#3 (on bloggin')

Blogging (or bloggin' as spelled above) is hard work. No, I didn't have to go outside and pour concrete when it was a hundred degrees out (which I am definitely thankful for), but I did have to face an intellectual challenge. It is easy to get on websites like these to rant, or push a cause, or just become entirely self-absorbed. However, it is difficult to write well. I do not just mean to write gramatically correct, or with an interesting style. Those are basic skills that honed every year that you write. However, finding engaging topics that truly make readers, or, in this case, classmates, think is challenging. My creative mind is usually spent after my classes each week, so adding this blog as a requirement was difficult because I was already intellectually drained. However, I did find the blog to be a fun challenge at some points in the semester, especially when I was really intrigued by a certain aspect of something that we had discussed in class, and wanted to take my new knowledge to the next level. The blog provided a great outlet to connect my musical and poetic interests, which I enjoyed. Also, one of my favorite parts each week was reading what others had written. This allowed me to see the common themes and ask questions based on the new information that my classmates provided. I also feel that our class connected more because of the blog. We got to read much more of each other's writing, and got better glimpses into true personalities. So, even though there were times when I griped up a storm about these blog entries, I would be lying if I said that I didn't enjoy them. I am not sure if I will got through withdrawals until summer arrives, when I won't be insanely busy with all the other class requirements, but I will miss connecting with our class on here. This was definitely a great outlet that I am truly thankful for. Until next time blogosphere, I bid you adieu.

#2 (The Tyger)

The Tyger by William Blake

Tyger! Tyger! burning bright
In the forests of the night,
What immortal hand or eye
Could frame thy fearful symmetry?

In what distant deeps or skies
Burnt the fire of thine eyes?
On what wings dare he aspire?
What the hand, dare sieze the fire?

And what shoulder, & what art,
Could twist the sinews of thy heart?
And when thy heart began to beat,
What dread hand? & what dread feet?

What the hammer? what the chain?
In what furnace was thy brain?
What the anvil? what dread grasp
Dare its deadly terrors clasp?

When the stars threw down their spears,
And water'd heaven with their tears,
Did he smile his work to see?
Did he who made the Lamb make thee?

Tyger! Tyger! burning bright
In the forests of the night,
What immortal hand or eye
Dare frame thy fearful symmetry?

(http://www.poets.org/viewmedia.php/prmMID/15523)

This was the first poem that I memorized, which really isn't that momentous of an occasion, but I still greatly enjoy this poem. Now that I have memorized a ton of poems for my college classes, I can look back on this one and smile. Enjoy!

#1 (Absurdists, Confessions, and Martians! Oh my!)

So, I felt like I had journeyed to Oz after this class discussion. The unique viewpoints of both the absurdists and martian poets have the ability to make your head hurt, just because they look at all things in such a unique way. I had been introduced to these styles before, and remembered the Martian poem distinctly because I liked it so much. However, I still enjoyed hearing about these styles again. One of my all-time favorite genres of poetry is the confessional genre. In my last Creative Writing class, I did an in-depth study of a poem by Sharon Olds, who belongs to the neo-confessional category. I think that confessional poetry is such a beautiful expression because it is truth-based. It doesn't try to hide what emotions are really like in the human experience. Even though confessional poets have frequently experienced tragedy, their work does not deny the beauty of emotion on both ends of the spectrum, from despair to happiness. I would highly recommend work by Sharon Olds to read if you also enjoy the confessional genre. This was a great class discussion of these three forms that I thoroughly enjoyed. I look forward to being exposed to more poems in all of these genres in the future, since they are so set apart from the poem in its traditional sense.

#2 (The Daffodils)

The Daffodils by William Wordsworth

I wandered lonely as a cloud
That floats on high o'er vales and hills,
When all at once I saw a crowd,
A host, of golden daffodils;
Beside the lake, beneath the trees,
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.

Continuous as the stars that shine
And twinkle on the Milky Way,
They stretched in never-ending line
Along the margin of a bay:
Ten thousand saw I at a glance,
Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.

The waves beside them danced, but they
Out-did the sparkling leaves in glee:
A Poet could not but be gay,
In such a jocund company:
I gazed—and gazed—but little thought
What wealth the show to me had brought:

For oft, when on my couch I lie
In vacant or in pensive mood,
They flash upon that inward eye
Which is the bliss of solitude;
And then my heart with pleasure fills,
And dances with the daffodils.

