More Poetry Fun

For my creative writing class, we have to thumb through our text book, Poets of the New Century, and select different poets whose work we are drawn to and really like, and write one page (single-spaced, size 12 Times New Roman font) responses that analyze the pieces and describe why you are drawn to them.

One of the poets who really struck me was Billy Collins. There are five of his pieces in the anthology, all of them so wonderful that, if it were practical, I would post them all for you. Instead, I will just post one, Genius, and then give you links to the rest to read at your leisure.

Genius

is standing by the stove in a bathrobe
stirring the soup with a long wooden spoon.

Earlier in the afternoon he was busy
in the margins of a heavy book

and tonight he will step inside a molecule
or wade into the deep pool of calculus.

But now there is only the pot of vegetable soup,
the circling of the spoon,

the easy rotation of the wrist
and the aroma of onion, bay, and rosemary -

just the kind of moment when a brainstorm
might roll in over the ridge of the valley.

Not when you are holding your head in your hands,
but when you are cutting carrots,

troweling soil into a clay pot,
or washing a glass in the sink,

You look up and see a cloud in the window,
and then there is only you,

the glass underwater, and the cloud -
now clearly in the shape of an astonishing idea.

The rest of the poems are as follows:
The Country, a lovely poem of a mouse and his interactions with a match.
Absence, an anthropomorphic look at chess pieces.
Velocity, the thoughts of a wannabe journalist
and Today, a perfect spring day with a twist.

My Latest Assignment for ENG 307

For my ENG 307 class (Creative Writing II with Kevin Stein, the IL Poet Laureate!!) we were assigned to follow Jim Simmerman's "Twenty Little Poetry Projects" to create our own poem, using Simmerman's poem "Moon Go Away, I Don't Love You No More" as an example. I really liked mine, so I posted it for all to read. Enjoy.

Remembrance With a Cup of Tea

Laughter is the music of wind chimes
wafting in the breeze of the solstice morning.

A laughter so rotund, so robust it cannot squeeze
out the French doors to your backyard patio and Gerber daisy garden.
Their magenta petals glisten in the morning dew, spewing
rosy pinches of light into the air of daybreak.

Air that feels soft like the cotton that
fills your mouth when you’re nervous,
similar to the unbearable terror that you felt
in Mrs. Vandernaald-Johnson’s speech class
when you still lived in Muscatine.

Mr. Macabobby not Mrs. Vandernaald-Johnson.

The books in the family library sat
gathering inches of dander-filled dust
overlooked by the “overpaid, worthless, bumbling” maid, Juanita
much to the dismay of my rich, unappreciative
proverbial, cackling evil step-mother.

The very same who refused to allow
any of us to let our freak flags fly,
her personality dry due
to repeated bleaching of her naturally mousy hair.

I would build my house out of chocolate
if I lived in Alaska and got out of this place
my younger sister would tell me each time “the witch”
would press the immense desert of our patience.

We were as happy as a freshly stubbed toe in that house,
so we drifted out into the night air,
quietly floating above the clouds,
amongst the stars that tasted sweet like sugar granules.

Missy Lou and her sister
starring as Peter Pan and Wendy Darling:

We know that growing up is something
only the foolish do in their spare time.

On nights it rained, the puncturing droplets
poked holes in our imaginations in the midst of our dreams
of a candy-coated wonderland. The sugary sweet aroma
sliding into our nostrils and straight down to our stomachs
filling us more than a Thanksgiving meal.

Our thoughts would have another day to wait so our souls could rest.

Tu ausencia me devora entero el corazón---
screams embraced us with bony arms
while the portraits on the walls covered their ears,
shifting their gaze the other way

The achromatic a cappella raining down on us,
flooding out the burgeoning gardens of our thoughts.

Warning: If you are a guy and easily creeped out by women discussing "that time of the month," turn back now!

I came upon this treasure the other day, thanks to an away message one of my friends from school had up. Not only do I find it highly amazing and hysterical, but it is also very true.

How did anyone in their right mind think that the slogan "Have a Happy Period" was a good idea? I mean maybe in theory, and at first glance, it does sound like a wonderful, positive slogan and not the "moronic message on a maxi pad" as Ms. Aarons so claims. I suppose it seems logical for a company to want their clients to be happy using their products, but you would think that since the company deals with the menstrual cycle they would take extra care.

