Everything is going to the Beat

And tonight I sat with eyes awake
Staring at a screen to take
A picture of my memories dear
A song that no human voice can hear
And as I sit, with weary face
With grasping, grabbing, screeching fate
I wonder to myself, so late,
Why I am I awake here?


And then as I begin to write
Begin to relive that fateful night
When leaves and petals and love and gold
Took root in my age not so old
And light and darkness had no meaning
And my life was never less demeaning
As I left home and left my being
To begin a world anew


And as I go to sleep tonight
In all my dreams, you shine so bright
I love you, I love you, with all my might
I love you more than birds in flight
And the dogs that fight
And the cops that plight
And the pigs that shite
And the shooters that bight
And the gods that smight
And the moths that white
And the sins that fear, o', Heaven's light
None of that matters tonight
Because I'm here, my Vite


And now I go up to sleep
My pillow keeps my mind a-leap
And as I drift to Neverland
I know it's You, who keeps my life so grand
And I know it to be so true
And I know it to be so You
Could always help me to get through
When "Everything is going to the Beat."

I wrote the poem this way to not only show my emotions that day, but to also better show the emotions I have towards it at this current moment as I write it. I used rhyme quite heavily, because I feel that something sing-song like is the best way of describing that time in my life, because, frankly, that's what it was. Childlike, and bright; and I will always remember it that way. I fit in some imagery, though mostly metaphorical and whimsy (just the way I like it), and I wanted to have the poem rely greatly on repetition of certain rhymes and words to better show the connectivity of everything inside it; like a Clockwork Universe.  Lastly, I incorporated the quote from Howl: "Everything is going to the Beat", due to the fact that I cannot recall a time in my life where I've ever felt so connected to a quote as I am to this one. I suspect that I will become a large influence in my life, and has already begun to inspire several artistic works from me.

~Goodnight

I will name my first born girl, Caesura.

Activity A:


Is there a tune 

more happy

than a daughter’s windchime laugh?  

A silence 

more crushing

than her rolling tear? 

Is there a breeze

more cooling 

than a son’s slumbered sigh?

A thought

more awesome 

than the question that he asks?

And is there a truer joy

when I am the clown?

Shame when I 

Accuse

and rage? 

Peace when I pull up 

the sheet?

Pride when I strike 

the flint?  I

made these kids

and I make these kids.  

And they 

make me.

Activity B:

Behaviour

Swans feed

in the water

and on land.

They are

almost

entirely herbivorous, although

small numbers of aquatic animals

may be eaten.

In the water

food is

obtained

by up-ending or dabbling,

and their diet is

composed of the roots,

tubers,

stems

and leaves

of aquatic

and submerged plants.

(From http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Swan)

Activity 3:

Am I not good enough? Why can't I be a favorite for once? I try my hardest each and every freaking day. And yet, no matter what I do, it's never good enough. I'm always second place, no matter what. And I hate it! I don't care if I sound like a brat! Like this'll get read anyway. It's not good, it's not worth reading. It's a teenager spouting and whining and being a stupid bitch. There, I swore now. Does that show that I have balls now? Does that I show that I actually care? No. It doesn't. I don't need to do that to show that I'm determined. Though, apprently, I have to. I didn't swear in my past poems. I didn't have to. I didn't see why I had to. It didn't need them! It didn't fit with the poem! I'm the poet, I get to decided what shit goes where! There, I swore again. Does this make this better? Is it so wrong that I want someone to be proud of me? Someone to say that I did something right? Is that so fucking wrong? No! Of course it's not! Now I feel like I'm going to cry. God, I'm such an idiot. All I do is bitch to myself. I need to suck it up, and get better. Then someone will recognize me someday. Then someday I'll be good enough. I'll be someone's favorite. Someone will say that my work was worth it. That'll it'll be read. That someone will give a shit about it. 'Cause god knows no one does right now. I'm just a kid who can't write worth a shit. Like I'll actually reach my dreams. Dreams are bullshit. At least mine are. That's for sure.

(Freeverse)

All I do is
bitch
to myself.
I need to suck it up,
and get better.
Then someone will recognize me
someday.
Then someday
I'll be good enough.
I'll be someone's favorite.
Someone will say that my work
was worth it.
That'll it'll be read.
That someone will give
a shit
about it.
'Cause god knows
no one does right now.
I'm just a kid
who can't write
worth a shit.
Like I'll actually reach my
dreams.
Dreams
are bullshit.
At least
mine are.
That's for sure.

