Ghazals, Short Lyrical Poems that Blend Arabic and American Cultures

Like  the pantoum, the ghazal arose in another language and has recently come to life in English despite the difficulties of technical translation. Ghazals originated in 8th century Arabic verse, came to the Indian subcontinent with Sufis in the 12th century, and flourished in the voices of the great Persian mystics, Rumi in the 13th century and Hafez in the 14th century. After Goethe became enamored of the form, ghazals became popular among 19th century German poets, as well as more recent generations like the Spanish poet and playwright Federico Garcà ­a Lorca. In the last 20 years, the ghazal has taken its place among the adopted poetic forms used by many contemporary poets writing in English. A ghazal is a short lyric poem composed of a series of about 5 to 15 couplets, each of which stands independently on its own as a poetic thought. The couplets are linked through a rhyme scheme established in both lines of the first couplet and continued in the 2nd line of each following pair of lines. (Some critics specify that this rhyme carried through the 2nd line of each couplet must actually, in strict ghazal form, be the same ending word.) The meter is not strictly determined, but the lines of the couplets must be of equal length. Themes usually are connected to love and longing, either romantic desire for a mortal beloved, or a spiritual longing for communion with a higher power. The closing signature couplet of a ghazal often includes the poet’s name or an allusion to it. Ghazals traditionally invoke universal themes like love, melancholy, desire and address metaphysical questions. Indian musicians like Ravi Shankar and Begum Akhtar made ghazals popular in the United States during the 1960s. Americans also discovered ghazals through the New Delhi poet Agha Shahid Ali, who blended Indo-Islamic traditions with American-style storytelling.

twelfth night Essay - 952 Words

Twelfth Night Essay While many will agree that Shakespeare’s Twelfth Night is critically acclaimed to be one of the most entertaining and well-liked pieces that he has written, there tends to be a discrepancy over how the characters in the play are portrayed when it comes to the importance of gender roles. After reading James C Bulman’s article over the Globe’s more recent performance of Twelfth Night and Shakespeare’s original written version, I realized that there are many ways that this famous piece has been portrayed and each has its own pros and cons. Shakespeares Twelfth Night examines patterns of love and courtship through a twisting of gender roles. The play centers on the lead female role and protagonist, Viola, who†¦show more content†¦I honestly don’t believe that one’s opinion on same-sex couples has any importance when it comes to transvestite versus traditional role-play on stage. An author or director’s utmost g oal is to successfully present his/her work in a way that makes the audience members feel as if they are apart of the show like they were one of the characters themselves. In other words, it is all about believability. If the play calls for a young female character then I am more likely to follow along when a female actor is playing that role. On the contrary, I would be distracted focusing on the male actor trying to portray a female role. In all versions of Twelfth Night, however, the roles are so convoluted that it is difficult to say which would be more believable: Viola/Cesario played by a female actress or male actor. For example, in Nunn’s film, the scene where Orsino is in the tub and asks young Cesario to help him bathe, it wouldn’t make any difference in believability whether the actor was male or female since our minds have already had to entertain the thought of Viola representing both a man and a woman. Others may disagree and say that the sex of the actor /actresses would not have an effect on their acceptance of the play. As previously stated, it is entirely a personal matter. If it were up to me to direct this play I would do traditional casting, like Nunn had done, with men playing male characters and women playing femaleShow MoreRelatedTwelfth Night Essay1134 Words   |  5 PagesTwelfth Night Essay Twelfth Night is a comedy and a marvel. This play conveys many messages that are seen by the audience, but not seen by the characters in