(http://www.poets.org/viewmedia.php/prmMID/15925)

I decided to share this poem because it was one of the first poems that I ever studied back in middle school when I was first introduced to poetry. I think about this poem every spring, and think that it is a beautiful representation of the beauty that is a daffodil.

#1 (On revision...)

I've been thinking about revision a lot this week as I prepared my final workshop materials in preparation for my final project. The main revision that I would like to focus on is for "The ones who love you." I got a lot of comments on my revised draft that people loved the changes that I made, so that was great to see. Obviously, the most noticeable change was in the overall formatting. I kept the anaphora, but decided that establishing one instance and then either supporting or undermining that instance would be a more exciting engagement with the reader than the original one-liners. The hardest part for me came when establishing the rhythm and rhyme of the piece. I had some inherent in the first draft, and then was able to add some to the beginning of the second to make it a somewhat standardized pattern. However, I ran into issues when I liked the phrasing of some of the retorts later in the piece and couldn't rephrase them without sounding forced. After struggling with this for awhile, I decided to surrender the second draft as it was, with a rearranged form and an incomplete sound. In order for this poem to feel complete to me, I will need to either add the sounds where they are required or take all of the sounds out. This is all to say that I have definitely learned that the revision process is not something easily done. It is more akin to lions fighting over a scrap of meat, except both of the lions embody two opposing views of the writer, and the meat could be as small as a comma or as large as an entire poem. Either way, revision is brutal.

#1 (A Musical Elegy)

During the first time that I wasn't intently listening for an elegy in musical form, I managed to hear one. Flipping through my iTunes, I stumbled across "Angel" by Sarah McLachlan. This song simply sounds like an elegy, with its deep rises and falls in her voice, and the peaceful instrumental accompaniment. Of course, the lyrics also clue the listener in, especially with the repeated images of Heaven. I remember that this song always used to make me cry when I heard it on the radio. Very shortly after September 11th, I heard this song used as a backdrop for the famous words of the news stations and President during and after the events unfolded. The song became epic to me because it was used as a tribute to those lost in this tragedy. I know that many poems also became memorialized at this time for similar reasons. When writing my elegy, I found it very hard to pick the write words. I wanted to just splurt out whatever came to my head first when dealing with intense emotions, which, of course, would not have made an excellent poem. I think it is truly the most gifted poets, writers, and musicians that are capable of successfully writing such emotional pieces because they are able to express the emotion in a real way without hyperbolizing it. The talented expression of emotion makes "Angel" such a beautiful song.

#1 (August Rush and Prose Poems)

Sound is perhaps the strongest reason why I love poetry. I've talked about this before, and I'm not going to repeat myself now, other than stating the fact that I just watched the marvellous movie called August Rush, so music is on my brain. After our discussion of prose poems today, I kept thinking about why I liked them so much. They are such a unique form, and I have realized that you either love or hate them, as you could tell from the polarization of our class discussion. I loved how they embraced the quality of a narrative while still maintaining unique sounds in order to be classified as a poem. Now, I know it was refuted that even narrative poems have stanza structure applied to them, so why can't this form have some sort of structure as well? I think that the prose poem often looks like a block on the page because that is how the author wanted the thoughts to be heard. They are a lot more like thoughts when they are blurted out on a page, exposed to the reader exactly how they were envisioned, and this block creates unique opportunities for sound as well. In the final scene of August Rush, August performs his Rhapsody, which actually reminded me of a prose poem. It is a lengthy song, and sounds arbitrarily thrown together, but, in reality, each note was placed in the perfect position to tell the story. There is build-up, background noise, a fall, and a grand finale. This is just like a poem in many ways, and this is the best correlation that I can draw to illustrate just why I love this form and think that it is the most useful one that we have studied so far. Below is the cd version of August's Rhapsody, if you are interested in hearing what a prose poem sounds like in musical form.

#3 (Musical Rhyme and Poetic Connections)

So, I was listening to the latest hit on the radio featuring Justin Timberlake, and instead of mindlessly appreciating the beat throughout, I found myself commenting on the lyricism. This is not an atypical action for me, since I am such a music lover and I listen to way too many songs each day. However, this particular instance amused me greatly. I found myself judging the "goodness" of the respective rhymes in the song. Some slant rhymes surprised me, and I gave them a respectable nod, but others simply let me down because of their predictability. I have found myself doing this with poems too, especially in my own since I don't fancy myself to be that good at rhyme yet. I have realized that learning to obtain a good ear is critical to being able to write excellent poetry. This pertains whether or not the poem rhymes, because it needs to have a good sound overall in order to be widely accepted. Poetry has developed from being spoken and sung aloud. I think a very large part of me is attracted to poetry because of this intense musical connection. If I can learn to harness the sounds and arrange them beautifully, could I not master the true meaning of poetry?

