All 2 entries tagged Writing
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October 21, 2008
No good at keeping up with journal-type things. Mostly because I haven't been doing a huge amount work that I am proud of. Poems really do go over my head, even when I am the one writing them.
But I've written quite a few at the request of David Morley. This week's have kind of been put off to the last minute as I have felt little inspiration for writing poetry, and instead have been working on my novel-in-progress. But inspiration did strike me tonight for the haiku we're meant to write, but I'll have to put up the photo tomorrow as the lighting is no longer right for such things. If I'm not still feeling unwell I'll get up early to catch the early morning light and hope and pray it's not raining again! And hope that my idea works, otherwise I'm going to be putting it on a post-it note and sticking it somewhere random.
As for the poem we started last week and had to re-work, I decided to go with the very first draft in the end, as it seemed most immediate. And, well, quite honestly, most technically good, to my eyes. Poetry = hard.
Mushrooms, mulch and moss;
Damp golden and brown.
Dying, living, reborn: tossed
And collected in Jacob's box.
That is what I saw in my metre squared. Entirely true. Might as well have a bit of fun with this if I'm not going to get a load of deep meanings from it, right?
As for walking poem, that will be done tonight as I rush towards anime and manga society. Will cause for interesting hand-writing, no doubt. Hopefully will still be legible.
Anyway, must be off, more lungs to cough up.
October 07, 2008
Yeah, so I finally finished my poem (or at last became happy with a previous draft, should I say) for Modes of Writing. I'm no good at poetry and making it have deep, meaningful comments about the world, only about my personal life. Which I'm certain is acceptable. I'm just not very confident on the poetry front.
You will never know all;
I keep it all tight
Behind my great wall.
But you do not care.
There's but one thing to know;
In the end it will be alright.
Oh, and my two random lines were: With glass and walls and windows ; Of my mother what she wants
I do have a reasoning for getting where I did, though I think my poem became very ironic in the end version. In my earlier drafts I had intended for it to truly mean how much my mother wants to protect me and make me happy, but I gradually realised that a lot of what she thinks is my happiness is just a front, and she doesn't really know everything about me. When she sees my troubles, or when anyone sees my troubles, a lot of what comes out is 'in the end it will be alright'. Very useful. Thanks. But then again, I think because I do not explain my troubles properly, or seem to brush them off as I explain them, people maybe don't think I'm as affected as I am. I find it hard to tell the whole truth, particularly to my parents, as I do not want them to react badly to what I tell them. I know I will have to eventually, but it's hard. It is, I guess, something I can only work through by myself.
I just made this a diary entry, didn't I?
Well, I was explaining my poem and giving a follow-up. That's my excuse and I'm sticking to it.