the play. There are many points involving love, friendship, conflicts and confusion. Twelfth Night displays characters that are mad, in love, and desperate for love. Twelfth Night has many conflicts that occur because characters fail to listen to messages. Viola is a character who has just thought that her brother has died in a shipwreck thatRead More Twelfth Night Essay968 Words   |  4 PagesIn Shakespeare’s play, Twelfth Night or What you Will, the characters are involved in a plot complete with trickery, disguise, and love. Each character is defined not by his or her gender or true identity, but by the role they are forced to take because of the complicated situation that arises. Unlike their gender, the speech the characters give an insight to their true personalities. In the Twelfth Night, the character Duke Orsino uses flowery an d over-dramatic language, long poetic sentenceRead MoreTwelfth Night and Pygmalion1783 Words   |  8 Pages The play Twelfth Night is set in a Elizabethan country household in a place called Illyria. Illyria is a fictional place. Although the setting felt familiar to the audience, the name Illyria gave it a feeling of escape from reality, something that was important because everyday life could be tough in those days. The people needed an escape from reality sometimes. In this play we meet the upper class, as well as the lower class. It is not certain whether it really is twelfth night, but there areRead MoreTwelfth Night Questions1595 Words   |  7 PagesTWELFTH NIGHT: SCENE QUESTIONS ACT 1, SCENE i 1. Where does the play open? 2. Imagine you are the director of a Twelfth Night production. What kind of music would you have played for this scene? 3. The Duke has a very famous speech, in the beginning of the play, about love. How is the Duke feeling about love as the play opens? 4. What news does Valentine bring the Duke? How does the Duke take this news? 5. Even though we haven’t met Olivia yet, what do we know about her? ACT I,Read MoreSummary Of Twelfth Night965 Words   |  4 PagesTwelfth Night - Scene I, Act I-III Summary By: Manraj Singh The first scene starts off at the Duke’s palace, where we, as the audience, are introduced to the duke, who is thinking to himself. Next, it is revealed that the Duke is listening to music, and is in love, as indicated by â€Å"O spirit of love, how quick and fresh art thou,† (I, i, 9). However, suddenly, he decides that he does not want to listen anymore, as indicated by: â€Å"Enough, no more!† (I, i, 7). After this, we are introduced to a characterRead MoreCritique Of Twelfth Night1746 Words   |  7 PagesEmma Rice revamps Shakespeare’s comedy Twelfth Night into a dazzling musical production, full of modern twists and references that encompass the original core of the play. In this eccentric production, comedy and music take center stage, supported by technical factors such as set, lighting, and sound, but brought to life by brilliant costuming, wondrous music, and the superb acting and singing abilities of the cast. Rice takes several liberties with the original structure and text of the play, manipulatingRead MoreViola in The Twelfth Night580 Words   |  2 PagesWho is Viola? Who REALLY is Viola? Viola is a very cunning, smart, and interesting character. This is shown in Shakespeare’s The Twelfth Night, this book is about three different lovers. The Duke loves Olivia, Olivia loves Cesario/Viola, and Cesario/Viola loves the Duke. Viola is trying to set up a new life after surviving a shipwreck in which her brother â€Å"died.† Viola is a cunning lady with lots of attitude. Viola influences almost every other character as well. She unintentionally tricks both theRead MoreTwelfth Night Love Essay1610 Words   |  7 Pages William Shakespeare has written a number of romantic comedies. Twelfth Night is one of the finest comedies of the author. Shakespeare is driven by Viola’s decision to voluntarily conceal her identity and go to work as a servant for the lovesick Orsino.This disguise and gender confusion a re there in the beginning of the play and finishes with happy ending. This paper tries to ascertain how Viola in Twelfth Night perform her disguise and become an ideal woman of Shakespeare’s own concept. There mayRead MoreTwelfth Night And Brokeback Mountain1338 Words   |  6 PagesAfter reading literary works such as Twelfth Night and â€Å"Brokeback