Wednesday, October 22, 2014

Poet and I DO Know It

For my creative writing class I'm taking this semester, we had a unit on poetry. Now, I'm a macho man with macho tendencies, so I had a hard time coming up with poems. Just kidding. But please understand that these are all "Hey write a poem RIGHT NOW" type dealies. Okay? Okay.


Villanelle:

Like a friend, impatient, calling
Autumn has seen its time again
From the trees the leaves are falling.

Cold nights in blankets, dawdling
An urge to cuddle has been
Like a friend, impatient, calling.

Memories of the harvest we all sing
Colors change from green to red when
From the trees the leaves are falling.

Tractors in fields like insects crawling
Becoming gluttons and other sin
Like a friend, impatient, calling.

Cold hard rains of clouds a'bawling
Put umbrellas into the hands of men
From the trees the leaves are falling.

Then the wind my cheeks mauling
Sending foxes into their warming den
Like a friend, impatient, calling
From the trees, the leaves have fallen.

Pantoum:

Rain beat softly at the large pane window
The house was quiet and the world was calm
A drink in hand and a pen on the desk.
Beyond all this, the wish to be alone.

The house was quiet and the world was calm
As the ice sank into the brown
Beyond all this, the wish to be alone
Away from everyone, even himself.

As the ice sank into the brown
The pen stayed on the desk.
Away from everyone, even himself,
He stared out into the world.

The pen stayed on the desk.
Not a word was wrote.
He stared out into the world
Rain beat softly at the large pane window.

Found Poem:

Our Fathers brought forth
A great civil war
far above our poor power.

We have come,
conceived in liberty,
created equal.
But in a larger sense,
the world will little note
us the living.


We cannot consecrate
under God
and that government.
It is rather for us to
perish from the Earth.

(All lines are from the Gettysburg Address by Abraham Lincoln)

Tanka:

The plexiglass roof
Keeps our Colombo alive
In Iowa cold.
But it keeps him close to ground
While the mute koi fish pace on.

Asian bamboo grows
Next to this African bird.
The distance, cut short.
But neither one knows better,
This is their flora of home.



Free Verse-ish Thing I did for workshop:

Vacant Lot
A broken bottle, shattered glass
A gum wrapper, wasteful trash
Broken concrete, a vacant lot.

No more purpose, hardly used
A sad heart, split and bruised
Broken soul, a vacant lot.

But a flower sprouts, amidst the trash
Amidst the ugly, surrounded by glass
A lone flower grows in this vacant lot.
A shred of hope from what was lost.
A rope of love, a lifeline tossed.

One must never forget a single fact-
We can only grow from where we're cracked.

So there's that, I guess. I have more fiction things from the beginning of the semester I can post, plus we're gonna be doing creative non-fiction, which I'll be a boss at. I might just reuse 85% of this blog.

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