#2 (Thoughts from a Reading...)

I attended a lovely fiction reading tonight. I went with no knowledge of the author or her works, and honestly wasn't even sure I would remember her name once I got there. I dragged a friend along, telling him how great the reading was sure to be, even though I really hadn't a clue. Maybe I brought him along because I wanted company while walking in the dark, but I think I had a feeling that what I told him would be true. After a personal introduction by a past professor of mine, she read a lovely story. I enjoyed the rich details throughout, and kept trying to commit them to memory to savor them later, but I failed at that valiant endeavor. Everyone clapped when it was over, maybe I clapped a little longer than most. Then, the questions began. Not being interested in writing fiction, and also loving my position as observer at the time, I remained silent. Then, she began speaking on the very reason why I had come to hear her that night. She spoke on endurance. My poetry was rejected twice in the previous week, and I was wondering if all of my efforts had been fruitless. I was wondering if I was any good at what I wanted to do. It was a very good thing that I went to the reading, not because she had a magical remedy for the sting of rejection, but because I learned a very important lesson. She reminded me that passion supercedes all else. This may seem like an extremely encompassing statement solely designed to give comfort to those who lack talent, but I disagree. Instead, passion inspires training, and training creates amazing results. I'm still learning to crawl in terms of my poetry training. Maybe I'm even still learning just to pull myself up and sway for a moment. However, as the writer reminded me, if you have passion for something, you'll keep working at it, and won't let anyone tell you that you can't do something. Rejection happens because there are too many applicants, but hopefully as I learn to walk my rejection will be less. All I know is that my passion for poetry is still strong, and that is why I will always continue to write.

#1 (Found From Facebook)

I brought in a conversation between myself and two of my friends from facebook for this class exercise. I should preface the original conversation by saying that my friends and I have a very interesting sense of humor and are quite nerdy. So, this started out as one friend wishing me happy birthday and became a recount of an entire adventure.

The Original Conversation:

Greg:
Do you remember the last time we celebrated your "20th" birthday, back in 1927 and Jillian was kidnapped by that mad scientist and you ended up having to crash land his zeppelin while I defused his "Energy Bomb"? Well, here's hoping this birthday is at least as eventful as that one. Happy birthday from your most delusional friend!

Me:
Haha I do remember this. I'm reminded every time I look into the portrait of us and see my own reflection penetrating my current persona! Jill still owes us for getting her out of that scrape!!! Unfortunately, my current existence requires that I work and attend classes today, but I shall still make my own adventure!!!

Greg:
I would expect nothing less, I mean not just anyone can crash land a zeppelin, I didn't even know it was possible....

Jill:
I owe you two NOTHING! I single handedly picked the lock on that stupid box Greg fell into when we were sprinting from the gendarme in Marseilles. I'm still dealing with the carpel tunnel consequences from that. Also, don't EVEN make me rehash Kristen's little incident in Rome that took me two months to smooth back over. Owe you. HA!

Greg:
I was, sort of, you know, hoping you had forgotten that whole box thing. Now Rome on the other hand, Jillian dearest, you just have to let some things go, it's not like we were ever going back to the Vatican through the proper entrance anyway....

Jill:
SHE BLEW... A HOLE... IN THE WALL!! Ancient paintings, precious vases... you can't replace those things! A little tact is all I'm asking for here.

Greg:
She had the best intentions, really, how else could we take out a fully manifested 9th Circle Pit Fiend? I agree she was youthfully overeager in her approach, but she has certainly calmed down since then. Remember Kathmandu, she only used five sticks of dynamite then....

Me:
It's not my fault that the chemical wasn't clearly labeled "combustible"! What do you expect me to do, Jill, actually read before I throw items at walls? The Vatican has way more money anyways... They can so replace it! I'll color some paint on a classic vase and no one else will know cept us and that annoying Holmes!

Greg:
Holmes found it quite the laugh, actually. He's just sore we beat him to it. Oh the looks on the Cardinal's faces when I gave them the itemized bill....

Jill: I couldn't believe that he actually TOOK the bill!

Greg: Well, really, what choice he have. And I don't remember you complaining about finally being able to afford our own airship....


