From 2764ce38ff89667fc4073fb66cdd634caaffd613 Mon Sep 17 00:00:00 2001 From: Case Duckworth Date: Thu, 12 Mar 2015 13:01:16 -0700 Subject: Fix #9 - ekphrastisize some poems For ekphrastic articles, add `ekphrastic` node to YAML metadata. This node includes subnodes `image`, `title`, `alt`, `link`, and `class`. `image` provides a link to the local image--just include the file name with the extension, not the folder (all images should be in /img/.) `title` provides the title of the image, and the alt-text, if there is no `alt` node. `alt`, if it exists, provides the alt text for the image. `link`, if present, wraps the image in an `` tag--it should point to the source web page of the ekphrastic image. `class`, if present, sets the class(es) for the image, for styling. In this commit, I've set `ekphrastic` on the four articles that have them so far: 'The Death Zone,' 'AMBER alert,' 'The moon is gone,' and 'Man.' I've also updated .template.html with the changes, and updated README.md to reflect the changes in YAML structure. --- boar.html | 13 ++++++------- 1 file changed, 6 insertions(+), 7 deletions(-) (limited to 'boar.html') diff --git a/boar.html b/boar.html index fadbd55..152f0fe 100644 --- a/boar.html +++ b/boar.html @@ -37,13 +37,12 @@ -
-

Now the ticking clocks scare me.
The empty rooms, clock towers, belfries;
I am terrified by them all.

-

I really used to enjoy going to church,
singing in the choir, listening to the sermon.
Now the chairs squeal like dying pigs—

-

It was the boar that did it.
Fifteen feet from me that night
in the grass, rooting for God
knows what, finding me instead.

-

I ran, not knowing where or how,
not looking for his pursuit of me.
I ran to God’s front door, found
it locked, found the house empty

-

with a note saying, “Condemned.”

-
+ +

Now the ticking clocks scare me.
The empty rooms, clock towers, belfries;
I am terrified by them all.

+

I really used to enjoy going to church,
singing in the choir, listening to the sermon.
Now the chairs squeal like dying pigs—

+

It was the boar that did it.
Fifteen feet from me that night
in the grass, rooting for God
knows what, finding me instead.

+

I ran, not knowing where or how,
not looking for his pursuit of me.
I ran to God’s front door, found
it locked, found the house empty

+

with a note saying, “Condemned.”