“Concession Stand”
The attendants admitted each individual into
the machine, shaking the box to extricate the last
seed stuck in the corner crease,
check the box for last minute warnings,
and press play.
Heated together in the metal pan,
the popcorn explodes out of bounds
like gunfire in a robot war, shells rebounding off of sides.
Later, the people poured into the theater,
Echoing round kernels confined in copper sheen skin
Smile and chatter as they clatter together, each pushing into position.
As the play unfolded in front of them, a hundred ears pricked to hear
The expressions on the actors’ faces and thoughts begin
To rustle and jump, agitated into movement.
The climactic scene ends
In a rush of heat; the audience stands
Applause exploding out of clapping hands.
Like the corn in its copper kettle
Compliments land in satisfied stomachs.
01.29.09
Thursday, January 29, 2009
sound image
“Concession Stand”
The attendants admitted each individual into
the machine, shaking the box to extricate the last
seed stuck in the corner crease,
check the box for last minute warnings,
and press play.
Heated together in the metal pan,
the popcorn explodes out of bounds
like gunfire in a robot war, shells rebounding off of sides.
Later, the people poured into the theater,
Echoing round kernels confined in copper sheen skin
Smile and chatter as they clatter together, each pushing into position.
As the play unfolded in front of them, a hundred ears pricked to hear
The expressions on the actors’ faces and thoughts begin
To rustle and jump, agitated into movement.
The climactic scene ends
In a rush of heat; the audience stands
Applause exploding out of clapping hands.
Like the corn in its copper kettle
Compliments land in satisfied stomachs.
01.29.09
The attendants admitted each individual into
the machine, shaking the box to extricate the last
seed stuck in the corner crease,
check the box for last minute warnings,
and press play.
Heated together in the metal pan,
the popcorn explodes out of bounds
like gunfire in a robot war, shells rebounding off of sides.
Later, the people poured into the theater,
Echoing round kernels confined in copper sheen skin
Smile and chatter as they clatter together, each pushing into position.
As the play unfolded in front of them, a hundred ears pricked to hear
The expressions on the actors’ faces and thoughts begin
To rustle and jump, agitated into movement.
The climactic scene ends
In a rush of heat; the audience stands
Applause exploding out of clapping hands.
Like the corn in its copper kettle
Compliments land in satisfied stomachs.
01.29.09
Tuesday, January 27, 2009
Simile and Metaphor
Today's assignment: "Write a brief seven-to-ten-line poem with an abstract title (Loneliness, Fear, Desire, Ecstasy, Greed, Suffering, Pleasure). Make the poem a metaphor for the title, without using the abstraction in the poem.
I worked a bit harder on this one than the last few. Just coming up with a decent idea took some time. As I sat looking out the window trying to think of something that meant loneliness to me, I saw one of those blinking lights that sit on top of radio transmitting towers. If sitting all alone in the fog where your sole purpose in life is to warn others away from you isn't lonely I don't know what is.
So, I thought I'd research the progression of man-made lights/lanterns from burning moss to LED lights. I had also earlier thought of the Greek/Roman myth about Prometheus, a Titan who stole fire from the gods in power to give to the humans on earth. In punishment he was chained to a mountain and every day Zeus (technically, his nephew) sent an eagle to eat out his liver. As an immortal being, the liver would grow back and he could not die, but it still hurt, supposedly. Eventually, Hercules kills the eagle as part of his legend, but the rescue happens after his famous twelve labors. I'm giving this context because I tried to reference it continually in the poem. We'll see what my professor has to say about that.
Oh, and along the way, I changed my abstract idea from Loneliness to Futility to Progress.
Without further ado, here is my poem for today:
"Progress"
Ancient ages ago humans loaned fire from the sky and hid
warmth within lanterns of hallowed stone. Once a section of
dusty shelf between bookends of time, each day became our
annuity. Synthetic suns advised, “Early to bed, early to rise,”
and we stopped sleeping.
Over eons our light moved from terra cotta jars to kerosene pools and metal
doodles trapped in glass bulbs. Office lights flicker a fluorescent S.O.S. over
cubicles that devour inner organs, shredding creativity into eternal monotony.
A dreaded dozen labors circle like the eagle, come to collect the compounded
consequence of stealing the night from ourselves.
01.27.09
I worked a bit harder on this one than the last few. Just coming up with a decent idea took some time. As I sat looking out the window trying to think of something that meant loneliness to me, I saw one of those blinking lights that sit on top of radio transmitting towers. If sitting all alone in the fog where your sole purpose in life is to warn others away from you isn't lonely I don't know what is.
