We began our study of British literature last cycle, beginning with a unit on the Anglo-Saxon period. Our first text was Beowulf, an Anglo-Saxon epic, featuring the heroic Beowulf, who is something of a professional monster-hunter. A common device used in Anglo-Saxon poetry is the kenning, which is a compound word or phrase that replaces a noun. For instance, the epic contains a monster named Grendel, who terrorizes the mead-hall of Herot, stopping in each night for a (human) midnight snack. He is referred to as "the Almighty's enemy" and as a "sin-stained demon," possessing "hell-forged hands." The kennings are not only catchy, but they also illuminate his character and enhance the tone of the epic.
In our attempt to better understand the use of these "poetic synonyms," the seniors undertook a bit of a creative writing task, composing short poems in which they not only use kennings, but also reflect upon Grendel's motivation. Why does he do what he does? What is he thinking as he wreaks havoc? The students shared their poems with each other on the English 12 message board, on a thread called "Inside Grendel's Head." Here are a few peeks:
Songs of victory awoke the murderous monster,Bringing about a rage as old as time,The night-prowler kills with coward’s claws,Making warriors run from the giver of grief,The destroyer of hope,The dweller of darkness.Tori N.As the sky’s jewel begins its descent into its bed,The shadow-shrouded being awakens from his slumber,To the merry songs of those whose ale filled bellies will soon leave them naught.Silence overtakes the fools, who all fall victim to those poison-stained clawsThough their screams he cannot relish, their sweet life-nectar, he can.In the wake of his terror, he knows they will gasp in horrorAnd his smile will only grow widerfor the creature spun from darkness feasts upon their fear as well.Kimi A.Light's contradiction has risen from its deathonce more, the people fall to their slumber.In and out I live under the blanket of the moon.Grim reaper, son of the devil, dragging to his feast.Crimson gravy, the oxygen of the existence.Anger's outcome if you willthe hatred, the jealously, the reason of my being.What has become of me?Let the red-stained sea tell you about me... What I used to be.Christine G.Darkness fills the clouds-home,I quietly slip into the king’s-nest looking for beating hearts.Quickly snatching and smashing thirty men in their beds,I have quenched my thirst for human-juice.Back to my lair, tired from the night’s slaughterTomorrow brings a new day and more victims.Brooke Y.Awaiting the veil of darkness to blanket the sky,Not until then does the fearless monster from hell come out into the night.Helpless souls sleep soundly not knowing of the peril lurking.Beware of the blood-seeking demonfor he has untamed weapons of death that will rip you apart.He is merciless. He is hungry. He is the infamous Grendel.Flee while you can, don't be caught by the evil of the night.Taylor K.
These are the first of many poems we will compose this year. I look forward to sharing more with you!With loud music, laughter and cheers, the drunkards fuel the rage of the monster,Knowingly luring the beast to attack with only one consolation to his fury, their blood.Seeing the mead hall filled with newly arrived warriors, a great pleasure for the beast,Would lead him into a battle, excitement coursing through his veins like a flood.However, after fighting Beowulf, beholder of unwonted human strength,The monstrous fiend retreats to the swampy sanctuary with one less limb.Twelve years of bringing terror to the Danes, a seemingly never-ending nightmare,Abruptly put to an end, with the possibility of a second duel growing grim.Cambria T.I, the grinder of souls, will smother the creator’s seeds.They slumber while I eat.Their creator did not create me,I am a seed of fire and they are seeds of light.Do you see me now, the one they call Almighty?The pale fruits’ taste is unbeatablemaybe if I eat enough I can become almighty too.Ashley S.coming out of the shadows of the nightthe devil's descendent emergedrattled by the melodic sounds of menthe demon stirs restlessly, bloodthirstyonly till the party goers fall fast asleepwill the monster come out to eatsnatching and smashing anyone in sightpainting Herot with the red wine of his victimsSierra C.In the darkest depth, a ticking bomb slept.Above the surface was the clangor of men.Awakening the beast, stirring, ready for a crimson-colored retribution.In the darkness of night did God's forgotten creep.Slaughter without mercy, can anyone seeThe viscous pool of hate fill its insatiable appetite?Gorging on flesh and fear, the crunch of bones between his teeth,Drinking the blood of his Father's fools.Unstoppable he was, time and time againUntil the day one epic soul appeared.Mihye M.Upon nightfall, I arise bloodthirsty and determined
My empty stomach aches for the life of earth-walkers
I approach tonight’s dinner with complete eagerness to prey
My tongue’s-house fills with yearning-juice
As I plunge my teeth forward and drink the red-wine
My bloodshot eyes slowly droop with satisfaction of sustenancefor now…Baylie C.During the hour of darkness,I come out of the shadows and feast on people’s souls.While tearing the corpse with my powerful talons,I savor their delicate tissues.By drinking their cup of life,The melting of the candles makes me feel more alive.For I am the night that will steal your soul.Jennie R.The lonely-heart creeps out into the darkness at the hunting-hourHis never-ending hunt for the fabled warm-hearts continuesThe pain, of never having love, has killed his life-giverHis trail-finder struggling to find the one trail that mattersNeeding the warm-hearts to understand why he does what he doesWanting them to love himNeeding them to love himIrish H.Darkness has once again covered my stomach’s sustenance,For I will enter my feast to calm this never-ending absence.Gleefully grabbing hold of heaven’s delight,I get a sweet taste of my first bite.With these hands I will devour,And hear an enchanting tune in the hour.Entering heaven’s wide spread arms,I take the souls of God’s people.Courtney S.Why did they have the right to be happy,
while he had to shiver in a cave?
Hrothgar's men, Grendel,
Drunk fools together sleeping in peace,
A demon loathing the cover of night,
where no happiness could reach,
His soul-eating, love-needing heart.Adria P.