15
May

Blog 3: creative poem

Tears

Tears,

everywhere

join into a puddle.

more tears are coming,

welcome by a soft bounce.

Force that pulls them downward,

begins to carry them to the forest below

battling against trees,

they flow evenly,

Others join the once frequently

they reach a moving puddle: a little stream

join it. Takes them further down, now to the meadow

past grass, past trees, past earth, nothing can stop them now except

a still wall. It gazes at them from far away, tempting to go and be trapped.

but they do not choose their way, Dragged, embraced, they move towards

the river. It gazes serene and patient, a dream, a passion: to join the river. They had

not understood that the sea is the river´s culmination: the infinite flow of tears around the world.

until….

the sun.

new tears floating in the light

in the mountain

once again…

This poem is literaly about the journey of a river, from beginning to end. I used mainly structure and diction to portray the journey. The important words refer to water (puddle, stream, river, sea, tears), but there is also a calmed feeling through most of the poem. Words such as “flow, serene, patient” all enhance the calm present throughout the poem. Even though the water references to flow and serenity are present, the river has some strong characteristics, such as in the end of the third stanza, where the water says it can´t be stopped. There is also a moment at the beginning of the third stanza that shows how the flow of water is interupted by trees and slowed down.

The poem also presents a progression that is complemented with the structure. At first, the river is almost insignificant, a group of tears. The stanzas at this point in the poem are short, about three words, but gradually increase in size. The structure is mostly related to the progress of the river. When the stream reaches the river, the stanzas become significantly larger until they reach the sea. It is at this point that the poem changes. The “until…” makes an interruption along with the break that signals a change. This change represents the cycle of tears, being temporarily evaporated, only to become tears again.

As for the figurative content of the poem, I wanted to represent a growing ache, in which the sadness began to accumulate until it reaches a breaking point that represents the culmination or repression of temporary sadness. The poem is an extended metaphor of sadness in a person, how it accumulates and how it becomes a cycle. There are points in which the feeling of sorrow is tried to calm down, but is never actually ceases to grow, like in the third stanza.

15
May

BLOG 1: redemption XD

I got inspired by my inability to  express my thoughts in the last poem, so I created this short narrative to do so. It also relates to the excercise we made about Memory for Forgetfulness and how feelings surge out of events such as war.

The explosive waltz of infinitely slow tempo. The shells striking against the earth in the distance resemble the New York symphony at its finest. Each shell is a note, a note in a symphony. It has a tempo, barely, but it does. The tuba, the bass drum, the trumpet. They are all from New York. Why is it that some people hear and see war as a symphony, while others see it as chaos? Why? It is a symphony of death. I hear it every night: the different tunes, octaves and tempos that compose a masterpiece. The day in which New York told us they were to send their symphony to our country. Since then, I’ve heard compositions about love, hate, agony and joy. It is an ever-changing symphony of different rythims, styles and feelings. Our people have become so familiar with the melodies, that they are practically recited every day.

We´ve come to a conclusion. We will send our own symphony, even if the flutes aren’t as new as theirs or our drums as tuned as theirs. They will have to get used to our melodies as well. Two symphonies with two different composers. One is the struggle of capitalism: John Williams at its best. The other, a masterful interpretation of Borodin. Both will exist simultaneously, their tempo´s clashing, or working together.

Until the symphony ends, our ears shall hear, and our mouths shall sing to the tune of the shells hitting the ground, of the flutes, the trumpets, the trombones and the drums.

15
May

BLog 2: Ney Yorker short story

THE INVASION FROM OUTER SPACE

by Steven Millhauser

http://www.newyorker.com/fiction/features/2009/02/09/090209fi_fiction_millhauser?currentPage=1

The short story narrates the occurrence of an invasion, as the title says. It begins stating how media and humans had become familiar to the idea of an invasion due to movies, books and television. He also shows how we expected something great: death, spaceships and intelligent life forms. The interesting thing about this narration, however, is that it criticizes these expectations and human behavior towards aliens. When the object is first seen by the pentagon, people rush out to the streets to observe what happens, curious, yet scared. However, they soon realize that the invader is not an intelligent life form, a spaceship or a mass murderer, but it rather is a unicellular organism that only reproduces itself and grows in number. This “yellow dust” is an ironical symbol by the author that criticizes human expectations. As the narrator says, the dust only reproduces. It is not dangerous; it does not do anything but grow. The narrator thus states how the expectations were shattered, explaining and asking if humans deserved something else, like a organism that wanted to protect them, explain the meaning of life or do something significant.

