since I'm not sure what to write about today I guess I'll ask the class for some suggestion. No one will answer of course, since this blog is so individualized (is that the right word, I'm not sure, but who cares since I can practically write whatever I want to :) ). I'm working on this poem and I'm not sure where to take it next:
Title: This is kinda for a no one
Dear Johne,
I know you’ve been watching me
Because I’ve been watching you
I think it’s time to stop, now
Stop looking out the window
For a tomorrow that will never come
Why don’t you ease yourself into
Your cold bed and settle in
Between your lonesome sheets, hmm?
Don’t wait for me to kiss your clammy
Forehead. Just kiss your hands and sing
Yourself a lullaby close your
Eyes and whisper my name
“God’s never been closer to you”
Dear Johne,
You’ve been walking with death in front
Of your toes and life behind your heels.
You’re frown has never been as deep.
I want to be God in the poem, but I'm not sure how to make this clear without stating: I'M GOD. Maybe just having it up with give me the motivation I need to finish it.
Sunday, February 7, 2010
Saturday, February 6, 2010
Another love poem
So, I know there have been poems about love and this poem is no different. I know there have been poems about both aspects of love, the good and the bad. This is another on about the bad. This poem is an attack on love itself. This poem is angry...like all my other poems. I use the word "bitch" to describe not only the opinion "love is a bitch" but as a re-frame that happens through out the poem. I don't know if this poem will be effective. This poem is a fragment of a poem I wrote in the past and revised. I found it among some of my documents and wanted to complete it.
This is as far as I got.
Bitch,
Yea…you,
Breathing out your lies,
Twisting up hearts with your brutal hands,
Bitch,
I trusted you
Gave into you
Like fools often do,
I gave in and gave up me
And here you are,
You bitch
Yea…raise your hand
Strike me down,
Rape my body
You bitch
Don’t like it,
Do you?
Being called a bitch
I cried, every time I watched
my motherfucking father
Raise his hand
Crushing my mother’s beauty
With pain and distress,
punished on her face,
All because you
Bitch.
And here,
You are with me,
Turning the most
Beautiful man I ever saw
into an animal with a fist,
a fist against my face,
And laugh,
You…bitch.
Is it funny I can’t leave him,
Because you have me bounded down,
Hoping in the impossibility
That he will change, he can change.
I dont really know how I'm going to finish it, but I hope I'm able to do so soon.
This is as far as I got.
Bitch,
Yea…you,
Breathing out your lies,
Twisting up hearts with your brutal hands,
Bitch,
I trusted you
Gave into you
Like fools often do,
I gave in and gave up me
And here you are,
You bitch
Yea…raise your hand
Strike me down,
Rape my body
You bitch
Don’t like it,
Do you?
Being called a bitch
I cried, every time I watched
my motherfucking father
Raise his hand
Crushing my mother’s beauty
With pain and distress,
punished on her face,
All because you
Bitch.
And here,
You are with me,
Turning the most
Beautiful man I ever saw
into an animal with a fist,
a fist against my face,
And laugh,
You…bitch.
Is it funny I can’t leave him,
Because you have me bounded down,
Hoping in the impossibility
That he will change, he can change.
I dont really know how I'm going to finish it, but I hope I'm able to do so soon.
Tuesday, February 2, 2010
Re: ruts
It's easy to feel the way Chesney describes when writing sometimes - that you're in a rut, writing about the same things over and over again. For me personally, it's especially apt to happen when writing poetry, as it's still the genre I'm least comfortable with writing and there are subjects I'm not sure I could do justice in poetic form.
One thing I like to try when I feel a rut coming on is to take a piece and "translate" it from one genre to another. Writing a short story or essay idea as a poem is an interesting experience. I think taking fiction or nonfiction into the poetic form sensitizes you to considerations of word choice and significance. Dead, ineffective verbiage that might slip under your radar when it's written in paragraphs as prose can become glaring when you write it as lines of poetry instead. Poetry can also encourage you to be succinct, and leave out passages that aren't necessary to tell the story/make your point/what-have-you.
That said, writing about the same thing for a while doesn't always signify a rut. It might just be a subject that's especially fertile for you creatively. If you're still finding new things to say about it and not repeating yourself, there's really no need to stress out about changing topics.
Hope this is semi-helpfullish. I'm going to go shave, see everybody at workshop.
One thing I like to try when I feel a rut coming on is to take a piece and "translate" it from one genre to another. Writing a short story or essay idea as a poem is an interesting experience. I think taking fiction or nonfiction into the poetic form sensitizes you to considerations of word choice and significance. Dead, ineffective verbiage that might slip under your radar when it's written in paragraphs as prose can become glaring when you write it as lines of poetry instead. Poetry can also encourage you to be succinct, and leave out passages that aren't necessary to tell the story/make your point/what-have-you.
That said, writing about the same thing for a while doesn't always signify a rut. It might just be a subject that's especially fertile for you creatively. If you're still finding new things to say about it and not repeating yourself, there's really no need to stress out about changing topics.
Hope this is semi-helpfullish. I'm going to go shave, see everybody at workshop.