Mountain,† it appears they share numerous themes with the novel Never Let Me Go. One theme particularly interesting regarding the novel Twelfth Night is that of identity. The theme of identity in Twelfth Night influenced me to think differently about Ishiguro’s text, Never Let Me Go, because it allows for a deeper understanding of the difficulty the clones faced in finding their identity. After reading Never Let Me Go, one can perceiveRead MoreGender Roles in Twelfth Night2204 Words   |  9 PagesStratford-upon-Avon, England, William Shakespeare is considered by many to have been the greatest writer the English language has ever known. His literary legacy included 37 plays, 154 sonnets, and five major poems. Among his many plays is the notable, Twelfth Night, a romantic comedy, placed in a festive atmosphere in which three couples are brought together happily. The play opens with Orsino, the Duke of Illyria, expressing his deep love for the Countess Olivia. Meanwhile, the shipwrecked Viola disguises

Night Creature Hunter’s Moon Chapter 26 Free Essays

string(47) " the bathroom and wet a cloth with cold water\." We returned to my apartment about midday. The parking lot remained deserted. A good thing, too, since Jessie’s shirt was a mess. We will write a custom essay sample on Night Creature: Hunter’s Moon Chapter 26 or any similar topic only for you Order Now Will and I looked like we’d bathed in red paint to our elbows. The three of us hurried to my place. I dug out my first-aid kit. After washing myself, I cleaned and bandaged Jessie’s â€Å"scratch† while Will called Cora Kopway. â€Å"You should probably have stitches,† I said. â€Å"Slap a butterfly Band-Aid or two on there and shut up.† I followed her advice, though none too gently. She didn’t flinch. What a woman. Her shoulder would match mine. If her furrow had been thirteen inches instead of three. â€Å"She’ll see us at four,† Will said. I finished my lame attempt at medical assistance. â€Å"How far away is it?† â€Å"About an hour.† Great. I could catch a nap. Sadly, the two of them didn’t seem in any hurry to leave. When Jessie said she was going to stick to me like glue, I hadn’t thought she meant while I slept. â€Å"Aren’t you two going to go back to your place?† â€Å"What for?† Jessie asked. â€Å"I like it here.† She settled into a chair, put her feet on the coffee table. She’d appear relaxed if she’d been wearing a shirt. The bra and khaki trousers just didn’t say â€Å"laid back.† â€Å"You need to change,† I pointed out. â€Å"Don’t you like me just the way I am?† â€Å"Get out.† â€Å"I don’t think I will.† My eyes narrowed. â€Å"Listen, McQuade, I was doing just fine before I met you.† â€Å"That was against your average, everyday werewolf.† â€Å"You can’t move in with me.† â€Å"No?† â€Å"I don’t need a babysitter.† â€Å"Come on, Jess,† Will murmured. â€Å"You could use a shower, new clothes, a little nap.† â€Å"See? You guys need a nap. So do I.† â€Å"I can imagine who you’ll be sleeping with.† I hadn’t even thought of that. I had truly planned on a nap, but maybe I needed to get tired first. â€Å"Get lost.† I threw her bloody shirt into her lap. Her mouth tightened mulishly, and I hurried to reassure her. â€Å"I’ll be fine. I promise. No walks in the woods. I’ll go directly from my apartment to my car with my gun drawn.† â€Å"We’ll pick you up,† she said. â€Å"It’s on the way.† I decided to let well enough alone. Jessie stood. Her shirt was really disgusting. â€Å"I’d loan you one of mine,† I said, â€Å"but I think you’d burst the seams.† She tilted her head. â€Å"Was that you being nice? Because you weren’t.† â€Å"Here.† Cadotte drew his T-shirt over his head and tossed it in her face. â€Å"Wear mine.† I couldn’t help but look. All that smooth, toned, tanned muscle should have made me drool. Instead I could only think of another man’s chest – one that was just as smooth, equally toned, but marble pale. Jessie glanced at me and sighed. â€Å"You’d better keep yourself covered, Cadotte. You might cause an accident on the road.† â€Å"No more than you will with a uniform shirt that looks like something out of Night of the Living Dead. Put the thing on and let’s go.† Will stalked out the door. Jessie shrugged and put on his shirt, which fit her pretty well. Smoothing her palms down the front, she rubbed her cheek against the neck, inhaling deeply. Her face went dreamy; then she saw me watching and stiffened. I smiled. They really were very sweet together. â€Å"We’ll be back in a few hours. Be here. And try to be in one piece, OK?