tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-39482505031619817752024-03-05T17:25:29.722-08:00Write Away!Jenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06369709706666596260noreply@blogger.comBlogger10125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3948250503161981775.post-8907109201306496862009-04-13T15:07:00.000-07:002009-04-14T20:45:45.389-07:00People WatchingHey all! Hope you all had a great Easter! As for me, I just flew back to North Carolina from New York. A very good vacation for me (but I ate WAY too much.) Anyway, I'm sitting here in the airport waiting to pick up my roommate and though of a great poetry exercise.<br /><br />I'm sitting here people watching. Watching people race to flights, eating cinnamon buns, and having the wheels break off of their bags ( I felt so bad for that person.) But as I was sitting here watching the people pass through Charlotte airport I started asking questions. Where were they going? Were they going to see their family or flying to go to a meeting tomorrow for work?<br /><br />So here's my exercise, I want you to people watch and image their life. Go outside and watch the world around you. Watch the people and image their personality. It's actually a lot of fun making up a whole different life!<br /><br /><span style="FONT-STYLE: italic">Sticky Fingers<br /><br /></span>Cream icing falls onto my fingers<br />as snow frosting mountain tops.<br />Brushing my brown locks away from the danger zone<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7JiSTQ257foRr-cdBqe0YT2EoYYIsHvO1X61m1738ovjW0i27QI6weKr2T0tgQwNfLEoQqNZRzp77r8kXH4rsuLtYWH3R-PUYt-ApidWdyFJFLjQzlTrNkd5IzcIiw-m8h9LUC683A7s/s1600-h/kid-cinnabon.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5324305136775016962" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; WIDTH: 214px; CURSOR: pointer; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7JiSTQ257foRr-cdBqe0YT2EoYYIsHvO1X61m1738ovjW0i27QI6weKr2T0tgQwNfLEoQqNZRzp77r8kXH4rsuLtYWH3R-PUYt-ApidWdyFJFLjQzlTrNkd5IzcIiw-m8h9LUC683A7s/s320/kid-cinnabon.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />the box tumbles to the ground.<br />An acrobat twisting down onto the titled floor.<br /><br />I don't look very professional sitting here licking my index finger<br />in my Ralph Lauren suit and Channel glasses on.<br />Trying to just blend in with the crowd. Always trying.<br />Still just a kid at heart.<br /><br />The freckles on my face can be traced into constellations<br />hidden zodiac signs. My chocolate bangs can not even hide<br />the freckles in my eyes.<br /><br />I pick up my Gucci laptop case and head towards the gate.<br />Still sucking on my sticky fingers. Any last trace of paradise<br />still reminds on the tip of my tongue while I<br />enter back into reality.<br /><br /><br />That's just something I worked on real quickly. I like it, but I may go back and work on it again. That's the beauty of poetry, you can always go back and re-work your piece. It can make it stronger or maybe you'll end up not liking it as much. But never EVER throw away your work. You'll never know when you can use it.<br /><br />Have fun with this one! It's always fun to see what kind of life you can come up with!<br /><span style="FONT-STYLE: italic"><span style="FONT-STYLE: italic"><span style="FONT-STYLE: italic"></span></span><br /></span>Jenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06369709706666596260noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3948250503161981775.post-54423464063996170602009-04-07T10:58:00.000-07:002009-04-07T11:14:58.123-07:00Say Cheese!Hey friends! Hope everyone is inspired to write today. I know Easter is right around the corner and we're all super excited to get out of school and go home (I know I am.) So today I thought of a fun exercise to do.<br /><br />Since Easter is all about spending time with family and friends I want that to inspire you. Find a picture from any family event (Christmas, a birthday etc...) and write a poem about the picture you have. You can write it from your point of view (if you're in the picture or not), from a different family member's point of view or even an outsider looking in.<br /><br />For example I wrote the poem <span style="font-style: italic;">Paper Hats</span>. It's about my Grandmother's 81st birthday and I wrote it in the point of view form my Aunt Shari. She's not in the picture that I have posted and she's like the black sheep of the family, so it's suppose to be from her point of view looking in.<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Paper Hats</span><br /><br />I brought the eye of the storm with me as I entered.<br />Black leather jacket clinging to my waste<br />cell phone glued to my hand.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHs-ulMhGmutCeIVzmzUTQZIQFLGOXC_LdHUxHle05oHwJfaV3hxFC8MxuhjyJGi69z8BcKoyzl5bfmIf30Ci25qB7xJjbaRFJdJY7pqxt3hGGJGyzVYts5SPUIuILY9cXvjCHcpWX0lc/s1600-h/Laughing+christmas+family+pic.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHs-ulMhGmutCeIVzmzUTQZIQFLGOXC_LdHUxHle05oHwJfaV3hxFC8MxuhjyJGi69z8BcKoyzl5bfmIf30Ci25qB7xJjbaRFJdJY7pqxt3hGGJGyzVYts5SPUIuILY9cXvjCHcpWX0lc/s320/Laughing+christmas+family+pic.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5322012700258788834" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Passing the giggling nieces<br />I smile politely and pushed through them.<br />The blonde one nudges me back, her wavy eyes following me<br />A Mona Lisa glare.<br />Her fists tighten as she turns to whisper in her sisters’ ear.