The narration does not include much literary features. Perhaps the most important one is present when he describes the white dust as “points of gold. Then it was coming down on us, like fine pollen, like yellow dust.” This description presents the ironic aspect of the story because it presents the dust as a mysterious and surprising when in fact; it is harmless and somehow uninteresting. Another mayor description only occurs when the narrator describes the types or monsters that would have been more “enjoyable” than the dust, or when the narrator describes the typical scene of life with the dust spread everywhere. These descriptions emphasize the ironic feeling of the short story in different ways. The descriptions of the monsters showed the desire of humans to feel the thrill of an invasion, while the description of the dust filled city showed the monotonous and discontent feeling towards the dust.

The narrator does hint to the end of the human race at the end because he says how it is “really quite peacefull.” It is also ironic because despite showing how the dust could kill everyone, the fact that it was not interesting or thrilling did not make people concerned about it.

30
Mar

Ode to Basil

When I went to the grocery store, I saw you there, in the herbs section. I walked up to you, saw and depicted your shape. Your size. Your color. I then plucked one of your leaves. Felt your texture. Your toughness or lack thereof. But you were tough. The other basil leaves were weak, yellow or black, but you were green. Your aroma was what caught me from isle one. I grab you, smell you. You give a part of yourself for the aroma. The rosemary next to you does not even bother me. It is you that expells that distinct aroma into the monotonous air. Such determination. Such will to survive or be used. I pick the plant that you came from, take it with me. When we reach the register, I ask not to put you in a bag. It will kill you. I take care of you like a newborn. When we reach our home,  I am cooking spaghetti, but not with you. This time, I will eat only tomato. I grab you carefully and take you outside. There is a soft spot in the ground that has been prepared for your arrival. I plant you. Because I did not kill you, you give me your children for my food. Basil, you are the essence of my cuisine and me.

30
Mar

Ode to Basil

When I went to the grocery store, I saw you there, in the vegetables section. I walk up to you, saw and depicted your shape. Your size. Your color. I then plucked one of your leaves. Felt your texture. Your toughness or lack thereof. But you were tough. The other basil leaves were weak and yellow, but you were green. Your aroma was what caught me from isle one. I grab you, smell you. You give a part of yourself for the aroma. Such determination. Such will to survive or be used. I pick your bunch, take it with me. When we reach the register, I ask not to put you in a bag. It will kill you. I am cooking spaghetti, but not with you. This time, I will eat only tomato. I grab you carefully and take you outside. There is a soft spot in the ground that has been prepared for your arrival. I plant you. Because I did not kill you, you give me your children for my food. Basil, you are the essence of my cuisine and me.

26
Mar

Journal 3, French Horn

FRENCH HORN

by Jane HirshfieldFEBRUARY 9, 2009

For a few days only,

the plum tree outside the window

shoulders perfection.

No matter the plums will be small,

eaten only by squirrels and jays.

I feast on the one thing, they on another,

the shoaling bees on a third.

What in this unpleated world isn’t someone’s seduction?

The boy playing his intricate horn in Mahler’s Fifth,

in the gaps between playing,

turns it and turns it, dismantles a section,

shakes from it the condensation

of human passage. He is perhaps twenty.

Later he takes his four bows, his face deepening red,

while a girl holds a viola’s spruce wood and maple

in one half-opened hand and looks at him hard.

Let others clap.

These two, their ears still ringing, hear nothing.

Not the shouts of bravo, bravo,

not the timpanic clamor inside their bodies.

As the plum’s blossoms do not hear the bee

nor taste themselves turned into storable honey

by that sumptuous disturbance.