Found Poem from class:

Found Adventures

I once crash landed a zepplin,
at least my most delusional friend convinced me so.
Kathmandu, Marseilles, the Vatican, Rome
"Dearest, you just have to let some things go,"
[My own reflection penetrates my current persona]
I'm still dealing with the carpal tunnel consequence
from single handedly picking the lock on that stupid box.
Ancient paintings, precious vases,
the chemical wasn't clearly labeled combustible!
Should I actually read before I throw items at walls?
Oh, the looks on the Cardinal's faces
when I gave them the itemized bill.
Finally able to afford our own airship,
getting her out of that scrape.
The last time we celebrated your "20th" birthday in 1927,
well, here's hoping this birthday is as eventful as that one!

#3 (Huzzah for the Ghazal!)

So, this ghazal form pretty much fascinates me. I haven't yet attempted to write one for myself, though I fully intend to. This definitely classifies as an intimidating form though. I think that I am most concerned with the ryhme scheme. I noticed that every example in the packet repeats the exact word to fulfill the "a" rhyme scheme that is required in every couplet. This approach definitely seems easier than attempting to insert a new rhyming word each time, especially if you are aiming to write a ghazal of any considerable length. I think that the repetition of the word would also contribute to the ghazal's musical quality. However, this repetition may also make it harder for each couplet to stand on its own since the goal would be to use the word in new ways each time, which may lean toward an inter-stanza dependency. I am also fascinated by the fact that the ghazal incorporates the author's name towards the end of the poem. I don't think that I could ever write a poem where it felt natural to insert "Kristen," but I do think that I could insert a nickname or something of the like. Of course, this would mean that I would either have to point this out or make it blatantly clear in the poem somehow. Overall, I think ghazals represent a challenging fascination to me and I am interested to see how they play out in my future.

#2 (A Birthday Sestina)

I also decided to post my sestina that I wrote for class to be critiqued this week as my free entry. Please let me know if you have any suggestions for improvement.


Sestina on Life

There once stood a tree.
It represented a life of freedom
from all the bad things, like drugs,
their cold sentence shaped like grapes
which were the same color as weeds,
so ironic since they couldn’t climb.

The best part of life is the climb.
When you were a kid, it was up a tree,
then life became entangled with weeds.
There is a pure element to the freedom,
like wine made from fresh grapes,
free of pesticides and drugs.

Kill your body and fill it with drugs
to watch your blood pressure climb.
Then go ingest a million grapes
to save your life, or plant a tree
and give the land back its freedom.
Light shines through the weeds.

Annoying people position themselves as weeds
do, right next to you, like a drug
that gets you high but never gives you freedom.
Vines can strangle and climb
up the trunk of the strongest tree
but they still support the grapes.

Raisins are yummy dried grapes
that are shriveled like a castaway weed
removed from the base of a tree.
If love is the best drug,
and life is the hardest climb,
then death must be true freedom.

So many never know freedom,
squished like rotten grapes,
bound tight until they learn to climb
out, over, away; run from the weeds.
Make sure to leave your drugs
behind. Bury them under a tree.

The strongest tree knows its freedom
away from the drugs of life, fresh like grapes
grown amongst weeds but still able to climb.

#1 (What's the deal with the sestina?)

I wanted to post about the very interesting (and admittedly frustrating) nature of the sestina. When I first read about this form in the packet, I immediately wrote it off. It was "too hard," as the whiner in me would say. I don't think that I even understood it completely until we discussed it in class. While I did find the examples in the packet to be awesome, I didn't think that a student poet like myself would be capable of producing comparable (or even adequate) work. I imagined that I would get completely stuck after a stanza or two and then the poem would either collapse upon itself or maybe even implode! This sounds dramatic, but it seems like most of us felt this way. After hearing the other student sestinas in class and writing one myself, I discovered that this form is not the complete horror that I suspected. Even though it is still difficult, it produces very interesting results that I do not think could have been created without the use of this form. However, the utter fear that I had before I was forced to tackle this form is something that I am curious about. Was I scared of the repetition in this form? We had already covered forms such as pantoums that had repeating structures, so this answer didn't make sense. Was it the sheer length of the poetic form? I had written poems in the past that were longer. Was it the "limitation" of only having to incorporate six distinct subjects throughout? This was definitely a new element to me, and although I was initially weary of this "limitation," I discovered that it really allowed for very interesting expansions about the subjects that I would not have thought of otherwise, so that proved to be a positive experience. In the end, I think that sestinas are kind've like vampires. They can be really scary, especially when you don't know them, but they might just turn into someone you love! (or at least they will if you're Bella...)