So, I thought I'd research the progression of man-made lights/lanterns from burning moss to LED lights. I had also earlier thought of the Greek/Roman myth about Prometheus, a Titan who stole fire from the gods in power to give to the humans on earth. In punishment he was chained to a mountain and every day Zeus (technically, his nephew) sent an eagle to eat out his liver. As an immortal being, the liver would grow back and he could not die, but it still hurt, supposedly. Eventually, Hercules kills the eagle as part of his legend, but the rescue happens after his famous twelve labors. I'm giving this context because I tried to reference it continually in the poem. We'll see what my professor has to say about that.
Oh, and along the way, I changed my abstract idea from Loneliness to Futility to Progress.
Without further ado, here is my poem for today:
"Progress"
Ancient ages ago humans loaned fire from the sky and hid
warmth within lanterns of hallowed stone. Once a section of
dusty shelf between bookends of time, each day became our
annuity. Synthetic suns advised, “Early to bed, early to rise,”
and we stopped sleeping.
Over eons our light moved from terra cotta jars to kerosene pools and metal
doodles trapped in glass bulbs. Office lights flicker a fluorescent S.O.S. over
cubicles that devour inner organs, shredding creativity into eternal monotony.
A dreaded dozen labors circle like the eagle, come to collect the compounded
consequence of stealing the night from ourselves.
01.27.09
Wednesday, January 21, 2009
some poet
Since I am in a poetry writing class this semester, I foresee a significant increase in my poem production rate. I thought I'd post them here as I write them for anyone who cares to read.
The first day of class our teacher asked us to think about an abstract question that we might have been carrying around in our minds lately and then to write it down on a piece of paper. After that, we folded it in half and passed it one person to our right. After writing a random object on the bottom half of the paper, we passed it once more to our right. Our assignment was then to write a poem connecting the two seemingly unrelated phrases. This is how mine turned out:
The Audience Ponders
In what language to musicians think?
Sitting together under stage lights,
Writing alone in some back corner,
Banging pots together in the early evening,
Waiting on the pavement for someone else to notice
The smell before the rain.
01.15.09
This was the assignment due in class yesterday, where you had to pick one thing you love and another that you hate, then write a poem connecting the two.
Natives
The exoskeleton of darkened glass and metal hides the rider,
But cannot stop whispered words of war suggested by painted cheeks
Or the oversized tires humming a tom-tom beat on the road.
Leather second skin covers my feet, and the smooth sides echo
Every other pair, modern clones of a culture preserved by the brains
of men
Who confine life to pottery shards and mock scenes of home.
How will future generations piece together our devotion to off-road
vehicles,
Or our own assembly line of stitched leather slippers for the fashion
tribe?
01.20.09
The first day of class our teacher asked us to think about an abstract question that we might have been carrying around in our minds lately and then to write it down on a piece of paper. After that, we folded it in half and passed it one person to our right. After writing a random object on the bottom half of the paper, we passed it once more to our right. Our assignment was then to write a poem connecting the two seemingly unrelated phrases. This is how mine turned out:
The Audience Ponders
In what language to musicians think?
Sitting together under stage lights,
Writing alone in some back corner,
Banging pots together in the early evening,
Waiting on the pavement for someone else to notice
The smell before the rain.
01.15.09
This was the assignment due in class yesterday, where you had to pick one thing you love and another that you hate, then write a poem connecting the two.
Natives
The exoskeleton of darkened glass and metal hides the rider,
But cannot stop whispered words of war suggested by painted cheeks
Or the oversized tires humming a tom-tom beat on the road.
Leather second skin covers my feet, and the smooth sides echo
Every other pair, modern clones of a culture preserved by the brains
of men
Who confine life to pottery shards and mock scenes of home.
How will future generations piece together our devotion to off-road
vehicles,
Or our own assembly line of stitched leather slippers for the fashion
tribe?
01.20.09
Sunday, January 18, 2009
Giving You Some Context
So, some of y'all are friends of my mother (redorgray's ELK), and some of you are my mother. I am just grateful for this place to communicate with my family and with the greater blog-world. My post is nothing too profound today; just some pictures from throughout my third college year.
This is my room last semester; my roommate had her bed over in the right corner, out of sight here.
And this is a rather terrible picture of my room this semester, with my bed on the left where the fridge used to be, and my roomie's on the right, where mine used to be.
Here's a better view of my bed,
my desk by the window now,
and one crazy amazing early birthday present!
And finally, the updated pictures of my family.
For a better look, come and visit. : )
I love y'all!
This is my room last semester; my roommate had her bed over in the right corner, out of sight here.
And this is a rather terrible picture of my room this semester, with my bed on the left where the fridge used to be, and my roomie's on the right, where mine used to be.
Here's a better view of my bed,
my desk by the window now,
and one crazy amazing early birthday present!
And finally, the updated pictures of my family.
For a better look, come and visit. : )
I love y'all!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)