† â€Å"I’ll do my best.† I waited until I heard the motor start; then I listened to the gravel crunch, the sound becoming softer and softer until it disappeared altogether. An instant later, I was out the door, gun drawn as I’d promised. I hurried downstairs and across the wide yard that separated the tavern from Damien’s cabin. The air was warm, the sky sunny – the kind of lazy day referred to as Indian summer; I’m not sure why. I knocked. No one answered. Damn. So much for afternoon delight. A glance at the tavern revealed a closed sign in the window. Maybe Damien was still asleep. Would he be mad if I let myself in? He was a guy. He wouldn’t care if I torched the place as long as I crawled in bed with him afterward. I tried the door. Open. How convenient. Stepping inside, I called his name. He didn’t answer. The room was dark. The bed tousled. I couldn’t see if he was in it. I crossed the short distance and laid my hand on the lump in the middle of the mattress. Nothing but pillows. Slowly I turned in a complete circle. I didn’t see him in the single living/dining/sleeping area. The door to the bathroom was open. I took a quick look-see inside. Empty. I had just decided to creep back out when the thunder of footsteps erupted on the porch. The door burst open and Damien stumbled inside. He was dressed as he’d been when I met him. Black pants, no shoes, no shirt. His chest was slick with sweat; his hair glistened. His skin was pale, and his eyes gleamed almost yellow. He appeared feverish. He slammed the door and leaned his back against it. Despite the sweat and the signs of exertion, he wasn’t even breathing hard. I drew my gun and hurried to the window. â€Å"Where are they?† â€Å"They?† â€Å"Who’s chasing you?† He gave me an odd glance. â€Å"I was jogging.† â€Å"In your bare feet?† â€Å"Yeah.† My eyes scanned the clearing, but no one, nothing, appeared. I set my gun on the table nearby. â€Å"Paranoid, Leigh?† â€Å"Actually, paranoid is my middle name.† His smile was weak, and that worried me even more than his pale, damp skin. I took one step toward him, and he crumpled to the floor. â€Å"Damien!† I went to my knees next to him. â€Å"What is it?† â€Å"I did too much. I’ll be OK.† â€Å"How long were you jogging?† He shook his head, didn’t answer. I put my palm to his forehead. He was cool to the touch. Nevertheless, I went into the bathroom and wet a cloth with cold water. You read "Night Creature: Hunter’s Moon Chapter 26" in category "Essay examples" Then I bathed his face, his neck, his chest. His heart pounded beneath his skin, far too fast for the ease of his breathing. He had me worried. He started to shiver. I wasn’t sure what to do, so I yanked the sheet off his bed and wrapped it around his shoulders; then I urged him forward, crawled behind him, and let him lean against me. Wrapping my arms around his middle, I rocked him until the chills went away and his heart rate leveled off. â€Å"Thanks,† he whispered. â€Å"It was hotter than I thought. I went farther than I should.† Holding him in my arms, comforting him as I’d once comforted little children, changed things. I recalled all I’d ever wanted – husband, home, family. Suddenly I wanted Damien, forever. My whole body tensed. I had to make this about sex again, so I ran my fingers through his damp, silky hair. His sigh was filled with pleasure. He turned his head and I gave him a kiss. He stiffened. â€Å"Shh,† I murmured against his mouth. â€Å"I’m all sweaty, Leigh. I smell.† â€Å"I don’t care.† He should know what I’d been wading in an hour ago – or not. â€Å"We’ll take a shower after.† â€Å"After?† I scooted out from behind him, knelt between his legs. Then I ran my tongue over his chest. He tasted great – like a hot summer night, sand, surf, energy. My mouth moved lower. The muscles of his stomach danced against my lips. I rubbed my face against the growing interest in his pants, then mouthed him through the black cotton. â€Å"OK,† he ground out. â€Å"Shower after.† â€Å"Glad you see things my way.