#2 (The Influence of Form)

So, I've discovered lately that I love the fact that we are learning so much about form this semester. I honestly never thought I would say those words, because I wanted to be one of those poets who is so awesome that form is just a limitation that they don't need to follow. However, as I delve deeper in my study of poetry, I have realized that no such poet really exists. Every poet uses form in some way, even if they create their own form. Berryman wrote consistantly in Dreamsongs, and Collins invented his own form (just like we did). Our study of form this semester has lead me to a greater understanding of poetry overall. Analyzing a form leads to an analysis of the main poetic structures, such as rhyme scheme, repetition, and meter. Thus, my poetic vocabulary has also increased. I have realized that I also subconciously absorb some of the tactics of the poets that I read. I notice this when I see inspired elements in my own writing. For example, in one of my poems, I parenthezied a line, which I have never done before, and I think I just remembered it from reading (picnic, lightning) in the quote prefacing Collin's poem. It is both scary and awesome that the poets that we read can directly influence our writing, but I think it has lead me to a greater understanding of just how important form is.

#1 (picnic, lightning)

"Picnic, Lightning" was my favorite poem from the collection by Billy Collins. I enjoyed the beginning quote that set up the poem, even before I knew the full context of it. Without knowing the context, it is simply an intriguing line that sets up the poem and captures the interest of the reader. It is a rather shocking quote. My main interest in this poem is because of the duplicity of the simple action and dramatic results. I think that the contrast throughout the poem is what brings it to life. In additon, I've lived in Florida, which is the state with the highest amount of deaths from lightning per year. So, I think I'm more aware of the intrinsic power of lightning than most. I like how the poem begins with almost fantastical images of sudden death, and then gradually moves to (literally) harvesting life. I love the very specific description of the garden, and I think that it helps the poem to end while focusing on the truly beautiful nature of life. I think that this was a great title for the whole collection because this one poem represents most of what is covered in all of the others. It encompasses the strange in the ordinary, and the magic that happens with life everyday.

#3 (The Possimpible)

I have decided that I need to learn how to master the possimpible. You may be asking yourself right now what the "possimpible" is, having never heard the term before. This term comes from Barney Stinson, a character on one of my favorite tv shows, How I Met Your Mother. He invents the term "possimpible" for his video resume, which details how awesome he truly is. He creates this word because he claims to transcend both the possible and impossible, which creates the possimpible. As he teaches one of the other characters how to make an equally awesome video resume, he explains that inventing words is a key way to getting hired. I'm not sure if this would work in real life during a job search, but it did get me thinking about word choice in poetry. We have been working this week with villanelles, which is a form in which word choice is key because of the rhyming structure. As we did the exercise in class in which we created rhymes for one word, I discovered just how difficult it can be to choose a word that fits the requirements of both rhyming and logical sense. When putting together rhymes for a villanelle, one of the greatest challenges is to avoid sounding cheesy. Straight rhymes on simple, one syllable words often create a sing song effect that should only be heard in Kindergarten. However, I think, upon mastering the rhyme structure of a villanelle, that this could be a very powerful form. I need to keep practicing branching away from the simple rhymes into more complex slanted rhymes. I also know that we often create new words in poetry, and I think some interesting combinations can be used to help the rhymes along in a villanelle. Once the rhymes have mastered, I think I can claim to have truly mastered the possimipible.

#2 (The Randomized Sonnet)

This is the experiment with a poetry anthology, using random lines to form a sonnet.

Here are the random lines that I flipped to:

Such the maiden gem
Three years she grew in sun and shower
If by dull rhymes our English must be chained
Do not go gentle into that good night
Like a convalescent, I took the hand
The squirrel bounced down a branch
once their fruit is picked
Talking in bed ought to be easiest
calm is the morn without a sound
I kenning through astronomy divine
Thy nobler part, which but to name
Beyond a mortal man impassioned fear
And we, that make merry in the Room
These and all else were to me the same as they are to you
They sing their dearest songs
Woman much missed, how you call to me, call to me
The river's tent is broken: the last fingers of leaf
Whose converted smile of hours and days, suppose
Happiness that, bursting, leaves upon the palm
Our lines avoided tragedy


The Randomized Sonnet

Three years she grew in sun and shower,
such the maiden gem,
Woman much missed, how you call to me, call to me.
Like a convalescent, I took the hand.
(talking in bed ought to be easiest)
These and all else were to me the same as they are to you
And we, that make merry in the Room-
beyond a mortal man impassioned fear.
Thy nobler part, which but to name.
I kenning through astronomy divine.
Whose converted smile of hours and days, suppose
do not go gentle into that good night.

