Untitled 2011 write.

I never came back to this write.  I'm still a little distracted by the beginning.  My vision never quite came out on the paper how I saw the picture in my mind.  I'm kinda embarrassed to share it but hey, archive...

Black
Blac
Blak
Blk

Bodies. 
Cold 
Ground

Step over them quietly

Don't make a sound

Night vision

Underground

Rail
Jail
Human Disaster

Freedom will always defeat the capture

Yes sir

No master

Imagine escapism

Only faster

Running for the last time

Dinner

Supper

Wine

Food for the Divine

You are what you eat

That’s why I chose to rhyme

Nothing in this world could ever satisfy your kind

Climb from the pockets of the blind

Shoot 'em in the back from behind

Get out of jail free with no co-sign

Leave it to the 'well and refined'

Spit shine shoes

Alliterate the blues

Jimmy gon' and do ya dance one more time

And 'take two' till ya' next cue

And know all ya' lines

Remember what it takes for you to shine.

third post about poetry 'allhuesofblue'

Update: Where did the days go?  I wrote this during the last year of undergrad.  I think about Louis MacNeice's poem often because, unfortunately, I know I have still not put the time nor energy into writing and reading poetry like I feel I should do.  I'm hoping this blog will be a good reminder for me to put time into this part of my creativeness, that does not come easy.  The love though, is there.

Here's another emulation from this past year.  I would have loved to model a longer poem after Louis MacNeice's, "Elegy for Minor Poets."  Upon first reading his poem, I was immediately made sad.  Seriously, my heart grieved. I knew, if I myself did not put my writing out there and spend time with my work, I would not become a well nurtured poet.  I would never the less still be a poet, but one whose talents were laid to rest by the wayside because she was too internally afraid to put herself out there for fear of failure.  So many of my works go unpublished and unfinished, but I'm correcting that - on my good days.  Anyways, I love his poem.  Here's the poem at its full length.  And all you poets who need a little more push and confidence in expressing yourself, I'm going through it too.  We can push through together, or something like that.  Heck, then again, you may not want to.  On second thought, I may not want to either.  How bout we play it by ear and check in again later.

But for now, here's Louis MacNeice's poem, then mine:   

Lines from, “Elegy for Minor Poets,” by Louis MacNeice

Who were lost in many ways, through comfort, lack of knowledge, 

Or between women’s breasts, who thought too little, too much,

Who were the world’s best talkers, in tone and rhythm

Superb, yet as writers lacked a sense of touch,

So either gave up or just went on and on—

Let us salute them now their chance is gone

And give the benefit of the doubtful summer

To those who worshipped the sky but stayed indoors

Bound to a desk by conscience or by the spirit’s

Hayfever.  From those office and study floors

Let the sun clamber on the notebook, shine, 

And fill in what they groped for between each line.

“writing is only half the battle” by mimi.

Mistakes only take a moment to make and a second to correct

Your history should always be told!

Preach! It is only through your voice we are made to listen.

And for those who cannot hear, your hands, speaking for you, will sculpt a picture to mold

Let it be, live to be free or die trying

Do not look down unless it is to wave from the sky where you are flying from.

  

And while you are in the sky, ask to whom you owe the pleasure of her beauty?

Recognition of the past allows the future more room to breathe

Paper scattered across desks waiting for adventures to be written

Seeing is believing, attached to nothing but the breeze.

Usted es una película que mira el sol

Patience blindly waits for union with her lost controller.

second post about poetry from 'allhuesofblue'

Update: I'm posting from an old blog to a new one.  Almost four years have passed since written.  Damn, that time.

The last semester of my undergrad year, this past spring, was by far my greatest.  I pushed out the best work I had at Huston-Tillotson than I had any of my previous years.  It felt good, and I just wished I had been putting in good work the entire time.  All that matters is I'm out of school and I'm still pushing myself to do better in terms of my crafts.  So here, I share with you one of my last emulations inspired by a John Keats poem regarding the journey of a poetic soul in worlds beyond our own.  Mine is similar in that it talks of another dimension/an afterlife.  I broke the meaning of what I felt each line symbolized for a paper.  Maybe I'll post that later.  But for now, here's what I got.

