And speaking of poetry...

I had to write a poem for school this week. I much prefer reading it to writing it. {I suspect a lot of people do.}
The poem was supposed to be a dramatization. But, I found out that I am not very good at dramatizations at all. Happily though, I was allowed to write infree verse! Which, to me, is preferable over trying to rhyme and fit everything into a meter.
I spent most of the week wondering what in the world I was going to write about, and finally last night I penned this:

My mind
and this piece of paper
are kindred spirits
undeniably.
We lay and think
blank thoughts. Both with
wrinkled brows.
Eyes wide open;
neither blinking nor seeing.

So I sit. I stare and
the paper stares right back.
Who will win this contest? I wonder
if he or I will cave in first.
Who will crack, showing signs
of life and lose
this
uninspired
staring
game.

Not a dramatization, but thankfully my "teacher" is laid-back. {Goodness, I love homeschooling!}
My littler brother's only comment after reading it was: "Why doesn't it rhyme?!?"
Obviously he did not appreciate my attempt at imitating such poets as Carl Sandburg and William Carlos Williams. Ah, well. :P

Poetry and Me!

I used to think that I hated poetry.
I mean, everyone else hated poetry! What was up with this whole analyzation thing? And I had read a volume of Robert Frost's poems for school that I didn't enjoy. Sooo... I must hate poetry.

Which is idiotic logic. {Especially since I loved Shakespeare's plays and had read all his sonnets. *rolls eyes* I also loved various humourous poetry, such as Lewis Carroll and Shel Silverstein.}

I realized later, you can't just read one poet's work and decide you don't like poetry. That would be like reading a book, not liking it, and saying "I hate all books!" No, you just don't like that author.

So, there I was. Convinced I hated poetry. My brother, who also hates poetry, was complaining about this book of poetry he had to read for school. He especially disliked one poet in particular, Carl Sandburg.


I don't remember exactly how this came about but I ended up reading one of his poems titled I Sang:

I sang to you and the moon
But only the moon remembers.
I sang
O reckless free-hearted
free-throated rythms,
Even the moon remembers them
And is kind to me.

Being an offbeat kind of girl, I liked the fact that it didn't rhyme or follow a strong meter. {Obviously, I was not familiar with the term "free verse".}
"Hey, I like this!" I said joyfully to my brother.
He just rolled his eyes and said, "You would."

Since then, I have kept an open heart to poetry. I have discovered many new poets I love and enjoy. {Though you still won't find me analyzing poetry!! I am content to see in it what I want to see in it. Overanalyzation gets ridiculous!}

Now, I am saddened when I hear people say they hate poetry. Obviously, they haven't found the right poet for them. They have no idea what a wonderful thing they're missing!

Stream of consciousness.

It is the sad songs that make me think of you, which is strange since you make me so happy.*


That was a {true} thought that occurred to me as I sat on my couch listening to sad songs. I typed it into a blank blogspot post so I wouldn't forget it, which is something I often do. And I meant to save it as a draft but... accidentally hit "publish post". I quickly tried to get rid of it, but the damage had been done. *sighs* Sometimes, I worry about myself.

So, I thought, why not just make a blogpost telling everyone how absentminded I can be?

I didn't know why not, so here I am.

How is everyone? I could just be talking to empty air, but I sincerely hope not.

I don't know why I don't do conversational posts more often. Of course, I'm not sure why people would want to hear me rambling... but rambling is something I excel at! And well, it is good to use our talents. :P

I watched You've Got Mail last night. Oh goodness, I love that movie so much! {"Don't you love New York in the fall? It makes me want to buy school supplies. I would send you a bouquet of newly sharpened pencils if I knew your name and address."}

I am reading a book called Miss Buncle's Book by D. E. Stevenson. It's about a middle-aged spinster who decides to write a book about the people she knows in her small village. It's shaping up to be very good!

And, at the moment, I am listening to Miranda Lee Richards since I recently bought her album Light of X. {Love this song!}


So, anyhow, I shall stop now. But first, what have you been watching/reading/listening to?



*n.b. - this was not a sappy Taylor Swift-esque inspired thought. It was actually inspired by a dear friend of mine. :)

the boy with the camera.

To them I am "the boy with the camera" .
Goodnaturedly, they laugh and tease -
Asking me if I 'ever part with it? Do I take it off when I sleep?'

I shrug and smile at their jokes cause I know they wouldn't understand,
that I'm happier viewing their world through my camera lens.

I need my camera to hide behind so no one sees the real me.
And the simple shades of black, white, and grey put me at my ease.

Many people pose for me, I forget them after a while.
Except that girl with the laughing eyes and tantalizing smile!
I wish she wouldn't haunt my dreams every single night
With long black hair, smart grey dress and skin so very white...



{My note: I have no idea what inspired me to write this. Also, it wasn't supposed to be a poem but it kind of worked out that way, hehe. So, please pardon the shaky rhymes.}


{Photo of: Ringo Starr, From: A Hard Day's Night.}