If by dull rhymes our English must be chained,
our lines avoid tragedy.

#1 (A Syllabic Pantoum)

So, most of the pantoums that we have studied in class have a decent amount of syllables per line, usually considered an average count when compared with long lines that extend past the length of a standard page and those short lines that only have a couple syllables. I chose to accept my mission of writing a pantoum with only a few syllables in the syllable count. Keeping the pantoum a standard syllable count, especially a short one, proved to be quite difficult. This was mostly because the flexibilty of the lines was highly restricted. When I had to repeat a line, it was very difficult to change it in any way in order for the line to make sense in comparison with the other lines of that stanza. Also, the subject of the poem had to be quite simplistic, and very few dramatic turns could be initiated. I don't think that I would ever choose to write a syllabic panoum again, but this was an interesting experiment.

Sylabbic Pantoum

The red sky
bleeds tonight.
Under the ground,
the mole hides.

Bleed tonight-
remember
the mole hides
until dawn.

Remember
the black sky,
until dawn
rises up.

The black sky
dies but it
rises up
every day.

And it dies
under the ground
every day:
the red sky.

#2 (free sonnet)

Induction

The deep green lawn chair

is my car seat today.

It tips in the curves unless

you center your weight.

Everyone says it's

clearly not safe.

There is no seatbelt,

nothing to tether you.

The brakes are slamming

on purpose this time.

I may fly scared out of my seat,

but the surrounding laughter calms me.

Today was the day of my induction-

the loved tradition of the family van.

This is an initial stab at a sonnet structure. Please let me know if you have any suggestions for improvement. I am currently contemplating making every line ten syllables, since several lines already meet that requirement and it would create a more unified look for the poem, but I struggle because I enjoy some of the line breaks that are currently in place. I actually had the most trouble with the last line, because I wanted something that would help the summary and yet express the importance of the event. Again, suggestions are greatly appreciated.

#1 (sonnets is the name of the game)

So, sonnets is the name of the game. The name of the game is sonnets.

After discussing sonnets in two of my classes this week, I can finally admit that I have gotten over my fear of them. The first time that I was exposed to sonnets in high school, I think that my teacher prided himself on terrifying us with them. I always thought that they were extremely rigid and didn't understand a lick more about them than the prescribed rules that I could recite by rote. So, when moving past the fourteen lines, distinct rhyme scheme, and stanza structure, I can now actually think about the content of sonnets. I always thought that sonnets could only talk about love in the mushy sort of way, mostly because the sonnets that were presented to me were written that way. Reading contemporary sonnets for the first time, I was blown away by the possibilities that could exist within a mere fourteen lines! I had never thought that the Shakespearean structure could yield three points concluded with the "therefore reasoning" in the final couplet. There is so much power in the couplet! Two little lines can either summarize, expand, or completely discount the lines previous. With the Italian structure, I can use the distinct 8/6 split to establish an idea and then contradict it, list a general principle and then specify, or present an argument and then illustrate it, and these aren't even all of the possibilities! My brain is overflowing with ideas- none of which are mushy or love-related. It is true that sonnets are suited for an intensity of feeling, but this feeling can encompass any of the human emotions. I find this freedom refreshing and I realize that I am actually looking forward to writing a sonnet for class next week.

I'm glad that sonnets is the name of the game.

#2 (Howe's themes)

In The Good Thief, Marie Howe employs a wide variety of themes. Perhaps the most common, because of its encompassing nature, is religion. In her poems, she both alludes to and directly mentions Christianity. A lamb is a central figure, representative of Jesus, the Lamb of God. Many poems have Scriptures directly mentioned underneath their title. Other titles directly reference significant Biblical figures, such as Mary, Issac, and Eve. I was concerned about this abundance of religious references at first, merely because I had never read so many in such a short collection before. I feared that the references could take away from her own talent of writing, but in fact they greatly enrich it. Although Biblical context can seem an overwhelmingly huge topic, Howe successfully breaks it down and directly and uses it in conjunction with her own writing. I applaud her work and think that it is a sign that she has mastered the craft that she can tackle subjects that others would avoid. This is also present in some of the other themes, when she mentions family relations that can sometimes be glossed over, such as an abusive father and an invisible mother. Overall, it is Howe's mastery of a wide variety of complex themes that allow her work in The Good Thief to be so successful.

