Belmont Park Mini-Project
In this short project, we rode the Roller Coaster in Belmont Park and then sketched it out, wrote a poem, sketand created an art piece based on the coaster.
Here is the poem that I wrote:
Here is the poem that I wrote:
THE COASTER
Blue and white cars creak nervously as you jump inside.
Adrenaline pumping, the flutter in your stomach.
Pull the bar over your lap, smile at the friend behind you, white as a sheet and eyes wide with terror.
The cars jerk forward, slamming your head against the chair. Your teeth clatter as you plunge into a tunnel.
So dark, you can’t see the hand waving in front of your eyes.
So dark, you can’t tell the direction you are traveling.
A square of light, you hear your friend sigh in relief. (He is afraid of the dark.)
A long slope crawls into the sky above you.
A loud screech, you cover your ears, the cars lean backwards and up you go.
You friend is mumbling things, maybe a prayer, you can’t tell.
You can see the whole park, and the ocean next to you.
You’re on top of the world, and you wave to friends far below.
They call back, and wish you luck.
Suddenly, a dip.
Your stomach drops to your shoes, your friend gives out a shriek.
You’re falling.
The bar keeps you from flying out, but you hover an inch above the seat.
You’re falling.
The drop shifts, and you’re zooming off to the side so fast, the skin peels back on your face.
You head rocks in your skull with each bump.
You’re zooming up again, reaching the top of another hill.
For a second, all is still.
Your friend sighs.
Then down you plunge, swooping like a hawk locked on prey, tilting and jumping.
You scream, but out of joy.
The drops continue, and so do the turns.
You swirl and dance, holding on to the bar with all your strength.
You friend cries out every minute, but then, so do you.
It’s the closest you’ve ever been to flying.
A final bump, a last bit of adrenaline.
A white building appears, and in you go.
The cars creak to a stop.
You groan and lift the bar, massaging your throbbing knees.
Your voice is sore from screaming.
You turn around to see your friend.
His face is pale, he is leaning against the side of the seat.
He catches your stare, and after a moment of silence...
He smiles.
“ Let’s do that again.”
Blue and white cars creak nervously as you jump inside.
Adrenaline pumping, the flutter in your stomach.
Pull the bar over your lap, smile at the friend behind you, white as a sheet and eyes wide with terror.
The cars jerk forward, slamming your head against the chair. Your teeth clatter as you plunge into a tunnel.
So dark, you can’t see the hand waving in front of your eyes.
So dark, you can’t tell the direction you are traveling.
A square of light, you hear your friend sigh in relief. (He is afraid of the dark.)
A long slope crawls into the sky above you.
A loud screech, you cover your ears, the cars lean backwards and up you go.
You friend is mumbling things, maybe a prayer, you can’t tell.
You can see the whole park, and the ocean next to you.
You’re on top of the world, and you wave to friends far below.
They call back, and wish you luck.
Suddenly, a dip.
Your stomach drops to your shoes, your friend gives out a shriek.
You’re falling.
The bar keeps you from flying out, but you hover an inch above the seat.
You’re falling.
The drop shifts, and you’re zooming off to the side so fast, the skin peels back on your face.
You head rocks in your skull with each bump.
You’re zooming up again, reaching the top of another hill.
For a second, all is still.
Your friend sighs.
Then down you plunge, swooping like a hawk locked on prey, tilting and jumping.
You scream, but out of joy.
The drops continue, and so do the turns.
You swirl and dance, holding on to the bar with all your strength.
You friend cries out every minute, but then, so do you.
It’s the closest you’ve ever been to flying.
A final bump, a last bit of adrenaline.
A white building appears, and in you go.
The cars creak to a stop.
You groan and lift the bar, massaging your throbbing knees.
Your voice is sore from screaming.
You turn around to see your friend.
His face is pale, he is leaning against the side of the seat.
He catches your stare, and after a moment of silence...
He smiles.
“ Let’s do that again.”
This is the sketch of the coaster that my teammate Miguel created:
And this is the Art piece that teammate Macy created. It was supposed to incorporate both the sketch and the poem in it:
My group consisted of those two people and myself. The group as a whole worked well together. We didn't fight over roles, and we accomplished things in an orderly fashion.
The project was to create those three products and then present them to the class. While doing this, I learned that the best poems are made from taking your personal experience and making it slightly comical and descriptive. A boring poem makes people sleep.
In this project, a few things that went well were group communication and time management.
However, a struggle that we did have was organization. Our sketch was lost for a while, and found again a day or two before it was due. Very stressful.
My group and I worked well as a team, but individually, we got a little confused on why we were supposed to do. Luckily, were were all able to help each other out even on solo parts of the project.
If I could change this project, I would probably give us more time at the coaster, because it was so fun!