But then again if Proctor and Gamble (the company who manufactures Always Maxipads_ is run by Alan G. Lafley: Chairman, President, and CEO, James R. Stengel:Executive, Jorge P. Montoya: Executive, Clayton C. Daley, Jr.: Vice Chairman, Bruce L. Byrnes: Vice Chairman, and the sole woman (FINALLY) Susan E. Arnold: Global Business President, it's no wonder they don't realize that their slogan is completely worthless. And with how sexist corporate America is, it barely matters that Susan is the Global Business President. What do you think the odds really are that she supported "Have a Happy Period" and that it wasn't then men who decided this slogan was great and didn't listen to her two cents on the issue?

Oh if I could've been a fly on the wall during that pitch...

They Were Here First

I Don't Know by Justin Nozuka

All the rhythm in my soul is gone... I'm in trouble
With so much worry on my mind
And lost.. can't find the way to go
I don't know
Left or right, or up or down
In or out or do I turn around
I don't know
But this is killing me
Is this the way that it's supposed to be
I feel like I am going crazy
This is not me
I may be here tomorrow
But I don't know
I don't know
I may be here tomorrow
Who knows
I don't know
I'm feeling so down, down, down, down
that I'm way under the ground
yeah yeah yeah
said im feeling so down, down, down, down
That i'm way under the ground
That i'm way under the ground
Let that cloud of rain come over my head
And pour all over me
Purify my body, spirit and mind
I never meant it to turn out like this
I'm a mess with no way out of this loneliness
No way, see I've walked through every single doorway
No way, I've driven down every single highway
No way, I'm swimming through the oceans, rivers, lakes and bays
There's no way
Oh I've tried his way and her way and my way
There's still no way
I may be here tomorrow, but I don't know
I don't know
I may be here tomorrow, but who knows
See I don't know because
I've been feeling so down, so down
That I'm way under the ground
See see, I'm way under the ground
I'm feeling so down, down, down, down, down
I'm way under the ground (I'm way under the ground)
Oh so when the sun comes up I'll still be down
Because I still ain't got nobody here around
To lift me off my hands and knees
I'm begging mercy, mercy, mercy
When the moon comes up I'll still be down
Because I still ain't got nobody else around
To lift me off my hands and knees
I'm screaming mercy, mercy
Oh I may be here tomorrow
But I don't know
See I don't know, I don't know, I don't know, I don't know
I may be here tomorrow
But I don't know
I don't know

I find this song to be absolutely wonderful. I honestly can't stop listening to it, and it definitely reminds me of when I listened to Imogen Heap's Hide and Seek on constant repeat this summer.

...which I have just put on and am loving it.

The power of music is incredible.

To Dissuade Flug Frying Pans...

I just read a wonderful article (and by wonderful I mean surprisingly accurate and funny).

Give it a spin and see what you think. I know that I definitely go berserk when a guy tells me to relax when I am worked up. The one that always, always gets me, however, is #3: "It's up to you."

Seriously? It doesn't matter to me whether the other half of this conversation is male or female, when someone tells me this I honestly feel like they want me to choose simply because of their laziness. Is knocking out one possibility that achingly difficult?

I'd argue to the contrary.

I'd feel much better and secure about choosing if I have at least the tiniest bit of input from the other party. I like making sure everyone is included so there is no harboring of resentment for not eating something they wanted.

People do tend to do this sometimes, you know.

So watch out. Here's your fair warning never to tell me "It's up to you."

Fresh Beginning

I already have gone through every type of blog imaginable it seems: Xanga, Myspace (if you even include that), Livejournal...

What's amazing to me is that it is hard to even tell who is reading things about you on the internet, yet somehow I am still compelled to blog away anyway.

The fact that none of this will ever be permanently erased and will forever be able in public access surprisingly doesn't bother me.

Perhaps it's the fact that I don't find myself or my random outbursts of thought too exciting, though, yes, amusing.

Regardless, here I am. Starting over again. I don't promise anything spectacular, but at least I am going to give it a shot and actually blog correctly. Not just FOR three specific people under the guise of a blog (when its really more like an off-kilter e-mail of sorts), but for the general public. I will post things that happen to me, happen around me, happen to other people that amuse me. That's the plan.

Let's hope this works. Now cross your fingers, clasp hands, and get ready to jump!

...is your heart beating quickly with adrenaline yet?