So I'm going to play Catan, so I don't have a whole lot to say today... So I'm going to count this as a half a post, making this one 9.5 instead of 10. So I'll talk about Catan a little, it's a table top strategy game where players collect resources from the land and use them to build cities and whatnot in a quest to attain victory points. That game is really fun, and they have a few expansion packs out for the game (one of which is what I'm about to play). Anyway, play Catan and comment on my other posts please~
Today I spent a good chuck of time working on some prep work for NaNoWriMo. After that I went to the store with one of my roommates, she ended up getting a larger lizard tank for one of her geckos and I got myself a new fish tank. I love fish, and soon I will be experimenting with making a working pond system~ In my NaNo story, I'm working with a bit of fantasy. My character is part of a family tribe that has hereditary paranormal abilities. I made a small system for how the genes work with the powers showing up, and I made a bunch of characters through random number generators and a few small systems I made. I ended up with over twenty characters, and I randomly assigned them meyer briggs types to start a framework for who my characters actually are. I had fun doing it, and I had fun looking at tanks at the store. My roommate commented on how I approach making characters though. She noted that I make a world first, and use the world to forge out my characters. Also, that she does the opposite, where she starts with a character and then builds a world around them that make sense with how she wants her character to be. We both use MBTI to give ourselves and idea of how the characters are going to approach situations, and I imagine that a bit of RPing might be being done in the next few weeks to better understand some of the types that I'm not too familiar with (or the types my roommates aren't too familiar with). Out of the four of us who are sharing the apartment, our types are: ISTP (myself), INFJ, INFP and ISFJ~ Anyway, that's all I have for today, a nice short post without too much thought, or anything in it actually. If you would like to confirm your existence to me, and you happen to know about MBTI, you should comment with what your typing is~
So today was super slow at work today. I decided to spend my time on the bus working on a character for my NaNoWriMo story, rocking out to Robin Thicke and The Love Club (don't judge me). I don't think I even mentioned this before, but I work at a store called Teavana... anyway, it was so slow at work today I spent of my time just trying out different tea combinations and thinking about how much I just wanted to go home and write. Well, I'm home now and I have no desire to write at all. Maybe after I get done with this post I'll feel more like writing, but right now... just... no. Anyway, today's post is going to be an old poem of mine. Mostly because I don't feel like writing anything new and recycling old stuff is a 'good' way to keep up with my blog postings. This poem was inspired by Valentines Day~ and it is what the poem is actually about. Oh sweet lycathian flower, mountainous and yet soft to touch, virtuoso in love and Bruch. Effluvium from high tower letting time sing of your power; songs of passion, heart break an' such. Blooming between space too much, love is all you e'er devoure. Young heart sweetened along Fool's way, make your soil rich for harrow lest you fall for those of Fae. Past blood filled flesh is where it's found sent to you on Cupid's arrow; sweet lycathian blooms today. Again, my sonnet writing skills need some work. But at least I'm attempting to write in a meter... I'm not actually doing it, but whatever. I'm not a fan of how blunt my rhymes were in this, but I'm not really a fan of sonnets to begin with, so even if I had made my rhymes all nice and euphoric I think I would still not like them. Anyway, this piece was originally called Sonnet for Valentine's and I actually posted it on Valentines Day on facebook. I liked how it stood out from all the sappy, "I love you"s that were going on all day that day. Only three people ended up liking it, but whatever~ As always, happy writing and let me know what you think of my poetry and all the other stuffs I've been posting. I would like to know that I'm just now talking to myself via my computer.
So a lot of people in my life right now are already talking about NaNoWriMo. If you don't know what that is you should google it, though I imagine most people here actively participate in it. Anyway, this entry is going to be me just giving some ideas about NaNo this year. Last year, I was inspired to write about the Japanese equivalent of Hide-n-Seek called, "Kakurenbou." I made up background stories and made several dozen characters and outlined a large portion of the story out. So that by that time November had started, I was already prepared and was meeting my writing goals each day. But then, this thing called mid-terms happened. Which ate up ALL my writing time and turned it into studying and homework time. So sadly, I never got passed 10k words last year due to my studies. This year, I'm not going to have any mid-terms to eat up all my free time. So I think that I will be able to finish the 50k word goal. I'm not certain about what I'm going to be writing about though. I'm thinking about doing something in a fantasy/magic kind of setting. If there is anyone else who is going to be participating in NaNoWriMo this year, maybe we could support each other in our word goals~ Anyway, happy writing.
