Not My Best Side Essay

Fanthrope’s poem is divided into to three separate parts as the points of view of the three different characters. The first part is told fromà ¯Ã‚ ¿Ã‚ ½9 the dragon (or â€Å"the monster†)’s point of view, here the author used personification, providing the dragon with feelings and an opinion of his own, therefore giving him human-like features; he’s feeling a bit cantankerous towards the artist who painted him given that he didn’t give him a chance to pose properly thus only portraying his ‘bad’ side. Furthermore, he’s saddened by the thought that the other characters aren’t taking him seriously, he generates the idea that the fact that his â€Å"victim† (the girl) only holds him by a flimsy string is a way of emasculating him or taking away his pride in a way. The second part in the perspective of the girl being rescued and in this case, the author gives it a bit of a twist because the reader would normally expect the girl to want to be saved from the horrible monster, but she doesn’t! In fact, she’s actually mad at the knight for trying to save her because she was enjoying the dragon’s company; instead of being terrified of the monster she finds him â€Å"nicely physical and sexy† Finally, she doubts the credibility and attractiveness of the knight and says she prefers the dragon. The last part of the poem is from the standpoint of the knight who’s stabbing the dragon and trying and save the princess in danger. He feels offended that the princess doesn’t want to be saved by him even though he has diplomas in â€Å"Dragon Management and Virgin Reclamation†, his horse is the latest model and he has all the newest, safest and coolest artillery and armour. Windows of wonderment (My own version of Not My Best Side) Part 1- I still wait for him everyday. Mother holds me up against the cold hard window pane while I stare infinitely into the open space in front of me. I gaze upon our driveway hoping to see his car drive in, to hear the soft clacking of his shoes, the gentle wheezing of his breath or the breezy tone of his words. Mother sighs and looks away while a single tear trickles down her left cheek; I pretend not to notice whilst she hastily wipes it away and lets out a tiny sniffle. Everyday I purposely put together excuses, explanations, to reason his agonizing absence; I foolishly blame myself, my poor mother and yet every time I regrettably come to the same conclusion, it’s not our fault. By now, I know I should know better but I still have hope, that someday he’ll come back to us, someday I’ll see have face again, his deep blue eyes and his smooth silk-like skin, but until he does I’ll just repeat the same excruciating ritual of waiting, waiting and forever wondering. Part 2- I still hold him up against the window. I know I shouldn’t, and it will only make everything worst but I still do. Every time, his little face lights up and that constant frown that lingers upon his face seams to disappear. Just for a few seconds, his hope is restored, as he stares out to the unknown. I can see his mind drifting off, the wheels in his head turning, trying to come up with any and every possible explanation for his father’s absence, but it’s when he’s smacked across the face by the bitter truth of reality that his expression abruptly changes back to what it was, and the only words circling his mind are â€Å"he’s not coming†. I know I should protect him from such pain and suffering, but what’s a pitiable mother to do when her permanently scarred son keeps reaching out for the affection of that devil-like brute he calls his father? It’s not fair on him, or me. The dream of a normal life is lost alongside with hope, trust and belief. This is the pain of abandonment that leaves an innocent child hopelessly enduring pain and suffering, waiting, waiting and forever wondering.