(Freeverse bit in poetic form)

'10 Things I Write About You'

I stare up at the sky
And I tilt my chin upwards
I expect to see the sun
But all I see is you

*

Sometimes I want to punch you in the face
But mostly I want to snuggle it better
Does that make me weird?
No
It makes me a teenage female

**

In my eyes I see deep, dark mud

Only mud

But in yours I see cool oceans, sunlight skies, and the grass beneath my feet

***

Even when my hair is mussy

You think it's adorable

Even when I don't

****

I can't walk as fast as you can

Nor as fast can I run

But a heart could never beat faster than mine

*****

Something about you

A certain scent you bring

It smells like home

******

Maybe it's just human nature

But the one you love beats a pillow any day

*******

Every night

And every morning

I awake and think of you

********

Do I have rumblies in my tummy?

Nope

Those are just the butterflies

*********

I never pass my spelling tests these days

I keep spelling love Y-O-U

**********

You're

Only

Unbelievable

"I've got a feeling..."

A bite the end of my thumb nervously
As I wait on the edge of the cruveballing street
Twisting my flats into the walkway, I grip my sides tighter
The bubbles in my stomach rise as I see the cars drifting swiftly by
Not knowing which one is you
The lights flicker from red, to yellow, to green, and back again, the leafs flutter down one by one
The wind swirls around my head and I fuss with it
I don't want you to see me so frazzled
I just want you to see me
A famliar squeak and a halt
The gravel on the road sputters around my exposed toes
And I see the beams go out, and here a rattling open
And I see you

Modernism

                                        Love.             love                love.                                                                     love                    love             love                             love...                                                                   Love               love.                 love                               Love.                                                               love love love...                                                                                                                                     LOVE!

I dare you to figure this out.

Did ali, did ali, didgeridoo



I llama, i llama, i llama shrew

Dopemine, dopemine, dopemine too

Ilalala, ilalala, ilalala do

Calomine, calomine, calomine through

Onama, onama, onama pew

Nomnomaly, nomnomaly, nomnomaly queu

Fukafa, fukafa, fukafa flew

Underoo, underoo, underoo ew

Silky sweet, silky sweet, silky sweet new

Ekiba, ekiba. ekiba mew

Yoyotoss, yoyotoss yoyotoss leu

Open up, open up, open up tu

Uncle ba, uncle ba, uncle ba boo

?

?uoyod?wongniknihtmainoitseuqtahwwonkouyod

The Mouring Poem Word I Cannot Hope To Spell

Miss Mary Mac, Mac, Mac, all dressed in black, black, black
Her silver buttons, buttons, buttons fall down her smokey back, back, back
She asked her mother, mother, mother, if she was proud, proud, proud
To see her baby, baby, baby in this dark, cold shroud, shroud, shroud
And she said "Yes, Yes, Yes, my dear's the Best, Best, Best."
"Please don't you jest, jest, jest, this isn't just a test, test, test!"

Mary wanted to fly, fly, fly, up to the sky, sky, sky
Most nights she'd cry, cry, cry, family flowing by, by, by
And then she'd stare, stare, stare, up to the air, air, air
And wondered if, if, if that woman cared, cared, cared
Her sisters knew, knew, knew what Mary went through, through, through
What could they do, do, do? They felt it, too, too, too
For every day, day, day, in some sick way, way, way
Their mother laughed, laughed, laughed and still stayed gay, gay, gay

So Mary took, took, took from Father's nook, nook, nook
A little book, book, book and then she shook, shook, shook
For she read there, there, there, that under the stair', stair', stair'
Father kept a gun, gun, gun because he "cared", "cared", "cared"
And Mary took that gun, gun, gun at a quarter to one, one, one
And then went BANG, BANG, BANG, and the job was done, done, done.

A Villainous Villanelle

That hint of a spark in the dark pouring rain;

The light never passed so quickly in the day;

Whilst softly and quietly enters old London's bane.

And though all the monks play their refrain,

Nothing can keep this monster at bay,

That hint of a spark in the dark pouring rain.

And though all of the harlots may gasp and complain,

 Their cries won't be heard to at the end of the day,

Whilst softly and quietly enters old London's bane.

And though all of the villagers express their disdain,

To be of help to them, the nobles say nay;

That hint of a spark in the dark pouring rain.

And though all of the policemen witness her bloodstain,

All of those harlots refuse to obey;

Whilst softly and quietly enters old London's bane.