So I messed up my track record for posting each day. I got a little sick, had to cover other sick people's shifts at work along with my own and didn't have time to come a share my writing with the world. I'm back to just doing my assigned shifts now though, still sick, but I should have my free time back at least. Anyway~ I'll share one of the poems that I have posted on this site. It was for the bi-weekly poetry contest held by morepages. The subject was jealousy, and if you haven't signed up for it yet, you should... This was my entry Waking Up You carried my bags for me on the day we met, only... I was a little scared by your approach until I let you in my little world, showing me I was blind. Arms and mind open, you readily embraced me: receiving my whole heart, my body and my soul. Enjoying the budding blossoms of our new love together, my blue eyes opening. Always you are kind to me, no matter what I do. Loving me when I am ugly and overwhelmed, loving me when I am not. Many times now, have you carried my bags for me. Inspecting their contents: my bread and cheese; my milk and eggs. Never noticing, until today, the young cashier that always checks us out. Eyes, moving over what is mine to see. This was actually a fun poem to design. I've been spending a lot of time with some women's studies majors and I think I made a good depiction of a female character, mbti INFP if you're curious. I also tried to make the gender slightly vague, so as to give the reader the ability to substitute the character in the poem with themselves or someone they know. I use the motif of eye, specifically eyes opening, to illustrate the progression of my character's jealousy. Going from being unable to see, to noticing everything around them. I also divided the stanza's into four groups on purpose. The first letters of each stanza spell a word, so the poem says, "You are all mine" which I thought gives the poem a sense of hidden intent, or secret nature to the character. Anyway, let me know what you think~ I'll try to keep my posting more regular now also bi-weekly poetry contest~ http://www.writingforums.org/threads/bi-weekly-poetry-contest-239-september-1-jealousy-not-envy.127143/
Another poem from back in high school. I'm a little tired tonight, so I'm not going to write a lot about this one. I remember it had something to do with people who blindly believe in things... or something. Anyway, night everyone~ Almost missed my post for today. Oeuvre In there I dip my pen: two circles drawn in sand, connecting to each other and filled with ink, I arise, flicking the remnant scales making my sword shine beneath its inky coat, plunge it into my spouse and bring light from that dripping black. Around this well, moths gather in mass, growing in search of lantern comfort, seraph echos, still believing they exist within that swamp, lost truths written by fossil astronomers lost truth as the shadow waves came, again and again until you no longer could see the twin fishes below. There in the sand it will crawl out, laying itself along the beaches of Ys it will wait, as fissures of light streak across the drying shadow revealing the star it has always been: to be seen by its seraph siblings. listened to by these mindful ears.
Half way though my first week of postings~ Anyway, I've been a little busy today so I'm just going to post about another older poem of mine. Red Pennies I am only sitting here: in my grassy field, Night's clam blanket draped over me with bright past stars above. Twinkling wishes march the sky caught in suspended webs, they dance through inky skies and wave through waves of arms. The master spider's catch always longing to be reached, invisible lines hooked with light cast by fishermen down below. Gentle dog only waiting, for his star to settle down, growing brighter with passing seconds until it nestles in his field. Lantern chance on grassy blades gracing the present dog's yard, a seraph star shining though ink like white snow settles on the ground. Muscle twitch in hesitation, goal's goal now in goal yet something feels wrong with silver-plated grass presenting it. Not so for the moths who storm from the trees, longing for lantern longing, to reach their fiery dreams. Embracing burning desire, glistening smoke they all become yet still they fly though hopeless ash to reach glistening hope below. Enter the leg-less spider who ghostly watches the oven's door, his tears crash against the cage but only a few can hear. And so a web is made over the lantern's top making fiery goals harder to reach, angering ignorant moths who still wait. Invisible lines call to the dog to look at insect plight, leg-less hero bleeds unheard as webbing bends towards hook. Moths trapped in fishing lines break wings and beat up ash, which disappears embracing the skies as it reaches toward those past stars. And so my blanket too now cries, sending its tears below for lost moths trapped by goals who're meant to waiting dogs. Lantern heart grows dim as cold wet night claims fire, "Oh sweet leg-less spider!", tugging on Dog's heavy soul. Soaked lantern's lie, lies before dog and rests in peace in mirrored sky. Reflected wishes starring back, present dog and past stars collide so close to touch in the shining mirror. Gently paw reaches out to them, they wave back though waves of arms. It is here where I've been sitting This is another poem that inspired one of my friends to make a painting. My main intention was to portray the struggle of people trying to elevate their status in life. Loosely inspired by Aesop's tale of the dog who attacked it's own reflection, I also coupled it with another one of my recurring motifs, moths. I like to use them as substitutes for humans. So again, if you happen to be following any of my blog, you can expect to see moths used a lot in my poetry. Let me know what you think~