<br /><br />I sit at the dining room table with the rest of the adults stage frightened.<br />I managed a smile, as the table grows still.<br />Watery eyes fixed on mine, the uncles already on their fifth beer.<br /><br />Laughing, laughing<br />It’s her 81st birthday.<br />More of this laughing.<br />Stupid paper hats.<br /><br />I am the hand grasping the mug in the corner.<br />Not invited into their circle, always on the outskirts,<br />bordering on the family line.<br /><br />I stir my tea<br />cupping the white porcelain mug with shaky hands.<br />The picture of the family screened on it<br /><br />I’m not in it<br />...Of course not<br /><br />So yes, maybe it's a little like a revenge poem (considering I do have some personal problems with my aunt) but hey you might get a great poem out of it! It can be funny, emotional or even inspirational. Have fun with it and see what you come up with! Remember it can be from your point of view, another family member's or even a total stranger looking in! Happy writing :)Jenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06369709706666596260noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3948250503161981775.post-45378523177208592272009-03-31T09:26:00.000-07:002009-03-31T09:45:33.498-07:00History HomeworkHey writers! I hope you all had an enjoyable weekend and you have been writing away. Today I have a new exercise for you all. I want you to write a poem that characterizes a historical figure. It could be a historical leader, a role model or even a Greek mythology character. I want you incorporate historical facts but also relate the characters to the present.<div><br /></div><div>For example I wrote a poem about the Greek God Apollo. </div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">Apollo</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"><br /></span></div><div>Artemis sprinted into the blue mist coating he forest floor.</div><div>Thickening fog choking her feet.</div><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 273px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCMUPI5Y4YQNY1-5NfNjSnrfA-imP1IYHQD2q_3lPr-DVI2TCmjTfjvO95OElOQBCrm_r7ww4xeNBQ_hWpcUqymk20vxhGWFtIk2e2rgjO4RKoMcOOlfJcJZ5yZ9bQrFV64xvBtaTO1iE/s320/mban854l.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5319393573501641266" /><div>She giggles as she darts behind the trees</div><div>her golden locks woven with leaves.</div><div><br /></div><div>I race into the blur of purple at the black horizon.</div><div>My foot leave the ground, and the sun perks up.</div><div>She defeated Capricornus and Taurus,</div><div>spraying my face pastel pink.</div><div>Damn it, I can't escape it.</div><div><br /></div><div>I race against the streaks of light</div><div>in search of my little sister.</div><div>She tackles me down into the autumn leaves,</div><div>grabs my lyre from my clutch and plucks the silver strings.</div><div><br /></div><div>We sit together until the last ray tickles out noses.</div><div>Poetic lyrics mixing with the tune.</div><div>The wind blowing the song over Athens</div><div>and up for Dad to hear.</div><div><br /></div><div>Have fun with this one. It's really interesting to take on another persona. Happy writing :)</div>Jenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06369709706666596260noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3948250503161981775.post-64582207317766241202009-03-23T11:05:00.000-07:002009-03-26T19:15:44.432-07:00Parody PerfectionHey friends! I hope you all had a wonderful weekend. I was going to spend more time on rhyming poems because you all seemed to really like them, but today in class we were watching Bowling for Columbine and it brought me back to one of my old poems. <div><br /></div><div>In the movie there is a scene showing the 9/11 attack. It's a moment in my life that I will never forget. Growing up in New York the city is very close to my heart and the experience of 9/11</div><div>is still very real to me.</div><div><br /></div><div>On a happy note, the experience inspired me to write a poem a few years after, in a parody that simulates a famous poem "Chicago" by Carl Sandburg. Since it's a poem about Chicago I decided to change it up and write about New York. But let me rewind and explain what a parody is.</div><div><br /></div><div>Basically you want to model your poem after the original poem. For example you would use the same rhythmic pattern, meter, structure, etc... Parody's are usually used to mock a poem, but I wrote a more serious poem.</div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">Chicago</span></div><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 162px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCnBOYC_sNFslrX5_lN1yPxCBE0Fzxw49BHdfGLAbAdjdJYRICXoOkqSTwYfgtDciwKIu_-0wCQBnK321Wm-oTYnBXS5tTybpyN1kSYrtgsN7dvi6RPeQjBc6gam1lzHyPKx2H120fo3I/s200/chicago19098bely9.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5316463097308606914" border="0" /><div>By Carl Sandburg</div><div> </div><div>Hog Butcher for the World,</div><div>Tool Maker, Stacker of Wheat,</div><div>Player with Railroads and the Nation's Freight Handler;</div><div>Stormy, husky, brawling,</div><div>City of the Big Shoulders;:</div><div>They tell me you are wicked and I believe them, for I have seen your painted women under the gas lamps luring the farm boys.</div><div>And they tell me you are crooked and I answer: Yes, it is true I have seen the g</div><div>unman kill and go free to kill again.</div><div>And they tell me you are brutal and my reply is: On the faces of women and children I have seen the marks of wanton hunger.</div><div>And having answered so I turn once more to those who sneer at this my city, and I give them back the sneer and say to them:</div><div>Come and show me another city with lifted head singing so proud to be alive and coarse and strong and cunning.</div><div>Flinging magnetic curses amid the toil of piling job on job, here is a tall bold slugger set vivid against the little soft cities;</div><div>Fierce as a dog with tongue lapping for action, cunning as a savage pitted against the wilderness,</div><div>Bareheaded,</div><div>Shoveling,</div><div>Wrecking,</div><div>Planning,</div><div>Building, breaking, rebuilding,</div><div>Under the smoke, dust all over his mouth, laughing with white teeth,</div><div>Under the terrible burden of destiny laughing as a young man laughs, </div><div>Laughing even as an ignorant fighter laughs who has never lost a battle,</div><div>Bragging and laughing that under his wrist is the pulse, and under his ribs the heart of the people, Laughing!</div><div>Laughing the stormy, husky, brawling laughter of Youth, half-naked, sweating, proud to be Hog Butcher, Tool maker, Stacker of Wheat</div><div>Player with Railroads and Freight Handler to the Nation.</div><div><br /></div><div>And here is my poem.</div><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 251px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhw93btuVj8qEeQatUcbAzAB14_Ke6xrluAW-Gu_Oh9eg89UNVCYW6VNBbPUiDkucCbsLgvGuzJwNgkga692oMD6JU5Hv-_EFcPN42nRhWj3SNddX2_fIiwbXti8gDpvL-l5BWi9k3SzqY/s320/New-York-City-Posters.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5316461926241188322" border="0" /><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">New York</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"><br /></span></div><div>The sleepless city</div><div>The narrow minded, freedom rider</div><div>The city of truth and lies</div><div>Hard headed, seamless, brave </div><div>Heart of America.</div><div>They tell me you are ignorant and stubborn for I have seen you turn your back upon travelers.</div><div>And they tell me you are crooked and I answer: Yes, it is true. I have seen the gun shot wounds which you try so hard to hide beneath your tough outer core.</div><div>And they tell me you are blind and my reply is: I have seen what you can not. I see the shattered dreams of all who come to follow their heart.</div><div>And having answered so, I turn once more to those who snicker at this my city and I give them a snicker back and say to them, come show me another city where every day is a new beginning, a chance to find yourself, to pick up the pieces of a shattered life.</div><div>Where the songs in her soul are not kept inside but shared for all to hear.</div><div>Gentle as a new born kitten, but vigorous as a cactus plant, hard to get to know</div><div> But aren't we all?</div><div>Whining</div><div>Working</div><div>Walking</div><div>Working</div><div>Wishing</div><div>Working, working, working</div><div>Under ashes of fallen spirits</div><div>She laughs with tears gleaming in her eyes</div><div>Laughing as she lifts up her green skirt to show off her long legs to the boys in white sailing into her harbor</div><div>Laughing at the young children riding the Ferris wheel at Toys' R' Us</div><div>Laughing at the love in skater's eyes holding hands while it begins to flake</div><div>Laughing, laughing oh this sleepless city, the narrow minded, freedom rider, city of truth and lies, hard headed, seamless, brave, the heart of America city, will follow her dreams in hope of a better tomorrow.</div><div><br /></div><div>Now it's your turn! Find a poem you really love and write in a similar style. Happy writing :)</div>Jenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06369709706666596260noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3948250503161981775.post-62248838690531099182009-03-18T13:46:00.000-07:002009-03-26T19:16:07.683-07:00Opps...I did it again!Hey writers! Last time I talked about rhyme and how many song writers write songs that are actually rhyming poems. Well today I have two really fun exercises for you all to try.<br /><br />1.) Take any pop song and transform its lyrics into a real poem, either keeping the song form or dropping it. Try to improve the word choices, imagery, rhymes, and rhythms. Cut the stuff that seems like filler. Your work should become a poem without having the music in your head!<br /><br />For example I used the song <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=O_Iiiso9DxA"><span style="font-style: italic;">The Last Goodbye</span> by James Morrison</a>.<br />Here's the original version:<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">The Last Goodbye</span><br />By James Morrison<br /><br /><div style="text-align: right;"><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-style: italic;">I don't believe you</span><br /></div><span style="font-style: italic;"></span></div><span style="font-style: italic;">And I never will<br />Oh I can't live by your side<br />With the lies you've tried to instill<br />I don't have to give you a reason<br />For leaving this time<br />Cause this is my last goodbye<br /><br />It's like I hardly know you<br />But maybe I never did<br />It's like every emotion you showed me<br />You kept well hid<br />And every true word that you ever spoke<br />Was really deceiving<br />Now I'm leaving this time<br />Cause this is my last goodbye<br /><br />I've gotta turn and walk away<br />I don't have anything left to say<br />I haven't already said before<br />I've grown tired of being used<br />And I'm sick and tired of being accused<br />Now I'm walking away from you<br />And I'm not coming back<br /><br /></span>And here is my version entitled <span style="font-style: italic;">True Words.<br /><br />True Words<br /></span><span>By Jen</span><span style="font-style: italic;"><br /><br />Some people say that I'm not worth it.<br />Never thought that of you.<br />I'm not perfect, we make mistakes.<br />But see <span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">I don't believe you</span>, <span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">and I never will</span>.<br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">The lies you've tried to instill</span>, swim<br />through my heartline veins.<br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">It's like I hardly know you</span> <span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">but maybe, </span><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">I never did</span>.<br />Three years.<br />Three birthdays.<br />Three Christmas's<br />poured onto the floor in pieces of old shells.<br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">It's like every emotion you showed me</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">you</span></span><span style="font-style: italic;"> could have just</span><span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"> hid</span>.<br />Would give my soul to keep you, but<span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"> this is</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">my last goodbye</span>.<br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">True word</span>s are <span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">deceiving</span>.<br /></span><br />2.) Many songs use <span style="font-style: italic;">refrains</span>, lines that are repeated at the same spot in each stanza. The changing words might describe a place or tell a story, while the fixed refrain made a kind of aside, repeating a saying or mysterious statement. Like Britney Spear's song <span style="font-style: italic;">Opps...I Did It Again.</span> Britney repeats that refrain over and over throughout the song but also incorporates other lyrics. I want to you try and write a poem that uses a refrain.<br /><br />For example here is a poem by Allen Ginsberg entitled <span style="font-style: italic;">Refrain</span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Refrain<br /><span style="font-style: italic;">By Allen Ginsberg<br /><br />The air is dark, the night is sad,<br />I lie sleepless and I groan.<br />Nobody cares when a man goes mad:<br />He is sorry, God is glad.<br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);">Shadow changes into bone</span>.<br /><br />Every shadow has a name.<br />When I think of mine I moan,<br />I hear rumors of such fame.<br />Not for pride, but only shame,<br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);">Shadow changes into bone</span>.<br /><br />When I blush I weep for joy,<br />And laughter drops from me like a stone:<br />The aging laughter of the boy<br />To see the ageless dead so coy.<br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);">Shadow changes into bone</span>.<br /><br /></span></span>Pick your favorite song and give it shot! I wouldn't recommend anything too hard but something fun and simple! Happy writing :)<span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-style: italic;"><br /></span></span>Jenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06369709706666596260noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3948250503161981775.post-69949191620799784412009-03-14T13:33:00.000-07:002009-03-26T19:16:27.031-07:00Back From Break & Into PoetryWelcome back! I hope everyone had an amazing spring break, I know I sure did. I know your brains are probably still in relaxation mood, so we'll do a simple poem today. I want you to try your first rhyming poem.<br /><br />Basically every other line is going to rhyme with the one before that. In other words, the first line will rhyme with the third and the second line with rhyme with the fourth...BUT ONLY THE LAST WORD.<br /><br />For example: An excerpt from Shakespeare's <span style="font-style: italic;">Twelfth Night:<br /><div style="text-align: right;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">www.CartoonStock.com (Student use)</span></span><br /></div>Come away, come away, <span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">death</span>,</span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1ZSSuJHocAZa-gjaLV1GObbNiOgYqyVDNQP-OkCvsv4VTHR5_IFkdUDY-pPDSOuuXT9VcRZk1NR1pjaN4C4yvewtNwWyT2l9E3WGFZ65FERfSiOILe8oyLol-cBcwA07FwWz6egQMeG8/s1600-h/rman2917l.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 263px; height: 349px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1ZSSuJHocAZa-gjaLV1GObbNiOgYqyVDNQP-OkCvsv4VTHR5_IFkdUDY-pPDSOuuXT9VcRZk1NR1pjaN4C4yvewtNwWyT2l9E3WGFZ65FERfSiOILe8oyLol-cBcwA07FwWz6egQMeG8/s400/rman2917l.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5313149434478118498" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-style: italic;"> And in sad cypress let me be <span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(0, 0, 153);">laid</span>;<br />Fly away, fly away, <span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">breath</span>;</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;"> I am slain by a fair cruel<span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);"> </span><span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(0, 0, 153);">maid</span>.<br />My shroud of white, stuck all with <span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(102, 0, 204);">yew</span>,</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;"> O, Prepare <span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(0, 153, 0);">it</span>:<br />My part of death, no one so <span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 204); font-weight: bold;">true</span><br /> Did share <span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(0, 153, 0);">it</span>.</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;"><br />Not a flower, not a flower <span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(0, 0, 102);">sweet</span>,<br /> On my black coffin let there be <span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);">strown</span>;<br />Not a friend, not a friend <span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(0, 0, 102);">greet</span><br /> My poor corpse, where my bones shall be <span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);">thrown</span>.<br />A thousand thousand sighs to <span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 102, 0);">save</span>,<br /> Lay me, O <span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(51, 0, 51);">where</span><br />Sad true lover never find my <span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 102, 0);">grave</span>,<br /> To weep <span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(51, 0, 51);">there.</span><br /></span><br />In the play, this rhyme is sung by Feste, the fool. You can learn a great deal about songwriting by examining the two stanzas closely and noticing how Shakespeare puts the melody right in the words. If you listen to other song lyrics, most songs are poems! I bet you your favorite song uses the rhyming style that you are going to use today!<br /><br />Word of advice...end the lines with easy rhyming words (cat, mat, hat etc...) it'll make it a lot easier on you, but also don't be afraid of a challenge. Have fun with it and make it your own! Happy writing :)<span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-style: italic;"><br /></span></span>Jenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06369709706666596260noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3948250503161981775.post-47071020173406587242009-03-03T19:19:00.000-08:002009-03-26T19:16:45.632-07:00Fun With Forms: What's A Haiku?Hey friends! I hope you all had a great time with your 5 senses poems! I know my friends sure did. I want to move away from the free verse style of writing poems and have you try and write your first form poem, a Haiku.<br /><br />Now I know you all must be like what the heck is a Haiku it sounds like someone just sneezed. A Haiku is originally a Japanese poem of seventeen syllables in three lines, a Haiku juxtaposes seemingly unrelated observations in order to glimpse the hidden connections between things. It relies on mood and suggestiveness. Calling it a "form" is almost an understatement, since it serves as a means of illumination.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEii_EsH8TkmxgH0DGmoqbQMAV4AqN_8tEZPgU_bz6vP8CofR7up-jS5s2jOeRgQco-akNCY8gg7bV2BojjPYv2QVhVMMOhBki0GH75pwCIgL1-C7qaat-h5JR5lTWVlfpeAvWpOKejIKfY/s1600-h/84da8183.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 218px; height: 222px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEii_EsH8TkmxgH0DGmoqbQMAV4AqN_8tEZPgU_bz6vP8CofR7up-jS5s2jOeRgQco-akNCY8gg7bV2BojjPYv2QVhVMMOhBki0GH75pwCIgL1-C7qaat-h5JR5lTWVlfpeAvWpOKejIKfY/s320/84da8183.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5309171502174221554" border="0" /></a><br />Most Haiku's deal with nature, seasons and sounds. They don't have to rhyme or have a certain rhythm. It just has to be three simple lines. First line has <span style="font-weight: bold;">5</span> syllables the second line has <span style="font-weight: bold;">7 </span><span>syllables</span> and the third has <span style="font-weight: bold;">5 </span><span>syllables</span>. Here's a few of my own:<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-style: italic;">Sherbet ice tabby</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Cheshire cat smile lingers</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Whispers lost in wind</span><br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">This Haiku was about a tabby cat I saw crossing the street on campus. I had no plans about writing about a cat for my Haiku, but the magic of poetry just made it happened.</span><br /></div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGf-6_ZfC6btNajX-mwfSvKxWyWSeSO561AAEo4ut6ZnCvxxF7oWgl0JphIYe_n0xxgIQFYObUGDUD-B9fPl3rWpiig1BfI-N6obVWSd_lra1rXQmPuFF-8HsRkzpGZSv7ppJrP66EFyw/s1600-h/151344645_93de7e2293.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 213px; height: 191px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGf-6_ZfC6btNajX-mwfSvKxWyWSeSO561AAEo4ut6ZnCvxxF7oWgl0JphIYe_n0xxgIQFYObUGDUD-B9fPl3rWpiig1BfI-N6obVWSd_lra1rXQmPuFF-8HsRkzpGZSv7ppJrP66EFyw/s320/151344645_93de7e2293.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5309171844831721730" border="0" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-style: italic;">Sun kissed dimpled cheeks</span><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-style: italic;">Sea salt saturated hair</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Challenging the waves</span><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">This Haiku was inspired by an old picture my mom pulled out over Christmas break of me and my cousin at the beach.</span><br /></div></div><br /><br />Now it's your turn! Sit outside and listen to the sounds of nature or just observe the world around you and look at certain objects differently than you ever had before. Open your eyes and your ears and EXPLORE! Happy writing :)!Jenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06369709706666596260noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3948250503161981775.post-36298638649895165482009-02-20T13:52:00.001-08:002009-03-26T19:17:02.402-07:005 Senses Part 2Hey all! I hope you had fun with your color poems! I want to stay on the 5 senses topic but try a different exercise.<div><br /></div><div>To begin I want everyone to time yourself again for one minute and write down some words that come to your head (just like the exercise before.)</div><div><br /></div><div>Today's exercise is going to be fun (I promise!) I want you to try and write a poem as if you were blind or deaf- or both. To do this, you might spend time with your eyes closed, or your ears covered, perceiving what's around you by smell and touch, reaching out and fumbling for the nearest object, then reacquainting yourself with its texture, its shape, its mystery.</div><div><br />Try walking around your room with your eyes closed, things that you though felt familiar may feel totally different when you can not see it. Sit outside and listen to the sounds around you, and imagine what you're hearing. While some of your senses are blocked it enables your other senses to grow stronger.</div><div><br />I asked my friends to be my guinea pigs in this exercise and video their experiences. This is my friend <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DZF5sfyUh94">Ashley walking around our dorm doing the exercise.</a><br /><div> <div style="text-align: right;"> <div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHBJMSYrZXoKW3Z0U3QAHbOUkoY6YEETjM0Dd6iVtYGbjm652QxG5YhujiImtNkcsjDSfWUIdWCaNuY3mG7ny7nVRWspo0Grg2AEEhIL3uYyTUwWMEjFhj5hf7GVONnVHg6uwsqyOGTyg/s1600-h/SDC10947.JPG"><br /></a></div> <div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjV3AAxIk5Y1HXtijzwCERa_bSdNCxsMsKbjHj4npNgJVgRdCCoYHFPHGFgbSjVF3lukkuel7lSjgiaQwqUcsOfFZ3PRVl_3Bfue1shxuv0K4TcUB9ugkKJlANxrZg25ZyA7TekIhY_UkE/s1600-h/SDC10944.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 387px; height: 232px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjV3AAxIk5Y1HXtijzwCERa_bSdNCxsMsKbjHj4npNgJVgRdCCoYHFPHGFgbSjVF3lukkuel7lSjgiaQwqUcsOfFZ3PRVl_3Bfue1shxuv0K4TcUB9ugkKJlANxrZg25ZyA7TekIhY_UkE/s200/SDC10944.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5306466502541003426" border="0" /></a></div></div></div><a href="http://travelsincostarica.blogspot.com/">My fellow blogger Aly</a>, <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=y2f6Ag2zrpY">was so inspired by her turn in the exercise she wrote the poem entitled <span style="font-style: italic;">Blinded Thoughts.</span></a> </div><div style="font-style: italic;"><br /></div><div><span style="font-style: italic;">Blinded Thoughts</span><br /><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">uncertainty fuels my steps<br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">as i slide across tiled floor<br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">my hands graze cold brass<br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">why not turn it?<br /><div style="text-align: left;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhA_gLqK6gAUKZQRqaLzlpHfmSUQzbqswoJwFmkLr4AY0Kd59r0LXwJpAhklwwdxQHFlxTN14V5JITjCpRBIsvp_SF9gQUgdZLRuo8XkpKFs_pkedscpTQz2x_XABtBK5MDaq3lxcF414g/s1600-h/P2220141.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhA_gLqK6gAUKZQRqaLzlpHfmSUQzbqswoJwFmkLr4AY0Kd59r0LXwJpAhklwwdxQHFlxTN14V5JITjCpRBIsvp_SF9gQUgdZLRuo8XkpKFs_pkedscpTQz2x_XABtBK5MDaq3lxcF414g/s320/P2220141.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5306471332759251794" border="0" /></a></div> </div><div style="text-align: left;">something hanging - purses?<br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">"ill have to borrow one of those sometime."<br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">i think as i turn and make my way to the bed<br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">soft down comforter<br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">makes me want to lay down and sleep<br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">then there's something strange... what <span style="font-style: italic;">is</span> that?<br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">i get my answer as some toy laughs at me.<br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">i shuffle through the bathroom<br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">is that a hula skirt hanging in Jen's shower?<br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">i wish i was in Hawaii..<br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">into the unknown: Ashley's room<br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">lots of activities on P-Mo's desk.<br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">that's not hair gel.<br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Ashley has a maraca.. wait no, pills?<br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">papers on her wall<br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">make me wonder what the signs say<br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">i think i like it better in the light.<br /></div><br />Best advice...do this with a friend so you don't get hurt (he he.) Have fun "see" what you discover! You never know what you'll come up with!<br /><br /></div>Jenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06369709706666596260noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3948250503161981775.post-68948045163309168262009-02-17T09:12:00.000-08:002009-03-26T19:17:18.387-07:00The 5 SensesGood Morning all! Hope everyone's weekend was fantastic and we're in the "write" mind to write. To begin with I want everyone to start off with a quick exercise. Time yourself for one minute and just write down anything that come to mind. They could be objects, sentences, or even names. So, ready...set...GO!<div><br /></div><div>Once you have compiled your list put it next to you and take a new sheet of paper. I like to write in a notebook but everyone has a different style in how they write. You should do this exercise every time you sit down to write. You don't have to used the words you wrote down, but hold on to them you never know when you can use them in another piece.</div><div><br /></div><div>Today I want you to focus on your 5 senses; sight, sound, taste, touch, and smell. Pleasing the senses of the reader is the surest strategy for reaching the mind and the soul. We will be doing a few exercises dealing with the 5 senses but today I want you to focus mainly on <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">color</span></span>.</div><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 166px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsR0vv0vNJGk_i4Mx-u5i7s1vhRFUz1nIVmydqWtECnwviiKMYgTZk3fay-ZgBdxStpDSaQ0XBoHGYgkrpILJ6b9jqexE0QHQEGm2RA8XbvZLVMoQHoVSi634quau84HZVqOKsGOuA400/s200/chp_colorwheel.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5303827490352746402" border="0" /><div><br /></div><div>I wrote a poem entitled, <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">Let Them Stain Her Face</span>. It's a poem about my mother and her morning routine. I use many senses in my piece but also incorporate little spurts of color into the poem<br /></div><div>to create a setting and a mood. </div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">Let Them Stain Her Face</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"><br /></span></div><div>Steam rises to the top of the old <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">black</span> stove</div><div>creating <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);">brown </span></span>semi-circles</div><div>adding to the mold building around the ran.</div><div>The whistle howls like a wolf in the night.</div><div>My mother enters through the open doorway, the overhang laced with twigs and berries.</div><div><br /></div><div>Printed kitten flannel pants and her favorite Mets hoody,</div><div>curls dripping down her neck, still wet from the bath</div><div>trailing Banana Vanilla down the hallway.</div><div>Her socks, ice-skating over the <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(204, 153, 51);">beig</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(204, 153, 51);">e</span></span> tiled floor</div><div>racing against each other to the screeching black kettle.</div><div><br /></div><div>In the cupboard she reaches for my Grandmothers; sugar bowl</div><div>all the way up to the top shelf, in between the <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);">pink</span></span> Pepto-Bismol bottle and Tums.</div><div>She places it on the <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);">emerald</span></span> marble countertop.</div><div>The <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">opalescent </span>crystals scattered, running from the boiling water.</div><div>My mother grabs a package of <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(204, 51, 204);">lavender</span></span> tea and dips it in a <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0);">green</span></span> travel mug.</div><div><br /></div><div>The scolding water sings from the mouth of the kettle</div><div>steam and <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(204, 51, 204);">lavender</span></span> swirling together</div><div>her delicate hands creep towards the fridge pulling out the Organic Cow</div><div>some new crazy health product she bought</div><div>She pours the silky cream into the mug, creating rings of <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">white</span> and <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);">brown</span></span>.</div><div><br /></div><div>Cupping the mug in both hands she sleep walks towards the marble sink</div><div>she breathes in the aroma through her freshly powered nose</div><div>glances up out the window just in the nick of time.</div><div>She catches the first glimpses of sunbeams peeping their heads through the trees</div><div>staining her face a shade of <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);">Clementine</span></span>. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div>So as you can see my poem incorporates sight, smell, sound and movement. I tried to use color to move the reader along and give the impression of a warm home and create vivid images. </div><div><br /></div><div>In Edgar Allen Poe's work<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">, </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">The Masque of the Red Death<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;">, <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;">Poe uses color as a major focus point. </span></span></span></span></div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;">"There were seven--an imperial suite. In many palaces, however such suites form a long and straight vista, while the folding doors slide back nearly to the wall on either hand, so that the view of the whole extant is scarcely impeded. Here the case was very different; as might have been expected from the duke's love of the 'bizarre.' The apartments were so irregularly disposed that the vision embraced but little more than one at a time. There was a sharp turn at the right and left, in the middle of each wall, a tall and narrow Gothic window looked out upon a closed corridor of which pursued the windings of the suite. These windows were of stained glass whose color varied in accordance with the prevailing hue of the decorations of the chamber into which it opened. That at the easter extremity was hung, for example, in blue-- and vividly blue were its windows. The second chamber was purple in its ornaments and tapestries, and here the panes were purple. The third was green throughout, and so were the casements. The fourth was furnished and lighted with orange-- the fifth was white--the sixth with violet. The seventh apartment was closely shrouded in black velvet tapestries that hung all over the ceiling and down the walls, falling in heavy folds upon a carpet of the same material and hue. But in this chamber only, the color of the windows failed to correspond with the decorations. The panes were scarlet--a deep blood color."</span></span></span></span></div><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 241px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVOEfnAUpotw-CUjKgcct637DvoOs2nZ6_ItpxI8Kx4oKd56lzIElbBWnVdyaSjfmL0v1-fu4i3gif6Usociyg-gERQkWj0bJyjB3th7oAH48WMubLl4HKf_0_4g8yoMUrHDgL3AGFH48/s320/brightly-colored-hotel-room-interiors.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5303828051791756754" border="0" /><div><br /></div><div>The work continues to describe other details, but the details about the rooms themselves are so important to the success of the work. It gives the reader guidance in how to envision the setting and proceed with the story.</div><div><br /></div><div>So now it's your turn. I have given you two examples of pieces that use color. So have fun, don't get frustrated. You don't have to finish it in one sitting. Work on it for a little bit, and then take a break. Read it, re-word it, just make it your own. But most importantly have fun with it! Good luck, happy writing!</div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"><br /></span></div><div><br /></div>Jenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06369709706666596260noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3948250503161981775.post-54164405613877781012009-02-09T08:59:00.000-08:002009-02-09T11:30:56.657-08:00Welcome To Write Away<span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:180%;" >Welcome Writers!</span></span><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /><br /><span style="font-size:100%;"> My name is Jen and I'm here to help you tap into your creative side. My blog will provide you with new and old poetry forms, writing exercises, and my own pers</span></span><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-size:100%;">onal writings. We will also examine certain techniques famous writers have used and why they work </span></span><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-size:100%;">well. We'll look at certain works from Edgar Allen Poe, Emily Dickinson, Silva Plath and more!</span></span><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /><br /> As a Communications major and an English minor I have taken many classes that have improved my writing skills and strengthen my passion for writing in general in which I hope to pass onto you.</span></span><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-size:100%;"> What I really want to help you accomplish is how to use your imagination and to re-find the child in all of us.<br /></span></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWMUpY3CHTTwRBsFNEQnPqR9zM337IunWPin3nM7v3xcVA3i0XlOhEGr7kkPKVK-7rQDwNZfnZTBjQAj0B2I_RHeW4FLAxDw5agZUa33ANFdT-4tc5BvGu9xKi0EYQp_8AcmDuCNu_5JQ/s1600-h/Painty-hands.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 242px; height: 223px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWMUpY3CHTTwRBsFNEQnPqR9zM337IunWPin3nM7v3xcVA3i0XlOhEGr7kkPKVK-7rQDwNZfnZTBjQAj0B2I_RHeW4FLAxDw5agZUa33ANFdT-4tc5BvGu9xKi0EYQp_8AcmDuCNu_5JQ/s320/Painty-hands.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5300879886883602226" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-size:100%;"> Feel free to comment on my work and also don't be afraid to post your own! It doesn't have to be limited to writing either, feel free to post art work and photos if that's your muse. If you want helpful tips about your work let me know, we'll work together to make your work the best it can be.<br /><br /> My best advice...don't get frustrated. Writing is a difficult skill and it takes time; you will work on a piece love it and then go back to it a few days later and rewrite the whole thing. That's why it's so important that you write regularly, keep reworking your drafts, and experiment with new techniques. A poem or short story will eventually shape itself, you just need to help push it in the right direction.<br /><br /> I'm excited to get started and hear feedback from you all! Good luck and good writing! Pick those pencils up and GO!<br /></span></span>Jenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06369709706666596260noreply@blogger.com2