懸念的沉默。 “這是什么?”他伸手去拿我的詩。
 “奔,一個奇妙的事情發生了,”我的母親就開始了。 “巴迪寫了他的第一首詩!它的美麗,絕對AMAZ - “
 ,“父親說:”如果你不介意,我想自己決定。
 我一直在我的臉下調至我的盤子里,他讀了這首詩。這是只有十行。但它似乎需要花費數小時。我能聽到他把詩放回桌子上。現在來決定的那一刻。
 “我認為這是糟糕的,”他說。
 我可以不看。我的眼睛濕了。
 “奔,有時我不理解你,”我的母親說。 “這僅僅是一個小男孩。你不是在你的工作室。這些都是他曾經寫的第一首詩。他需要鼓勵。“
 “我不知道為什么,”我的父親舉行了他的地。 “是不是有在全球已經足夠糟糕的詩歌?沒有法律說,巴迪已經成為一個詩人。“
 我再也無法忍受另一個第二。餐室我跑我的房間,撲倒在床上抽泣起來。當我哭了最壞的出我的失望,我能聽到我的父母仍然爭吵在飯桌上我的第一首詩。
 這可能已經結束的軼事,但不是對我來說意義。幾年后,我采取了第二個看的第一首詩,我不得不勉強同意與我父親的嚴苛的評判。這是一個相當糟糕的詩。一段時間后,我鼓足勇氣向他出示了一些新的東西,一個簡短的故事。我的父親以為是覆蓋的,但不絕望。我是學重寫。和我的母親得知她可以批評我我沒有破碎。你可能會說,我們所有的學習。我本來打算12。
 由于我的工作我的方式進入其他書籍,戲劇和電影,它變得越來越清晰,我是多么幸運,我一直。我有一個母親,他說,“老弟,真是你寫的嗎?我認為這是美妙的!“和一個父親,誰搖搖他的頭沒有和開車送我的眼淚,”我認為這是糟糕的。“à作家,其實每1,我們在生活中的需要,母力,愛好力從所有的創造流量,但母親的力量是不完整的,甚至是誤導,終于破壞性。它需要告誡說,“關注力的平衡。聽。檢閱。提高“。
 通過這些相互矛盾的,但互補的聲音,我的童年回聲年精彩...糟糕...精彩......糟糕的毆打我的兩個對立的風一樣。我嘗試讓我的小船,以免翻身之前要么。肯定與懷疑的兩極之間,無論是在愛的名義,我嘗試按照我的正確途徑。
選擇最好的回答以下問題:
當母親哭了,“老弟,你沒有真正寫這個美麗的,美麗的詩!”
她不相信她的兒子真的寫了這首美麗的詩
她不知道是否她的兒子寫了這首詩
她的意思是八或九一年歲的男孩可能不會寫這樣一個美妙的詩
她希望讓兒子知道她很驚訝,他寫了這樣一個美麗的詩
那天下午,筆者花了大量的時間
重寫他的詩
畫畫各地的詩
仔細復制和裝飾的詩
a和b。
下面的語句根據文本,是不是真的?
筆者相信,父親會喜歡的詩比他的母親做的更好。
筆者的父親曾經擔任電影劇本作家,作為一個電影導演工作
父親回到家很晚了,而且很生氣,晚上
他們沒有完成的電影,因為電影明星拒絕扮演的最后一個場景
我們可以從上下文中推斷出這個詞“爛”是指
太差
幼稚
無意義
覆蓋
“我的父親舉行了自己的立場”最可能被替換
“我的父親大聲喊”
“我的父親非常生氣。”
“我的父親不肯讓步。”
上述所有。
筆者覺得聽到他父親的判斷
苦澀
失望的
上述所有的。
你認為以下哪個結論筆者可能會同意嗎?
了。這童年的事件改變了作者的生命過程中。
二。這個事件讓筆者更堅定了成為一名作家。
 三。回首他的童年中的事件,筆者看到它在一個新的光來實現偉大意義
四。從他的第一首詩“的經驗,筆者知道,他永遠不可能成為一個詩人,所以他開始工作,他的故事,戲劇和電影的方式進入。
筆者作為一個專業的作家,他的成功歸功于
自己的勇氣和信心
他母親的贊美,而不是他父親的批評
父親的謹慎,而不是他的母親的鼓勵下
他母親的熱情鼓勵和他父親的嚴苛的評判。
不少比喻表達的故事。他們兩個人出現在最后一段:“我盡量避開我的小船......”,“我嘗試按照我的正確途徑”
隱喻
比喻
人格化
符號
這段經文的另一個好標題可能
在我的童年軼事。
兩個沖突而互補的音色
要記住的場景
一個重要的教訓。

如果您有論文代寫需求,可以通過下面的方式聯系我們

提交代寫需求

如果您有論文代寫需求,可以通過下面的方式聯系我們。

在線客服

售前咨詢
售后咨詢
微信號
Essay_Cheery
微信
英国代写_数学代写_c++/c代写_留学生代写怎么查出来?