Hello~ I hope someone out there in internet land is reading along to this.... Anyway, this is my third day of blogging my writing, and I'm moving away from stuff that I had done in high school and I'm going to show a piece that I did earlier this year (2013). I was feeling a need to try and add more of a structure to the way that I write poetry. Almost all of my other works had been free-from; with a surrealist influence. So no meter associated with them at all, which I don't think is a bad thing, but I was thinking that if I were to better my skill in writing I should at least better my skills in all the ways of writing that I can try. Anyway, for your reading please~ Sonnet for an Issue When I was born I was dipped in blue paint, naked and crying, I became one with that hue. It would come to define me, that acrylic taint, but not to me, oh no, but to you. I was older when given a gesso tattoo, a blank slate to my peers, their pens in hand. And again I stood naked before a great few, their sharpies scarred me like a brand with words describing what they didn't understand. Now's the time to choose my color to be, a choice of identity that's mine to command. A gift to others to let them see that the me they see and the me I am are just layers of paint that act like a sham. So... if you know anything about sonnets you are going to immediately notice that this also doesn't follow a meter. It's still rhythmic, in my mind at least. However this one does follow a rhyme pattern, though the rhymes are pretty blatant, in my ear, and kinda sound forced. But someone in the world liked it, and actually painted a visual representation of the poem for me~ I have it hanging by me desk. The poem itself is a commentary on self identity, specifically from the view of a person who is having a lot of external feedback that doesn't quite match how they see themselves. I like to use painting as a motif for life a lot.... so if you are following any of this, you've probably already noticed this with my poem from yesterday "The Musician." And if not, I'm sure you will shortly.... Hoping you had a fantastic Labor Day~
Alright, second day of blogging my writing. While in the real world I am currently worrying about making sure bills get paid over the labor day weekend and how much I'm not looking forward to having to deal with customers today and tomorrow, I am glad to say that I am sticking to my blogging assignment. Anyway, today is another poem that I had written back in high school. This was from my senior year (back in 2010). This was the time of my life where I was worrying about what to do with myself now that I had finished high school. My ultimate decision was to go on to audition for conservatory schools and study music, so this poem is dubbed, "The Musician." The Musician I am like you: a whilom wish for the present, free from time yet locked away in it, embracing the diaphanous with arms open, I breath it in and fuse with it; still a calloused hand dancing in ephemeral joy, steps moving bright paint across canvas whispering, “I am...”, etching itself across dry paint, a melody locked in its womb: B, D, E, A, B, Bb; letting it in slowly, devouring the life it sheds, I gather the blood to be spilled and decide to let go, giving back the lives stolen by stones, a fermata over knelling bells: tears of sanguine effort fall though Earth's mnemonic veil, meteors vanishing in the sky, I too live in only a moment, light effluvium among roses; swelling up from the ground, exhausting the body behind a mask of glee, reverberating through dead limbs and though deaf ears, a call to the senses in whispered thunderous dreams they fall, ebb and flow with my heart's syncopation, my wish for the present explodes, sending viridian soot in the air: B, D, E, A, B, Bb; a frozen knell which hangs over time and the mind, fusing with their audience and becoming like a rose, cascading roots seep into rivers of crimson, traveling miles in inches, the skin shivers in sentience; melody held within released, relaxing muscles compress and send it faraway, into another, this symbiosis of air and fire is painted with our voice; so let the bells ring, shatter the hold with 13's power, believing in pacifist thorns through sentience and skin the sanguine bond falls and it vanishes one last time: B, D, E, A, B, Bb; a feather entombed, meant for others I can stand, send a message without words but with time and grace, I'll flutter to those roots, send shivers though spines and free them from stones; the reason they can dream, the love of loving and the love itself, the now no longer in time, the effluvium among roses, the darkness in the body, the moments which still remain; a mirror reflecting itself in the faces of others, in the frozen bell, through the banal world a rose stands alone, I am like you: Again, I feel this poem is rather bad. The stanza's have no intention and the number of lines in them are random. I wrote this poem to make a literal description of what it was like for me to perform for others. The notes at the end of some of the stanzas are actually a cipher for the word "breath", which I was strategically placing at the end of stanzas to make the effect of the 'musician' taking a breath as they get ready to 'play' the next stanza. I thought it was clever, I don't know what you'll think. Also, there was some imagery that I liked in this: mostly the pianist playing and the bit about roses. Anyway, that's my 'meh' poem on music~ Until tomorrow, happy writing everyone
My main purpose in being on this site is to become a better writer, so I'm going to attempt to make at least one blog post a day featuring something that I have written. So with this being my first post, I'm going to start with a poem that I had written back in high school. This was part of a longer assignment for my world literature class, and I was studying the works of Octavio Paz. My assignment was to try and mimic his writing style in my own work, and while I felt I did a good job at it back then.... now, not so much. Zen Outside; a small layer of snow has settled on the ground, a sign of the Sun's coming knell, a reminder of the cycles that pass through our world. The flora beyond my window is near death, the sky above is beautiful; the sun setting below the purple-grey washed sky creates delicate colors which dance across the canvas, the blush of my face is mimicked by the soft red of the clouds; a sanguine bond between a celestial being a fragile flower. This is who I am, a rose, nothing more, and it is all I will ever be. For all things: the land we live off of, the resources we gather from it, the life we gain from them and the hands we use to shape it. All are diluted when they explain themselves, sharing it with another, it is then that the wisdom is lost, for it cannot be passed from stone to stone. So as the winter comes and the warmth of my shadow leaves, may the death which follows the growing ice bring no fear to your heart. The duress of its bland overcast skies and virulent time it brings are nothing to cower from. Their melancholy presence will still melt away, allowing the harrow to being. Now that I look back at this, I wonder what about this I thought was actually good. It seems very repetitive and there is nothing beyond the text itself. Not to mention that the assignment was to mimic the writing style of Octavio Paz, who would not have written something like this. This feels more like something a drunk M. Atwood would have written... Anyway, that's all for today, I'll keep posting poetry until I run out of it. So if you happen to be reading this, prepare for poems~