French Horn is a poem by Jane Hishfield that deals with one´s accomplishments. The poem is made of one stanza that has twenty three lines. The poem begins with the description of a plum tree. The speaker of the poem expresses his thoughts on such. The speaker tells the reader how the tree “shoulders perfection”, which shows signs of admiration towards such. Then he explains how other animals see the tree. The squirrels and the jays along with the bees take advantage of the plums and the flower blossoms to feed themselves. The speaker questions “what in this unpleated world isn`t someone`s seduction?” With this line, he questions the nature of animals and of everything in general. He also states how he “feast[s] on one thing, they on another, the shoaling birds on a third”, which demonstrates his view of the tree. His view on the tree is that it is perfect and admires its beauty, without being seduced by its advantages. To prove the point that everyone graces from another`s greatness, the author introduces the boy and his French horn. The speaker describes the “intricate horn in Mahler`s Fifth”, which is a connection to the perfection present in the plum tree. The speaker then explains how the boy “shakes [the horn] from the condensation/ of human passage.” This description is again a parallel to the plum tree because it describes the use of an object for a gain, this time a human`s musical interpretation. The girl that is later introduced represents the negative aspect of being opportunist. The boy´s “four bows” and his deepening red face are details that show the will of the boy to take credit. The girl`s response is to “look at him hard/ [to] let others clap”, which shows the jealous reaction towards the boy`s “fame”. Finally, the speaker mentions how the “plum`s blossoms do not hear the bee/ nor taste themselves turned into storable honey/ by the sumptuous disturbance”. This description makes the final connection needed to understand the poem, because it shows how the artist (the plum), will not brag about his accomplishments (blossoms, fruits).

This poem has several aspects that contribute to the theme of modesty. Perhaps one of the most important aspects is images and auditory references. In line 19, the reference to “bravo, bravo” enhances the compliments given by the public to the boy. His “face deepening red” also expands upon his lack of modesty, because the event is presented in a more explicit way. The “viola`s spruce and maple/ in one half-opened hand” present the girl as a contributor to the boy´s success. However, she is not as arrogant as the boy, but rather becomes angry because of it.

The structure of the poem is somewhat unusual in the sense that there is a constant presence of enjambments, all of which make the poem seem as fragmentized sentences. If the first three lines are joined, for example, they form a grammatically correct and logical sentence. These enjambments or the lack of such in certain lines, emphasize the message of such. In line 17, the phrase “Let other clap” is finalized by a period, which emphasizes the ideas of the character. Besides the punctuation, the phrase is the only in the line, and unlike the rest, is irregularly short.

The tone of the poem is resent because the speaker appears to dislike those who act arrogantly. He even questions such arrogant actions with his question in line 8. The mood that is formed is somewhat pathetic because the reader shows has feelings of compassion towards the “arrogant” in the poem.

25
Mar

Aperture analysis Journal 2

Aperture is a poem that describes the environment of a crowd and an individual in different situations. My idea of this poem was to create a poem that could be analyzed in two different ways, depending in how the person knows my hobbies. For this poem, much of what Mario stated was correct. In one way, the metal discs, the plastic and the windows do represent a drum set´s description. In the poem, there are multiple references to music. The wooden sticks and the constant vibration, along with punctuation and structure are arranged in a way that complements what is happening. For example, in the fourth and fifth stanzas, there is a regular structure that goes along with the will of the people to hear the music. In the fifth stanza, however, the “until” and the space between stanzas enhance the pause and suspense in the poem.

However, what I want to address about this poem is its other nature. I wanted to create a war poem due to our recent reading of a war related memoir. It is somewhat difficult to pick the details to point to the fact that there is a war going on. The first thing is the rock that destroys the window because it provides a sense of conflict. This event, however, is overshadowed by the magnitude of the music present in the poem. Again, in the third stanza, there is the reference to another object vibrating, this time protruding a wall. It is not explicit that it is a metal disc, or that it is sound that protrudes the wall. It is my attempt to create the image of a shell hitting and damaging the wall of the building (See Lissy`s pictures of Beirut). The neighbor´s gathering can be either perceived as an open concert or as an expedition force that assess damage. The fearless situation is more likely to demonstrate the influence of music in life, but the final metal piece is the culmination of such, which can be tragic or joyous, depending if viewed as a drum part, or as a shell.

In creating a poem, I have to highlight the difficulty of such task. Perhaps the most difficult things that an author can do are to create bilateral points of view of the poem. How the structure and punctuation are put is not as difficult, but requires time. Making a poem, is thus a process that I have not even begun to master so excuse me if some of the themes I want to portray are not very evident.