Monday, February 1, 2010
blogblogblog
Since our last workshop class I have been wondering about the question of why it is that we write at all. It seems as if all our classmates have different motives for writing-some do it to convey their anger, to express feelings on love, to make some sort of observations or statement on the condition of the world, and some do it because they like the way words sound when put together in a certain way (now, I am wildly generalizing here). This doesn't just have to do with our classmates, it has to do with all writers, what is it that motivates us to write? Is it to illicit a sharing of feelings? Do we want to use ourselves as vectors to allow others to feel? And will we be able to achieve this over the course of a semester? Maybe, or maybe at least touch upon it-get slight glimpses of what we strive for in writing to get that spark going in us. I think Chesney had a good point in her blog about trying to write about subjects she isn't exactly comfortable with yet. We should all do that, because isn't that what keeps writing interesting for us?
And how are we going to get it all out there? I'm really excited for the class we're about to have (in 15 minutes, yikes), because I feel like amateur writing can get lost in the cracks so easily, leaving people discouraged, and with no venue through which to publish their writing so that it can be seen. Even if I don't use it to "publish" my own poetry, I know I'd really like to use the skills of creating a book in the future.
And how are we going to get it all out there? I'm really excited for the class we're about to have (in 15 minutes, yikes), because I feel like amateur writing can get lost in the cracks so easily, leaving people discouraged, and with no venue through which to publish their writing so that it can be seen. Even if I don't use it to "publish" my own poetry, I know I'd really like to use the skills of creating a book in the future.
I don't know about you guys...
But I haven't until fairly recently ever thought of myself as "a writer." In fact, it wasn't until other people, mainly friends and professors, started giving me this title that I really thought about whether or not I might fit the writer "mold", so to speak. I have always been someone who enjoys playing around with language and experimenting with different orders of words. Likewise, I have always gotten a kick out of trying to deduce which combination of these words is actually capable of inspiring absolute beauty. That being said, I don't really know if I have hit the mark on that "absolute beauty" bit, but, nevertheless, the goal is one I think ties into the question I would like to pose in this blog entry.
What exactly are the qualities that make someone a writer -- and better yet -- what are the qualities that make someone a good writer?
Is it writing prolifically? Putting together a sentence which is rhythmically, metaphorically, and logically spellbinding? Or is it all a matter of opinion, as many argue is the case with all art forms?
I'd love to hear everyone's feedback!
What exactly are the qualities that make someone a writer -- and better yet -- what are the qualities that make someone a good writer?
Is it writing prolifically? Putting together a sentence which is rhythmically, metaphorically, and logically spellbinding? Or is it all a matter of opinion, as many argue is the case with all art forms?
I'd love to hear everyone's feedback!
Workshop #2
Hey Guys! I really enjoyed reading everyone's poems last week. Not having any guidlines for the workshop poems made each peom uniquely different. I hope that I will be able to contibute to a wide varity of different styles and themes in my own poems. I have a hard time escaping from writing poems about love. Recently I feel like I am stuck in a rut because my poem for this week is also about romance. I am not very witty or savy when it comes to writing about current events. I am always afraid of mentioning something that someone might get affended by. However, for next weeks workshop I am going to take a chance. If I embarras myself, then I can at least know I tried to write a poem that inculdes issues other then romance. I want my next poem to have to do with an issue that everyone deals with and is anything but love, falling in love and romance. If anyone has any ideas, please let me know.
Ps. I hope Im not the only one that is having this type of issue.
Ps. I hope Im not the only one that is having this type of issue.
Synesthesia
Hey class, for this week's blog post I decided to share a few snippets on the phenomenon known as synesthesia. According to Wikipedia, synesthesia is a neurologically-based condition in which stimulation of one sensory or cognitive pathway leads to automatic, involuntary experiences in a second sensory or cognitive pathway.
Basically, this means that two of your senses are mingled in some fashion. People who are genetically predisposed to this condition are described as congenital synesthetes, while others who develop synesthesia through psychedelic drug use, stroke, or some other way are described as adventitious synesthetes.
I myself have a moderate case of synesthesia, wherein single digit numbers (and 10) are always associated with specific colors. For instance, the number "9" always appears olive green in my mind's eye, while "1" is white, "10" is gold, "4" is blue, "2" is red, and so forth. Synesthesia is common in poetry and some easy examples might be "I tasted the clouds" or "I heard the grass". Each describes a sense organ experiencing a stimulus that it can't normally detect.
The French poets Arthur Rimbaud and Charles Baudelaire wrote of synesthetic experience but there is no hard evidence to prove they were synesthetes themselves. The linked poem is a poem by Rimbaud in which he explores this experience of synesthesia.
"Vowels" by Arthur Rimbaud
Basically, this means that two of your senses are mingled in some fashion. People who are genetically predisposed to this condition are described as congenital synesthetes, while others who develop synesthesia through psychedelic drug use, stroke, or some other way are described as adventitious synesthetes.
I myself have a moderate case of synesthesia, wherein single digit numbers (and 10) are always associated with specific colors. For instance, the number "9" always appears olive green in my mind's eye, while "1" is white, "10" is gold, "4" is blue, "2" is red, and so forth. Synesthesia is common in poetry and some easy examples might be "I tasted the clouds" or "I heard the grass". Each describes a sense organ experiencing a stimulus that it can't normally detect.
The French poets Arthur Rimbaud and Charles Baudelaire wrote of synesthetic experience but there is no hard evidence to prove they were synesthetes themselves. The linked poem is a poem by Rimbaud in which he explores this experience of synesthesia.
"Vowels" by Arthur Rimbaud
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