#1 (couplets)

I was interested in learning more about the variety of couplets that exist. Our stanza packet really only discussed the heroic couplet. I decided to pick the couplet as the form to study more because it seemed like a basic form that could be appended to others. As such, knowledge of this form is perhaps the most crucial. Below is more detail on some varieties of couplets, and all credit is due to this website: http://www.uni.edu/~gotera/CraftOfPoetry/couplet.html Note that the meter is really the distinguishing factor between the couplet types, and that they are used for various purposes.


Short Couplet- iambic or trochaic tetrameter. From Maxine Kumin's "Morning Swim"

Into my empty head there come
a cotton beach, a dock wherefrom

I set out, oily and nude
through mist in oily solitude.

Split Couplet- the first line in iambic pentameter, the second in iambic dimeter. From Richard Steere's "On a Sea-Storm Nigh the Coast"

The weighty seas are rowled from the deeps
In mighty heaps,
And from the rocks' foundations do arise
To kiss the skies.

Heroic Couplet- two lines of iambic pentameter, also the last two lines of the English sonnet. From Richard Steere's "On a Sea-Storm Nigh the Coast"

Wave after wave in hills each other crowds,
As if the deeps resolved to storm the clouds.

Alexandrine Couplet- an alexandrine is a line of iambic hexameter, so an alexandrine couplet is two rhymed lines of such. These often come at the end of stanzas or poems and, in these cases, are also called codas.

Qasida- an Arabic form consisting of any number of lines all rhyming on the same rhyme.

#2 (states)

States

Salt smells seep through my clothes,
as my memory goes to the beach.

Fresh air fills my nose,
as my mind goes to the old farm,
where land stretches as far as eyes see.

Hearts and eyes are hurting
as my feet pound the city streets,
where needles and switchblades litter
every walkway, life, and home.

The train blares my senses,
as my penny smushes,
and I remember the swingset
my father built on his own,
standing still at my childhood home.

Just four states make my memory.


This poem initially sought to answer the question of "What would it be like if you had to move to a new state every year?" However, when I set out to write it, I could only draw upon my own experiences. Thus, the states (per stanza) are Florida, Ohio, Georgia, and Tennessee. These are every state that I have lived in. I think it is very interesting how I wrote about states, especially since I concentrated only on my own lived memories, which is usually the case for amateur poets. I also unintenionally added a line to each stanza. After I noticed the pattern, I simply continued it throughout the poem, attempting to add a visually pleasing element, with the addition of the conclusive last line.

#1 (my favorite stanza)

Picking a stanza to identify as my favorite isn't an easy task. This is not because I hate all stanza structure, but rather because stanza structures vary so much, depending on the unique nature of the poem. It is important to remember that, no matter what stanza structure is my favorite, a stanza structure is imposed after a poem is written, not before. This being said, I have noticed that my favorite stanza structure is a quatrain. I think it is largely because there are so many rhyme schemes that can be buried within it. These varying rhyme schemes allow for great potential that my poems can be formed into. Also, the quatrain tends to look most physically pleasing on the page, especially in the classical sense of a structured poem. The quatrain allows for numerous expansions and a beautiful structure for poetry.

#3 (a beautiful picture)

So, when asked to pick a beautiful picture (just one), I found the task to be more daunting than I originally expected. This is not because I don't think anything is beautiful, but because I think too much is beautiful. I have realized that I am constantly in awe of the world and its beauty, and picking one picture to analyze just doesn't seem to do it justice. So, this being said, I chose to analyze this picture because of its natural beauty, and I realize that this beauty would be described differently by each person viewing it. I'm not a photographer, but I would imagine that my photographer friends would surely comment on the angle or lighting of the picture (or perhaps other more detailed elements that I know not of). Needless to say, I don't see this when I view this picture. I see grass, water, and Sun. Yet, somehow this simple summary does this picture no justice. The beauty lies within the contrasting elements. I enjoy the three stark stages of grass, water, and then Sun. They seem to embody the transition between land, sea, and air. The colors of the scene highlight the inherent beauty quite literally, with orange hues illuminating the background and the exquisite and intrinisic shadow at the forefront. The Sun is what allows the transitions of the scene to truly show and the beauty to arise. In addition to the simple visual attractions of this work, I think it is beautiful because it seems to represent to me that there is hope. It can be seen as a highly symbolic photo about overcoming darkness, or life's journey into the Sun, or the sky. This beautiful picture can be interpreted in a thousand different ways based on the individual personality of the viewer, but I think that very few would ever interpret this as ugly. They say that "beauty is in the eye of the beholder" for a reason, but sometimes beauty can even surpass viewpoints. (Credit to Jillian Moomaw for this picture.)