For all of the nobles ignore his tattered brain

And the Prince of England stays merry and gay.

That hint of a spark in the dark pouring rain.

Whilst softly and quietly enters old London's bane.

Uno, Dous...

~Poem Uno~

I love to ride my bicycle

It is so very very fun

I love to ride it in the sun

But I never would ever want it away

(I started the first three lines in a trochaic meter, and ended it in a anapestic meter. I did this, because I wanted to add a certain Shel Silverstein-esque feel to the poem; and I'm hoping I succeeded in that.)

~Poem Dos~

I have never been

So close to the edge of it

So close to falling

Falling farther and farther

Into a new love

(I started it out as a normal Tanka poem, but then ended it with 5 syllables, as if it isn't a Tanka, but a Haiku sandwich! I did this, because I love the length of Tanka poems, and love the patterns of Haikus, so why not combine the two?)

6 Poems Part 2; And Then I'll Be Through

Poem # 5:


I have not ever wandered the starry blue sky
I have not ever whispered the sweet hymns above
No, I have not ever been so blessed in this
Yes, I am still trapped in my clouds of blackness




Poem #6:


I have not ever wandered the starry blue sky
I have not ever whispered the sweet hymns above
No, I have not ever felt that great blessedness
Yes, I am still trapped forever in my clouds


(I do believe my favorite would have to be Poem #1. It is short, and very simple; but I think that that is part of it's charm. A poem doesn't have to be long and drawn out to be enjoyable. It just needs to shed literary light where there previously was now

6 Poems Part 1; 2 More To Come

Poem #1:

Have I ever wandered
Wondered starry skies of blue
Whispered hymns above
No, I have not been blessed
I am stuck in clouds of black

Poem #2:

Have I ever wandered, wondered skies
Whispered quiet hymns to the blue sky
No, no, I have not been so blessed
I am trapped in my clouds of black

Poem #3:

Have I ever wandered star skies
Have I ever whispered the hymns
No, I have not been so blessed
I am trapped in clouds of black

Poem #4:

Have I ever wandered star skies
Have I ever whispered my hymns
No, I've not been so very blessed
I am trapped by the black clouds

On the last marrow...

"And the eyes / of the sleep / ers waxed dead / ly and chill,
And their hearts / but once heaved, / and fore /ver grew still!
She walks / in beau / ty, like / the nights
Of cloud / less climes / and star / ry nights
And the eyes / of the sleep / and fore /ver grew still!
And their hearts / but once heaved, / waxed dead / ly and chill,
She walks / in beauty / and star / ry skies
Of cloud / less climes / like / the skies"

By George Gordon, with the combonation "The Destruction of Sennacherib" & "She Walks in Beauty."

Tn'T

(Tn'T FOR TROCHAIC TETRAMETER. I'M SO CLEVER HAR HAR.)


My name is Kirstine Nordtorp-Nielsen
I also have two lovely lil' cats
Their names are Bucky and Strompe
I love them very very very much
I also like the show My Little Pony
It speaks of Friendship and how it is Magic
My favorite pony is Rainbow Dash
I do not like Twilight Sparkle

A Sonnet Written By a Child

My love, my love, my dearest love. Wherever would I be?

Without your love, without your grace, to the depths I'd surely sink

Because with your love, your caring love, you let my wings spread free

For every time, and every day, that I feel that I may have hit the brink

You remind me that you are always there to lift me back to peace

And for this, I pray, that every day, you should never leave my side

Forever as we walk together in a love that shall always fail to cease

For my dear, I pray, our bond will grace our long immortal stride

And your kindness that fills my heart, forever beating in my supple chest

That keeps me safe, and lovingly warm, throughout the dank, cold night

Shall never tire, though myself I may, and will never stop to rest

Because I know, I know, my dearest love, that this, our fate, it be

Because I know, I know, my dearest love, that the one you love is me




(Note: It's VERY PINK. Like my FACE RIGHT NOW. >//////////////<)

First Blog? I think so.

Frankly, I think the blog is rather odd. It reminds me of the word clogged, which isn't necessarily a very good thing, and the also the word bog. In short, the word isn't the most... well, "pretty" thing I've ever heard in my life. However, the idea of a blog is kind of fun, and I should hope that we put them to good use in this class, and they are not just a random strand of writing DNA lost forever in the tides of the InterWeb Ocean. But, I don't think that would happen, do you? It's a rather silly thing to think about, really. Rather silly indeed.