I Am Poem

In school I am quiet.
Outside of school I am loud.

In class I am reserved.
In life I am out going.

In class discussions I am shy and never raise my hand.
In baton practice I am crazy, they call me the comedian.

My country lets me be free.
My school keeps me restrained.

I am the leader of my team.
I am a friend to all my peers.

My two personality makes me who I am.
I am Jessica Musseau.

Days had pasted and soon months. He laid there helplessly. His body as white as snow. His hands cold as ice. He hadn’t ate in days and it started to show. I could count each rib one by one. His bones where seeking through his skin and he began to look more like a skeleton than a human being. Every breathe was a struggle. His time was coming to an end.
Every morning I would go to his bed and try to wake him up. “Daddy, Daddy wake up!” He would wake up resistibly and would always having coughing fits. The nurses would rush in and push me aside like I was nothing, so that they could tend to my Daddy’s coughing spells. Most of the time he would cough up blood and the nurses would go into a silent panic. They all would stand there and look at each other, then call in the doctor. They knew he only had moments to spare.
One morning I went to go wake him up, I pushed, shoved and yelled for him to wake up. Nothing. As I pushed his body I felt he was colder than ever before. I persistent in my attempts to wake him. My mother had finally had a enough of my screaming and came in to see what was wrong. She began to call for him, “Lucius wake up my dear…” she called in the nurses and doctor. They gathered around him. My mother grabbed me and held me close as we watched helplessly. I could feel my mothers pain and the tears streaming down her face. And then happened, they pronounced he was gone at before sunrise. I had just lost my Daddy.
That day was the worst days of my life. The roman empire was all up in arms about their leaders death. They panicked and crying among the streets and they cried out his name. No one knew where the roman empire would go from here. As time pasted, I began to accept that my father was dead. I believe that he really didn’t even leave me. I felt his presents all around me, guiding me through my day. Every morning since his death, I felt him trying to wake me up, getting me back for all the time I woke him. I believe my father never really died, just his spirit here on earth. I see me around house from time to time checking up on things. My mother doesn’t believe me, when I tell her I see him. I see him back to his normal self, pink cheeks and always a grin on his face. A much happier form of my father. His spirit lives on and he never lets me forget his presents are around me all the time.

My Funeral

The sun was scorching and the humidity was higher than usual. It was so hot I could barely stand. I could feel the temperature rising as the time pasted. I decided to go find some where to sit because I could no longer tolerate the heat. I sat upon I stone bench under a tree. The bench had carvings of angels and all heavenly creatures. The bench seemed old from the cracked, rough edged surface and the growing moss crawling up the side. The tree did not give much relief from sun but it sustained my body temperature. As I sat I gazed around at the scenery. The lust grass filled the whole field. The rose bushes were in bloom. Stones where spaced out all around me. Some of the stones were standing and there were others that were in the ground. The stones inscribed different names and dates but from where I was sitting I could not make out anything. In the field there was a little dirt road and a little ways down the road, several cars began to pull up. They parked one right after another. People began to file out of their cars and crowded around this box. As they came up to the box, they placed different styles of flowers upon the box. Everyone was dressed in the same color, black. The men were in a black jacket and tie suit and all the women were wearing long black dresses with big huge hats and this fish net material that covered their faces. I got up and made my way over to the group of people to see what was going on. As I got a closer look, I saw the women weeping. Tears rolled down their faces one right after another. Standing at the front of the box was a man, who was reading from a book and saying some type of prayer to the poignant group. In the prayer I heard a name I recognize, a name I have heard repeatedly throughout my time. Josephine Turner, it was my name! The box than began to lower and the weeping women cries progressively got louder. I didn’t understand why everyone was crying. I went up to the stone that everyone was crowded around to see if I could get any type of understanding of what was going on. On the stone there was a inscription like all other stones. A beloved daughter and friend, September 2, 1890 - 1923, may she rest in peace, Josephine turner. Was it true, was this my funeral. I am the reason for bring such sorrow to these people. I looked around but I am alive, I thought. “I’m right here, I’m alive” I yelled. No one even acknowledged my presents. No one looked up or even flinched. I shook a women vigorously, so that I could get some type of acknowledgement. Nothing. The people began to make their way back to their cars. “STOP! STOP!” I yelled trying to hold back people. Nothing worked. “I’m right here!” My eyes began to water and tears streamed down my face. There was no hope. I went back to the box. I saw myself being lowered in to the ground. Then men tossing dirt into the whole of where I laid. I the thought to myself about how all those people were there for me and that I was cause for their unhappiness, but why couldn’t anyone hear me, why didn’t they see me, I was right there. Then I wondered, was I really alive? Where am I….?