25
Mar

Aperture

Aperture, by Robert Newcomb

metal discs vibrate.

plastic vibrates.

windows vibrate.

a rock destroys the window,

but it continues to vibrate.

two wooden sticks move

rhythmically.

another metal object vibrates,

this time, protruding a wall.

everything continues to vibrate

the neighbors wonder around

they gather around to listen

continuation

a large crowd gathers around

they listen now with ease

they are fearless for a moment

until

another metal piece strikes

25
Mar

Journal 1 Lifebed Analysis

In the first, sentence, the author presents the conflict, which is the unexplained struggle of the main character. The main character says how it is a “typical, not strange, common” struggle, which uses repetition in order to enhance the character´s view on his struggle. He enters a building while “detached” from his environment. Early in the story, the main character is in a conflict which he can not apparently control, but that is vague to the reader. When he talks about the coming of the angels and how their “purpose [is] to do well”, he questions the duty of angels. This foreshadows the story because it brings upon the topic of destiny, either the death or life of the great man.

When the character enters the building, there is further insight in what the situation is. Inside the building, there is a great part of his family present, all of them having “anguished faces.” The author then introduces the main conflict. The main character wonders how can “a great man fall” and be “lost.” The author uses diction and the contrast it creates to form a gloomy mood. By contrasting the great man and his loss or fall, the author introduces the importance of the man towards the main character. The anguished faces, along with the words “lost” and “fall”, all enhance the gloomy mood of the story. As the story progresses, the reader gets more insight on the situation of the man. The fact that he is taking medicines and is lying in bed is described by the main character as his mistake, and an impossible event.

Perhaps the most important aspect of the story is the main character`s perspective of the situation. His feelings are contrasted frequently. From his “typical” conflict, to his “shattering” world, there is an inner conflict that is presented throughout the whole story. The description of his thoughts and actions enhance his inner struggle. An example of such is when he blinks “for a second longer”, which demonstrates how the conflict influences in the character`s state of mind and perception of time..When he says how “[he] opens his eyes again, no one noticed”, his determination to hide his true feelings are known, and are enhanced by other situations in the story. The character also demonstrates how despite of wanting to be “detached” and “stoic”, his thoughts and feeling express symptoms of guilt. Similarly, the main character seems to be describing insignificant details, such as the white and black squares, which prove such detachment, yet he also describes regret about his relationship towards the man.

The author also uses syntax to enhance the conflict of the main character. By using incomplete sentences, the state of mind of the main character is shown as disturbed. Sentences such as “Polished and gleaming, some not all, they laid there”, describe in an unusual and rather paused way the environment. With the syntax, which is paused, the author achieves to make the narration pause with the character. Along with repetition, these sentences portray the mental state of the main character.

I have arrived to the conclusion, therefore that the theme of the story is the guilt of death. It could also be the repression of guilt.

25
Mar

Lifebed, by Juan Dent, 2009

Lifebed

A struggle. Typical, not strange, common.

The angels were coming. Their purpose to do good, yet was it our good?

I watched, detached. At the frame of the door I stood. Between the white squares and the black wooden blocks. Polished and gleaming, some not all, they laid there.

I entered, my mother at my back, my grandmother next to the bed. Accompanied by her daughter and her daughter-in-law, my uncle and my cousin. Anguished faces placed the mask over their faces, concealing. A family of secrets, but that’s beside the point. What is the point, I ask myself as I look around. How can so much have changed? How can a great man fall, how can a great man be lost? This is not him. This is not the strong figure I knew. It’s not him. Yet it is, the man with the lost thoughts. The man whose thoughts I never got to share, know.

I feel breaking. I feel tearing. Yet, stoic, a true member of my family I hide.

I turn my back to the mirror in front of the bed. My back towards the illusion.

My mother holds me. I move my arm around her, provide comfort. Talk begins, the usual type of talk. That which distracts. That frivolous talk present in these occasions. One that is not a stranger to my ears. Ignoring it I stay still. The room I notice is painted in two, rich red and a pale white. Cracks on both of them, which would give in first? Was their purpose red or white? As if that mattered, now. I should ask would it take the shell, the parasite, or the baby.

I closed my eyes, for a second longer than a blink.

The world shatters and it comes to me. I had wasted it, it is now gone. Face reality, the consequence. My legs weaken and my restraint falters. I open my eyes again, no one noticed. With seemingly bored eyes I looked around.

The nurse does his job and gives him medicines. She sits down and holds his hand, tears on the verge of flowing down a similar canal. Four months. So fast I think. Four months have passed. What should have taken 20 years has taken 4 months. I cannot grasp it, I was wrong. I was ignorant, a fool. A passive face to disguise the conflict.

The parasite dies, the baby and the shell live. However, a part of me is trapped. Present but not there, lost but found. I knew that I paid a price, which would cost me. It did. With redemption available would I make the most of it?




 

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