Question

It was in an empty lot

Answer 1

Answer:

It should be D, I'm am  100% sure but no other question seem to go that good. I think It's D.

Explanation:

It was in an empty lot

Ringed by elms and fir and honeysuckle.

Bill Corson was pitching in his buckskin jacket,

Chuck Keller, fat even as a boy, was on first,

His t-shirt riding up over his gut,

Ron O'Neill, Jim, Dennis, were talking it up

In the field, a blue sky above them

Tipped with cirrus.

And there I was,

Just off the plane and plopped in the middle

Of Williamsport, Pa. and a neighborhood game,

Unnatural and without any moves,

My notions of baseball and America

Growing fuzzier each time I whiffed.

So it was not impossible that I,

Banished to the outfield and daydreaming

Of water, or a hotel in the mountains,

Would suddenly find myself in the path

Of a ball stung by Joe Barone.

I watched it closing in

Clean and untouched, transfixed

By its easy arc before it hit

My forehead with a thud.

I fell back,

Dazed, clutching my brow,

Groaning, "Oh my shin, oh my shin,"

And everybody peeled away from me

And dropped from laughter, and there we were,

All of us writhing on the ground for one reason

Or another.

Someone said "shin" again,

There was a wild stamping of hands on the ground,

A kicking of feet, and the fit

Of laughter overtook me too,

And that was important, as important

As Joe Barone asking me how I was

Through his tears, picking me up

And dusting me off with hands like swatters, And though my head felt heavy,

I played on till dusk

Missing flies and pop-ups and grounders

And calling out in desperation things like

"Yours" and "take it," but doing all right,

Tugging at my cap in just the right way,

Crouching low, my feet set,

"Hum baby" sweetly on my lips.

—"How I Learned English,"

Gregory Djanikian

Write a short paragraph in which you evaluate what makes the poem effective and give your opinion of the poem overall.

Answer 2

Answer:

Getting late for a meeting, need to run’, he said, as he slung his coat over the shoulder, and bounded out of the house. As he drove away, she came running down the stairs two at a time. ‘Wait, wait’, she said, but he had already left. Her mouth crumpled like used wrapping paper. ‘He forgot to give me a goodbye kiss’, she whispered in a voice that trembled under the weight of her hurt. She called him, ‘you left without giving me a kiss’, she said accusingly. ‘I am sorry sweetheart’, he said, his voice contrite. ‘It is okay’, she said, trying to be all grown up as she cut the call. She gulped down her breakfast morosely, wore her shoes, picked up her school bag and started to walk out of the door, her shoulders slumped. As she climbed down the steps, the car glided to a stop outside the house. He got out of the car. She ran to him, her whole face lit up like a Christmas tree. ‘I am sorry I forgot’, he said, as he picked her up and hugged her. She said nothing. Her jaw ached from smiling. Fifteen years later, no one would remember he was late for a meeting, but a little girl would never ever forget that her father drove all the way back home just to kiss her goodbye!

Explanation: