In the chapter on style, I began to wonder what my style is like in writing. I have never written much outside of required papers for classes. Thinking about this has made me question if I will ever be able to write respectable poetry. While I enjoy learning about the intricacies of poetry and its formation, I can't shake the feeling of inadequacy when I try to form a piece beyond meaningless lines.
The majority of poetry I have read and enjoy is set up in the play and epic format, the ones that tell a great story. I value concise and direct answers in most of my dealings, but I ironically cannot seem to apply those values to my poetry writing. I know it is far too early to give up or any of that nonsense, but this is how I feel. I mean my younger sister already had a few pieces published before she was out of high school! Thinking about style does make me look forward to when we begin to delve into prose. There are many author's styles that I really enjoy and hope to fuse with my writing to form something innovative.
Saturday, February 5, 2011
Reading Response#3
In chapter 3 of our reading from Writing Poetry, the poem by Ai, and subsequent discussion, really struck me as fascinating. In my leisure reading I always look for how well the author is able shape and form others voices and personalities, especially of the opposite sex. To me, achieving this feat well is the pinnacle of writing.
Sadly, I have rarely tried to speak from a female perspective. I feel there are many other areas that I must improve in my writing before I begin to work on taking radically different voices. How well Ai is able to present a misogynistic, abusive husband is incredible. I feel bad admitting that I have actually met more than one person who is similar to the man in Ai’s piece. It is definitely a piece I will return to when I decide to try and take on a different gender in my writing.
Classmate Response #3- Danita Pope's "silly random write"
Numbers scatter
stopping points matter
on long green tables
pushing woods of maple
earth forms of white
push solids and stripes
in shirtless pockets
from elbow sockets
Very cool! Though I am missing the meaning behind your lines, you have some excellent rhyme happening. For me, I feel like you best chance at expanding is to cut the first stanza and only use the second. I can almost start to form a visual in my head from your second stanza. Your last lines, " push solids and stripes/ in shirt(less) pockets/ from elbow sockets" makes me think of a flannel shirt( I am partial to them!). So taking a cue from Jen and her prompt for this week, I have expanded on this last stanza.
stopping points matter
on long green tables
pushing woods of maple
earth forms of white
push solids and stripes
in shirtless pockets
from elbow sockets
Very cool! Though I am missing the meaning behind your lines, you have some excellent rhyme happening. For me, I feel like you best chance at expanding is to cut the first stanza and only use the second. I can almost start to form a visual in my head from your second stanza. Your last lines, " push solids and stripes/ in shirt(less) pockets/ from elbow sockets" makes me think of a flannel shirt( I am partial to them!). So taking a cue from Jen and her prompt for this week, I have expanded on this last stanza.
Flannel shirts formed from the earth of white. I always enjoyed the push solids and stripes. They hang just perfectly so from my torso. And in the winter, there is none better. I only wish I could wear them all the time, up until the time I die. But I imagine I will still have one on, though actually shirtless in my spirit form. I will still be able to imagine, how the pockets felt from my elbow sockets.
Ha, it is fairly silly but I hope it will help. Great job and good luck!
Random Impulse- Irish rifting
Italian whips whip Irish whelps. Irish whelps whisper with wisdom of worldly wonders. Wonders wave and crash and ebb and flow with wicked intentions. Intentions that imitate the impossible, improbable, Irish. Irish whelps that don't know freedom. The crown that holds them back. Irish car bombs create change out of the IRA. But worldly wonders will awaken all. In all awakened, what will happen?
Junkyard- Week 3
I've decided the rest of my junkyard this week will be devoted to the works of one of my favorite authors: Bret Easton Ellis.
"I had all the characteristics of a human being—flesh, blood, skin, hair—but my depersonalization was so intense, had gone so deep, that my normal ability to feel compassion had been eradicated, the victim of a slow, purposeful erasure. I was simply imitating reality, a rough resemblance of a human being, with only a dim corner of my mind functioning"- American Psycho
"A great numb feeling washes over me as I let go of the past and look forward to the future. Pretend to be a vampire. I don't really need to pretend, because it's who I am, an emotional vampire. I've just come to expect it. Vampires are real. That I was born this way. That I feed off of other people's real emotions. Search for this night's prey. Who will it be?"- The Rules of Attraction
"Hip," I murmur, remembering last night, how I lost it completely in a stall at Nell's---my mouth foaming, all I could think about were insects, lots of insects, and running at pigeons, foaming at the mouth and running at pigeons."- American Psycho
"When we sat down to eat I took inventory of the people in the room, and the remnants of my good mood evaporated when I realized how very little I had in common with them – the career dads, the responsible and diligent moms – and I was soon filled with dread and loneliness. I locked in on the smug feeling of superiority that married couples give off and that permeated the air – the shared assumptions, the sweet and contented apathy, it all lingered everywhere – despite the absence in the room of anyone single at which to aim this."- Lunar Park
Why did I choose these? Well, one of the things that I enjoy so much about Ellis' work is his beautiful and vivid descriptions of things generally considered ugly. His exploration of the decadence and spiritual bankruptcy of over-privileged Americans is poignant and clear. But the ability for the reader to relate to the characters is truly remarkable. Though I can't fully relate to any of his characters, I can relate with the majority of their experiences. Reading Ellis' work helps remind me of the time in my past when I was lost, and I feel my past holds many stories worth writing about.
"I had all the characteristics of a human being—flesh, blood, skin, hair—but my depersonalization was so intense, had gone so deep, that my normal ability to feel compassion had been eradicated, the victim of a slow, purposeful erasure. I was simply imitating reality, a rough resemblance of a human being, with only a dim corner of my mind functioning"- American Psycho
"A great numb feeling washes over me as I let go of the past and look forward to the future. Pretend to be a vampire. I don't really need to pretend, because it's who I am, an emotional vampire. I've just come to expect it. Vampires are real. That I was born this way. That I feed off of other people's real emotions. Search for this night's prey. Who will it be?"- The Rules of Attraction
"Hip," I murmur, remembering last night, how I lost it completely in a stall at Nell's---my mouth foaming, all I could think about were insects, lots of insects, and running at pigeons, foaming at the mouth and running at pigeons."- American Psycho
"When we sat down to eat I took inventory of the people in the room, and the remnants of my good mood evaporated when I realized how very little I had in common with them – the career dads, the responsible and diligent moms – and I was soon filled with dread and loneliness. I locked in on the smug feeling of superiority that married couples give off and that permeated the air – the shared assumptions, the sweet and contented apathy, it all lingered everywhere – despite the absence in the room of anyone single at which to aim this."- Lunar Park
Why did I choose these? Well, one of the things that I enjoy so much about Ellis' work is his beautiful and vivid descriptions of things generally considered ugly. His exploration of the decadence and spiritual bankruptcy of over-privileged Americans is poignant and clear. But the ability for the reader to relate to the characters is truly remarkable. Though I can't fully relate to any of his characters, I can relate with the majority of their experiences. Reading Ellis' work helps remind me of the time in my past when I was lost, and I feel my past holds many stories worth writing about.
Thursday, February 3, 2011
Junkyard- Week 3
Your silver grin, still it sticking in.-Bush
This line has always stuck into me since I first viewed An American Werewolf in Paris. Its visual effect and emotional attachment are too much for me to not post!
This line has always stuck into me since I first viewed An American Werewolf in Paris. Its visual effect and emotional attachment are too much for me to not post!
Random Impulse- Sublime rifting
I really enjoyed this assignment from class, I think it has been the most helpful thusfar, I feel it really captures more of my full thought process:
Rift on Sublime
To be sublime is to be aware. To be aware anywhere. Anywhere one can be sublime. Or one's Third Eye can be Blind(ha). Blind is what is not sublime, blind is an unseeing third eye. One blind eye is better than three. But three is where I wish to be. Beside you, with all my eyes, that would be sublime. On the docks fully aware of the way your hair is not blind, but sublime. Anywhere, anywhere, anyone, anyhow, anytime, any place, any plane, one can be sublime. One in line of one long line of lyrical logic. Like leprechauns leaping like lemurs lapping liquid LSD. One can be sublime.
Rift on Sublime
To be sublime is to be aware. To be aware anywhere. Anywhere one can be sublime. Or one's Third Eye can be Blind(ha). Blind is what is not sublime, blind is an unseeing third eye. One blind eye is better than three. But three is where I wish to be. Beside you, with all my eyes, that would be sublime. On the docks fully aware of the way your hair is not blind, but sublime. Anywhere, anywhere, anyone, anyhow, anytime, any place, any plane, one can be sublime. One in line of one long line of lyrical logic. Like leprechauns leaping like lemurs lapping liquid LSD. One can be sublime.
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