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Showing posts from February, 2018

Dadaist Poem

Should go Blue Line to Washington Stay seated please Continental breakfast Download the app Too dead Fam its not like that Chill chilly weather Oooh wee Total is $16.35 Get it Watch me do that dash Ain't scurrred drift drift Up next Going to be late My card? Now boarding group 3 Pretzels? Don't worry about titles Dance don't stand Lyft is here Thank you again I feel like hell Too cold Welcome to Tampa

List Poem | Fear

I’m scared I’m a fraud. An empty shell of promises. I’m scared I’m a disappointment. Did I leave them all behind? I’m scared of my past. Believing it dictates my future. I’m scared of me. I’m scared this life is not mine. This is my fear, but this is not my life. I’m a thousand mistakes, but I’m more than my fear. I’m eager. I’m free.

Imagist Poems

Sunnyside Up Heat erupts from the surface Crackling smells ignite the senses Golden river oozes free December 16th Shuttered breath. Rattling teeth crack the silence. An icy dawn welcomes the woke. Creative Block A thousand words Rampant mutiny Defiantly fleeing for freedom

Response | January 29th

Ezra Pound: The image is the poet's pigment. The image is not an idea, it is a radiant node or cluster. A vortex through which, and from which, and into which ideas are constantly rushing. It is as true for painting and sculpture as it is for poetry. First say how you determine where to break the lines in your poems, then read and respond to the Edward Hirsh handout (The Line) on how to know where to make line-breaks when creating a poem. 200 word minimum. Due Monday, Feb 5. Personally I would break where it felt necessary to separate out my thoughts when writing. Consistency makes it easy to keep in my rhythm and structure, so typically I aim for making a rule for myself. Being a designer makes me keen on seeking out this. Also, my background and inexperience in poetry also drive me to what feels comfortable–in this case, it's organization. I have yet to break past thinking 5 lines or more is acceptable for poetry. I always tell myself I must aim for under that for each

Good Morning

Sirens pierce the silence Disoriented lying stunned Ripped from the world moments before The screaming culprit lying smug next to us A forceful k.o. shuts up the villain A sliver of light dances across silk sheets Rustling fabrics are met with slow groans A darkness glows orange as the light hits the walls of eyes Quivering frustration they creak open Fighting the weight of gravity No. A defiance is proclaimed mid-struggle Thundering boom ushers in darkness Feathers erupt as a pillow collides with flesh The softest explosion. A joyous crash. Yet in the midst of celebration, an icy chill takes it victim Naked Stripped of shelter All power dismantled Vulnerable in darkness no longer welcoming Like a lightning strike the light forces it's presence Blinded and numb The light melts softly Blurry shapes grow from the white canvas Confusion dissipates as the surroundings become known Amidst the chaos drifts in hope A rich aroma Intoxicating and exciting To