… the making of the tiger. William Blake was born in London in 1757 and died 1827. He was apprenticed to an engraver, but then he went into art and literature. When he was little he saw visions of God and angels. He wrote Poetical Sketches, which…

… itself. Each and every Australian has a unique perception of Australia, yet there is also a common awareness of Australia as a whole. The Australian identity also concerns the way Australians are viewed by other people. There are many different…

… swung freely across the top of shoes...I was loved. No price to pay, no strings attached, no care in the world; rich in all the things that really mattered plus knowing I was daddy's little girl. Oops Oops not my biological daddy but the only…

… One is writing for yourself, the type of writing that you do when your dad hits you or your girlfriend breaks up with you or you're trying to come to grips with the fact that you think you're gay. It's the kind of writing that you do for you, you're…

… "Cold in the Earth" by Emily Bront¸ the theme of love is clearly expressed in numerous ways and reflects one of the strongest human bonds. In "Sonnet 116", Shakespeare describes love in its most ideal form, as an eternal, everlasting bond between…

… Bees' written by James K. Baxter, the style he uses is distinctive from other poets and is very memorable. Baxter's poems contain a lot of imagery from nature. Most of his similes and metaphors come from something in the nature. This also one…

… In that statement, Robert Frost believes that the world will end in one of these two fates. Literally, fire could possibly end the world, for fire destroys. On the contrary, ice could end human existence as we know it; another ice age. That itself…

… if it’s a transgression I would rather burn in hell At least then it will be without choice that I suffer I could leave this treacherous place, Which makes me think of death And continue to a place of torture Yet I don’t know if there is such…

… to you leaving fast, as if you were a dart Dashing into the targot, sadly that was me Flying past the window like a bee. I never thought I'd see it coming. I'm still suffering the heartache you gave me. These are the thoughts that come to mind. …

… window Imagined forests still mingle With visions of what this could be for But maybe something will become a catalyst To change imagination into something solid I'll take this slowly like I've been told to do The snowfall outruns me like it's…