“Ode: Bards of Passion and of Mirth” by John Keats

Bards of Passion and of Mirth

Ye have left your souls on earth!

Have ye souls in heaven too,

Double-lived in regions new?

Yes, and those of heaven commune

With the spheres of sun and moon;

With the noise of fountains wond’rous,

And the parle of voices thund’rous;

With the whisper of heaven’s trees

And one another, in soft ease

Seated on Elysian lawns

Brows’d by none but Dian’s fawns;

Underneath large blue-bells tented,

Where the daisies are rose-scented,

And the rose herself has got

Perfume which on earth is not;

Where the nightingale doth sing

Not a senseless, tranced thing,

But divine melodious truth;

Philosophic numbers smooth;

Tales and golden histories

Of heaven and its mysteries.

“Ode: Beauty, Sun Upon the Earth” by mimi.

Beauty, Sun Upon the Earth 

Daylight’s near, come quench our thirst!

Is there life where flowers grew,

Underneath a world of few?

Yes, and more than twice sing tunes

Loud as wolves who howl at moons

Loud as birds whose wings beat restless

Crackling voices speaking justice

Buzzing murmurs, pollen for bees

Watch as ships drift out to sea

Wake up moments before dawn

Snakes of Wrath, Medusa’s Pawn

Above, small gray clouds defended

From the rain, warm drops descended

Fire, her relentless hot

Smoke’s relinquished smell of pot

Wind; it winds and whispers, 'spring'

Winters out; Frost bites and stings

But rewind if you need proof

By the door, there sat a Spook

Stories, painted scenery
Leaves of grass and greenry.

first post about poetry from 'allhuesofblue'

Well, this is a poem I wrote was for an assignment in my British and Caribbean poetry class during my undergrad, so I guess that's kind of cheating.  either way, i thought it good enough to post.  Plus, if anyone knows me and the immense amount of time it takes me to compose a few lines, let alone a piece of work, they will ll be shocked to know this took me two hours.  I was under a deadline, which i'm sure helped to speed up the process.  Now, there is background information as to why I chose to write about the topic that I did.  We were asked to choose a poem from the Medieval/Renaissance period to emulate, and I chose Andrew Marvell's 1650/51 work, "To His Coy Mistress," because it deals with the concept of two people consummating their love before time runs out, and well, that's what I'm all about.  I didn't emulate the entire poem.  Just the first 20 lines.  I tried to model each of my lines after his, so when he speaks of the Indian Ganges', he's referring to a holy river in India.  My line mentioned The Nile/denial; I had to use a play on words because that's just what I do y'all.  The Humber is a river of lesser proportions in Marvell's home town.  Lake Travis is a small lake here in Austin, so that's where I took Travesty from.  

To His Coy Mistress

Had we but world enough, and time,

This coyness, Lady, were no crime

We would sit down and think which way

To walk and pass our long love's day.

Thou by the Indian Ganges' side

Shouldst rubies find: I by the tide

Of Humber would complain. I would

Love you ten years before the Flood,

And you should, if you please, refuse

Till the conversion of the Jews.

My vegetable love should grow

Vaster than empires, and more slow;

An hundred years should go to praise

Thine eyes and on thy forehead gaze;

Two hundred to adore each breast,

But thirty thousand to the rest;

An age at least to every part,

And the last age should show your heart.

For, Lady, you deserve this state,

Nor would I love at lower rate. 

A Forced Farewell 

Godspeed, indeed for time is cruel

Closed mouths will never feed the fool

We lay out rules, we dream them through

Let’s hope by noon they’ll all come true

To live, to love.  Have doth denial?

I’ll be here till we reconcile

Travesty if I were to faint

No levee can stop marching saints

I ask you, answer if you will

Before Night Falls, we’ll have a deal

My grass will grow and twice as green

No rain in Texas past the spring

And I remain all day and eve

You’re worth the wait, I do believe

Infinite wisdom shall restore

Light years of what I’ve waited for

Decades, dimensions, future tense

Long Live Love, come forth or hence

Beauty, gracious, earthly being

The time is now, no in between.

there are three verses i need to tighten up, but regardless, i'm pleased.