Photo taken by Jude Huff-Felz GRS member at the Bachelor’s Grove cemetery 8/10/91 http://www.ghostresearch.org/ghostpics/ghost3.html

My Declaration

I declare my concept to be the afterlife. I chose the afterlife because I always wondered what happens after death. I do believe that there is life after death but I don’t know exactly what. Where do you go? Does reincarnation happen? Where do you leave your spirit? Is there a heaven or hell? I think that you should not be afraid of death, you have no way of escaping it, you should just in brace it and what ever comes, comes. Do not fear the unknown.

The Egyptian Hell

I laid there… Thinking about what I had done, if I did not go out that night I wouldn’t be I where I was now. I did not care about what anyone thought. I loved him. No one could of stopped me from seeing him. I did not care if he was a peasant. And surely my royal title was not going to keep me away. That night was going to be the most wonderful night of my life. The moon was glowing and the sky looked like it had thousands of sparkling white diamonds. The air was crisp, but had the aroma of the market animals. You could hear the rustling of the rodents and snores of the camels. We were going to run away from the palace. Or as I saw it, the slave dungeon, where my every move scrutinized. I was a slave locked in my own palace, desperately trying to get away. And my true love was going to be the one, that was going to set me free.
We had made it past the big, stone palace wall, without anyone hearing us. Then pasted the bare market and found ourselves in the lifeless desert. We were finally safe, at least we thought so. All of the sudden shouts and the gallop of stampeding horses was near. It was them! The palace guards darted towards us. I ran as fast as I could. Tears began to roll down my face just thinking about what could happen to us. It made it harder to run and guards were catching up. He pulled me along, trying as hard as he could to get me to run faster, but it was too late. They had plummeted my lover and I to the ground. We were then tossed like dolls over the horses backs and brought back to the palace. There we came face to face with the stern and all mighty powerful ruler, my father. He sat upon his thrown with my mother by his side, looking at my lover and I in disgust. My father wanted nothing to do with me. He believed that I had dishonored him and the whole royal family. He no longer wanted be to associate to me. I was no longer his daughter, I was commoner. He stripped me of my royal title and my family. Then he announced our sentences. My fears came alive.
My lover was sentenced to be headed in front of all to see. I clasped in the guards arms and pleaded with the ruler not to hurt him, but there was no changing his mind. Then it was my turn. Tears were rolling down my face and then immediately my face went in shock. And that is how I got here. The first couple of hours were unbearable. I gasped for air. The screaming had left me breathless and the scratching and digging of my tomb had left me weak. I was left there to rot. With the time I had left, I thought about what was going to happen once I had no life in me. Where in the afterlife was I going to go? Was I going to hell for internality? Is there even an afterlife? Before I was put me in the tomb, the ruler inscribed that I would rot in hell and never escape the evil ways. My time was coming to an end, nothing was left. I soon would find out where I would end up.

By Jessica Musseau

Discussion Question

Do believe that there is a afterlife? What is your ideal afterlife and what would it look like?

“Assumption of the Virgin”

This composition is “Assumption of the Virgin”, which is apart of Christian art. The composition is painted by Anton Kern. The painting demonstrates the Rococo style of painting and drawing, which Anton Kern was the master of. From 1724 till 1731 Anton lived in Venice and then in 1738 moved to Rome. When Anton kern studied his love for art, he studied with a man named Giovanni Battista Pittoni. Pittoni was “a Venetian painter and draftsman, who focused on religious, historical, and mythological subject matter.” Since studying with Pittoni, this could be why kern’s art work is about religious, historical and mythological subject matter.
The whole story behind “Assumption of the Virgin” has been dictated in many different ways. Many believe that Mary died in Jerusalem, then after “the apostles gathered around her tomb and opened it, but the tomb was found empty except for her burial shroud. As tradition holds, Mary had been physically lifted and carried to heaven.”
In my opinion I don’t think that the apostles carrying up the virgin Mary are really good because of color of the apostles, they have a dark tone to them. They have a dark tone under their clothes or robs and also their wings are very dark. I also get the feeling that man in the bottom left corner isn’t really good also. The choice of color of is rob, has the feeling of the presents of the devil. He also looks like the devil because of his long beard. I say this because most pictures of the devil depict him with a beard. The most emphasis is on the virgin Mary because it is the largest figure on the composition. Between the virgin Mary and then numbers of people around her tomb, both give a balance to the painting. The over all image of the “Assumption of the Virgin” is very strong in color and has the sense of the afterlife being good verses evil.
http://maa.missouri.edu/exhibits/finalfarewell/afterlife.html