#2 (free)

Places I want to go/ Things I want to write about:

India/ riding an elephant, the jungle
Central African Republic/ poverty, how to find hope, smiles
Kenya/ recovering from war
Uganda/ children soldiers
Budapest, Hungary/ my ancestry
Rome, Italy/ innovations ahead of history
Juneau, Alaska/ sleddogs
California/ surfing and tattoos
Chile/ mountains
Amazon Rainforest/ life in a forest, nature, animals
Vietnam/ rice
Tokyo, Japan/ technology, lights
Israel/ Jesus, faith, journeys
Egypt/ pyramids, market trade
Istanbul, Turkey/ art, architecture

I know this is a very sporadic and random list, but I feel that it never hurts to dream. This list is by no means finished, I would love to see every part of the world if I could. Realizing that this would be hard, and that a certain amount of time in one place is required in order to truly appreciate it, I have compiled this elementary collection. You will notice that most of these places are not typical tourist destinations. This is because I do not long to go to a location that is designed for visitors. I want to go somewhere that presents a unique point of view. I want to write about the people that live there and their experiences and learn from them. Currently, my poetry really only expresses my personal experiences from the United States. Leaving the country and learning about new cultures would be truly eye-opening and would definitely allow me to create many very interesting poems.

#1 (a rebel yell needs to know what it's screaming at!)

So, in class today I was told that this Intermediate Creative Writing class would be studying the forms of poetry and that we would write a poem each week in one of these forms. To those of you less familiar with poetry, you are probably wondering what is wrong with this statement. After all, it makes common sense, right? However, my professor last semester spent most of his time metaphorically beating the form out of my poems. My first submissions were usually returned with the comment "you sound like you are 200 hundred years old." Now, I had never really studied poetry prior to last semester, so I assumed that all poetry had a distinct ending rhyme scheme and a general structure that had to be followed. So, after being told that a strict end rhyme was not necessary, I am now being taught to learn it again? You can imagine why my first reaction to the news today was an instinctive kicking and screaming. However, upon reflection, I am quite excited about studying the forms. I was never given formal training on them, so most of the time I just winged it. My high school education pretty much glossed over the specifics- poetry wasn't considered nearly as important as the novel. So, even though my poems started out with a strict rhyme scheme and sometimes other boring elements as well, I relish the idea of actually studying where the elements come from and how they could be used in a set form. I may not be the most excited person about having to write in those forms, but I am excited about finally understanding the history of poetry, basically. Studying how poems have evolved over time will allow me to put these techniques into practice in my own poems, free verse or not. So, even though Ezra Pound insists on "Make it new," or defying the canonical tradition with free verse, the understanding of the traditions will allow me to fully appreciate the freedom I currently take for granted.

#1 (more than you ever wanted to know about me!)

Hi world! (well, at the very least, greetings to my Creative Writing class!) The one thing that I have always hated about introductions is that you never know where to begin. I usually decide to condense the divide between a detailed entire life story and a one sentence blurb with my name and major, so I will continue to employ this technique here. So, my name is Kristen and I am currently nineteen years old and a Senior at the University of West Georgia. (yes, you read that right.) I first started at West Georgia at the age of fifteen as a member of the Advanced Academy of Georgia. After spending two years here undecided in my major and finishing high school at the same time, I went on to continue study at Georgia Tech for an Electrical Engineering degree. I also spent two summers interning at NASA's Kennedy Space Center for their IT department. After saying this, I imagine you are extremely confused as to why I am in this creative writing class. Well, after a mostly miserable year of study at Tech, I decided to take a year off of school in order to learn what the real world was like and to get a better sense of who I was and what I wanted do in this life. When my journey concluded, I decided to return to West Georgia as the English major that you see today. I returned this past fall and also became a Resident Assistant at the University Suites. My life's journey so far has taken me to many unique places that allow me to draft many unique poems. Thus, I say all that I do about my past not to brag or boast but to create a sense of understanding for my readers and classmates today. In general, I am a smiling young adult with a grand sense of adventure and a strong heart for God. You will usually see me humming a tune because my passion for music is just as strong as my passion for writing. I will respond to almost any name, but most of my friends who call me by a nickname call me NASA. I am looking forward to this class as a means of expanding my creative writing potential and learning more than I could currently imagine. Until next time...