Ask yourself these questions as you examine each interpretation:
- Does this illustrate a clear understanding of the work as a whole and/or its characters, and how or how not?
- Does this contain an interpretation of the work and its themes rather than just a summary of its events?
- If there is an interpretation, how valid is it (meaning, is it supportable within the text of the novel)?
PAINTING AND ILLUSTRATION:
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DAISY BUCHANAN by Juliette G.
The ghost of a jazz melody, whispers of unsatisfied sighs
The moths running rampant amongst the champagne and stars
That pulsating frantic heat of a life so unbearably short
That pink saccharin suit
You thought my head was full of empty, my heart full of glee
I was never there, a green delusion of manic non-propriety
Young tragic soldier, eons passed in a glance, a brush of fingertips
The wink of a diamond, the seducing scent of eau de dollar
How I sobbed into those shirts
That awful inexpressible sentiment, falling fatally short of love
The man we left in the dust, blinded by sorrow and ash
The crumpled body, smeared blood and the fatal crash
My virgin doll’s hand on Tom’s smart suit arm
Blood only I could see, blinding me with regret
I was your fresh pure daisy
An innocent flower
But in the unbearable heat of that long summer,
RIVERS OF RED by Capri E.
Under the gaze of divine speculation,
I call out for my release.
Fleeting freedom from the valley of ashes,
Only a flicker to sustain a flame.
He pulls me past the gaze of God,
For days and nights of blissful sin.
I need him to use me, to love me, abuse me;
Ignited in passion that feeds and consumes me.
Rivers of red consumed by the ash,
A last breath of smoke confined to the past.
A heart of fire torn open, dreams come undone;
Vitality's lost, the void's battle won.
Rivers of red run dark in the street,
Where cobblestones, cinders, and eternity meet.
Yellow and red for one vivid moment.
And endless night follows dawn.
I beg for pain to justify existence;
A life without substance means nothing at all.
The shadow of someone who never existed,
The ghost of a man never loved.
I look through his empty, all-seeing eyes,
Finding nothing within, and everything beyond.
I long for release from this place of unfeeling,
Pushing past the ghost that's finally appeared.
Relentless fire, greed turned to debris.
Everything seen but no action taken,
The truth of The Dream embodied in ashes.
billows of smoke blinding a nation.
Rivers of red run dry after only a moment,
Yet crimson stains never fade.
Yellow and red, alight just for a moment,
And hollow existence continues in vain.