La Poesía

Sep. 6th, 2003 05:27 pm
icepixie: (Default)
[personal profile] icepixie
Here's what I've been doing for the poetry class for the past week. I'm slooooowly getting back into the swing of things (haven't written a whole lot of verse in over a year, and I'm rusty). I'll get there, though.




Assignment: 4 lines. Something to do with Keats' "Ode to a Nightingale," but not necessarily a response or a summary, or even inclusive of a nightingale.

Logging Off

The cruel clock mocks me with its little finger pointing at small numbers;
I must extract myself from the angled brackets of the unsleeping giant
housed in little boxes the world over. I say goodbye, for I must leave
this world of dreams and enter the world of borders, and close my mind to sleep.

*

Assignment: In-class writing. Change a proverb and include six or more words from a given list of twelve. (I used mother, voice, blackberry, cliff, hexagon, cloud, and asphalt.) Must be exactly ten lines.

Nature's Bank Account

My mother told me often that a penny saved
earns interest at the bank.
Her voice was pickled
with the blackberries she'd been eating
as we walked along the cliffs
beside our hexagon-shaped house
that was usually shrouded in cloud.
I knew nothing of money,
and merely skipped along the asphalt,
concerned with blackberries, not pennies.

*

Assignment: At least 18 lines about lightness.

Soprano

I have found lightness written down
in a string of notes—G, A, B, C—
above the ledger lines.

They patiently wait for me
to work my way up
from the bottom of the staff
and its notes that sit heavy on the chest,
rumble up the throat,
and finally exit the mouth
with all the slow deliberation of a foghorn.

The middle notes are better,
thought still too serious
in the way they hold on
for measure after measure.

And then—then comes the tiptop
of my range, the high notes
that will run away from you
if you don't stand tall and sit on them.

They are the most playful in the way
they swirl up and down
in a flurry of eighths and sixteenths,
and only let themselves be caught
by those who lose all their ballast
and find how light they are
when they float back to earth.

*bounces at having finished homework and being able to watch Stargate with roomie all weekend*

Date: 2003-09-08 07:48 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] cheapevilgirl.livejournal.com
I have them all and I love season Three but Four is probally my favorite.

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