Tuesday, 16 September 2014

Traditional vs Contemperary Poetry



Traditional poetry is more strict in its form. The sonnet, ode, blank verse, ballad, dramatic monologue each have formal elements that poets follow. Traditional poetry mostly sound dramatic and use elements that most likely to address feelings and a simple hand gesture. Traditional poetry sound more angelic and covered up with 'veils', 'haze' and 'shinning light of heaven' lines. This type of poems or poetry can be religious and provocative. Traditional poetry ca never be simple even though it is about a simple matter. Traditional poetry would make it sound difficult and twisted but yet it can be sound so heavenly. Traditional Poetry literary work in which special intensity is given to the expression of feelings and ideas by the use of distinctive style and rhythm, with a focus on aesthetics. This is also referred to as "Verse."





Contemporary poetry is most often written in free verse (unrhymed lines). Their lines follow by the natural rhythms of the language and not the strict five stresses per line in iambic pentameter. Contemporary poetry is written in language that is accessible to the common reader. Contemporary poetry mostly speak freely and does not use old words like in the traditional poetry. contemporary poetry are more likely to be and sound free and more straight forward. Their arrangement seems like falling from stairs. Their word can be meaning as anything. Modern Poetry: written or spoken language in its ordinary form, without metrical structure, rhyme or aesthetic embellishment, such as in newspaper articles, literature, and etc.



Medical Historian





Henry  E. Sigerist was born in Paris in the year 1891, April 17th in France and continued growing up in Paris. He then studied in the University of Zurich and oriental languages at University College and Kings College in London. Then he went back to Zurich to complete a medical degree and serve as a medical offcer in an Swiss army. Sigerist taught the history of medicine at the University of Zurich until 1925, when, at the precocious age of 34, he succeeded Sudhoff as director of the Leipzig Institute. In 1932, Sigerist moved to the United States to succeed William Henry Welch as director of the Johns Hopkins University Institute of the History of Medicine. Sigerist wrote a book called The Great Doctor which he successfully published it in English, the book was widely read. He also has an history in conflicting thoughts bout the socialized medicine and that what drawn him to attacked the American Medical association. Sigerist became deeply
 involved in medical politics and the campaign for national health insurance and his contributions 
toward medical care reform in the United States.

He died in the year of 1957.




John Freind was born in Croton or also know as Croughton, in the year 1679 in John's father's hometown. John has young brother, Robert Freind.

He choose medicine for his profession, he early began to write on medical topics, and invariably employed the Latin language. In 1704 he was appointed to deliver at the Ashmolean Museum in Oxford some lectures on chemistry, which were largely attended, and published some years later (1709). In the next year (1705) he accompanied the Earl of Peterborough in his brilliant campaign in Spain, as physician to the English forces, and remained there about two years. He then visited Italy, where he became personally acquainted with Baglivi and Lancisi and other celebrated physicians of the day, and returned to England in 1707. Here he at once plunged into politics, and published two books in defence of Lord Peterborough's conduct in Spain, which brought him into considerable public notice as a keen partisan. In 1709 he married Anne, the eldest daughter of Thomas Morice, esq., then paymaster of the forces in Portugal, who survived him, and died in 1737. He had by her an only son, John, who died unmarried in 1750. In around the year 1720s John Freind was well known for his discovery on vaccination for smallpox in the early sixteenth century in Europe. It was indeed in the sixteenth century, London wasn't healthy, clean and smallpox was the ultimate killer for most f the London's resident.

He died in 1728.



Sir William Osler was know as the Father of Modern Medicine. He was a bibliophile, author, historian and to add it all was a joker. he was born in the year 1849 on 12th of July. he was one of the four founder of John Hopkins Hospital. His great-grandfather as a pirate and his father on a ship at Falmouth, Cornwall, also was a former navy that once serve on HMS Victory. William;s mother was a religious woman. William start to give interest in medical science since 1867 and so he entered Trinity College, Toronto. His highest contribution towards medication was actually his method of insisting student to learn not just base on what they read but by interact with patient and talking to them. He was the one who create the idea of bringing student outside instead of sitting all day long in the lecture hall. h brought out the students and start to teach them some clinical training.

He died in the year 1919, 29th December.

Tuesday, 9 September 2014

Ransom

Before I close my eyes
When they were open wide
I look to a corner and picture it
Picture how he would come

Come for my soul
Come for my last breath
Come for my surrender
Come for me when I least expected

He was there
Not in the corner
But sitting next to me
In his best clothes

Tip top tie
Silk grey shirt
Perfectly taylor black suit
And a red hankerchief on his left chest

He lean back a little and gave me a smile
Nodded a little bit
Gave his right hand to me
Offer a dance and left that red hankerchief at my spot

With no words or sound, he left, with me in his hand...

Friday, 5 September 2014

Haunted

Everyone got something
Something that they kept inside
Those deep dark secrets that nobody
I meant nobody ever knew

We all does
It's just the matter of time
Till it it decided to spill out
Till someone decided to open up

Well I have
I still do
It haunted me
Day, night, sleep, awake

It never leave me
Even when the ground decide to swallow me
Even when I have nothing left
It will still haunted

Not being wanted
Not being accept
Not being loved
Not being desired

Thats what being haunted me all along

Lost

I'm going to distance
There is a place in my mind
Where there is you waiting for me there
But when I reach there it is empty

So I turn around and found another path
That path was new
But somehow it felt like home
Its like those roads you took as a shortcut to reach home       

I knew it so well that I did not stop
I walk and walk and walk till my feet they worn out

And I'm too tired to continued

So I stop and close my eyes and took a deep breath and hold it

In hoping that it'll woke me up from this dream
This endless dream
But nothing happen
I'm still there, stuck in the middle of nowhere

Once again I'm lost.