† As I got to my feet I lost the boots, the knife. Walking to the bed, I lost the rest. By the time I was there, I was naked and so was he. I didn’t realize until I lay on the crumpled sheets that I’d bared my back to him without a thought. He stood next to the bed staring down at me. The expression in his eyes said he knew what that meant. I trusted him; I cared about him. I shouldn’t, couldn’t. But I did. I shot up like a jack-in-the-box and took him in my mouth, drew my teeth down his length, made him forget everything but now. This was just sex. It had to be. Once, oral sex had been more personal than intercourse. But nowadays it meant next to nothing. Thank you, Mr. President. Everyone did this, just about everywhere. I sucked Damien hard, felt him at the back of my throat. He groaned and the sound inspired me. I grabbed his hips and pumped him back and forth, but he wouldn’t let me make him come. His hands on my shoulders held me away; then he pressed me onto the bed and covered my body with his. In the state I’d coaxed him into I expected fast and furious. What I got was a slow, gentle embrace. He didn’t plunge into me. He didn’t enter me at all. Instead, he lay nestled between my legs as he ran his fingertips all over my face. â€Å"Damien,† I growled. † Shh,† he repeated. † Shh.† Then he kissed me, and he kept kissing me for a very, very long time. There’s an art to the kiss, one he’d studied well. I remembered necking in my boyfriend’s car – junior year, at the park. We’d done nothing but kiss, and I’d been so turned on I could hardly sit still. That’s what I felt like when Damien kissed me. As if I’d have an orgasm just from the flicker of his tongue along the edge of mine. I kissed him back, twined my fingers through his hair again, reveled in the taste of his mouth, the sensation of his skin, the scent of him and me together. By the time he slipped inside, I was so wet I hardly felt him, until he flexed and I cried out, nearly orgasming at his first thrust. â€Å"Look at me,† he said. â€Å"I want to see your eyes when you come.† I didn’t want to, but he stopped moving, and when I wiggled he pinned me to the mattress with his weight. My body screamed. I was on the edge of something wonderful, and all I had to do was open my eyes. So I did. What I saw in his made me go still. My heart thundered and my chest ached. He kissed me, long, lingering, and when he lifted his head a tear ran down my cheek. â€Å"I didn’t mean to make you cry,† he whispered. â€Å"Too late.† He licked away my tears as he had once before. I shuddered as my skin tingled from the contact. His breath brushed the wet trail, turning the tear track from hot to cold. He began to move, and as my body convulsed, so did his. We stared into each other’s eyes and we knew. This wasn’t just sex anymore. When it was over and the sweat on both our bodies had cooled, he rolled to the side, pulling me along with him. I started to get up, but he held on tight. I should leave, but having him near felt too good, too right. He kissed my forehead and he didn’t say a word. My dreams were back – the good ones where I had five kids, a ranch house in Topeka, and a husband who came home at six. Pathetic, but that’s what I’d always wanted. Since the day I’d received my first doll. The dreams were laughable in the face of my present life. I was a werewolf hunter. I bathed in blood. I baptized by fire. I survived through the gun and the knife. But that didn’t make my dreams any less real. Damien wasn’t the settling type – obviously. For reasons of his own he was a drifter and probably always would be. But when I closed my eyes I saw little blond girls and dark-headed boys frolicking on a lawn circled by a white picket fence. You see why I hadn’t allowed myself to have sex since Jimmy had died? For me sex was associated with love, commitment, a lifetime together. That’s the way I’d been brought up. The only time I’d veered away from that path I’d brought nothing but death and destruction to everyone I loved. Damien kissed my hair. I snuggled against his chest. What if I gave it all up and started over? I blinked at the thought, one I’d never had before. Since Hector my life had been focused on one thing and one thing only: killing the monsters, then dying. But dying didn’t hold much appeal anymore, and that had started when Damien walked into my world. I’d have to kill Hector first, of course. I couldn’t go back to a regular life when he was out there waiting for me. But once he was dead†¦ Anything was possible. How to cite Night Creature: Hunter’s Moon Chapter 26, Essay examples