Sunday, June 23, 2013

Emma Kaufman's Final Four Poems

 (Image Poem)
 Baby Brother

He lit bottle rockets and I caught fireflies
At the cabin, in the middle of no where
He’d still prove his mind, sharper than ever
my brother was always the smartest person in my life.
And even there, in the middle of no where
He’d read Russian classics and study chess
Inventing ways to keep rain out of our forest forts
I could see him see me
As he asked questions like
“How could you think of that?”
As if I had a fact he didn’t already
Our brains, running in different directions
I never thought I could offer him anything
And yet the mosquitoes at night, eating my family alive
Gooey marshmallows sticking to our faces
I could feel him watching me
Like the spider monkey exhibit at the zoo
And suddenly I knew
Despite my sad excuse for an academic mind
He was learning something



 (Performance Poem)
A Duet

We spend too much time doing things
I think, that are most of the time
not worth it.
We work and we eat
We breathe and we sleep
Planning our futures
and when those plans fail
, we freak out
And waste so much time freaking out
We forget we’re going to survive
The next day, all the same.
There are ways to remember this, I think
to know you’re okay
to know you’re alive
and not totally controlled by the world around you
To experience things
perhaps places, perhaps people
that make your heart stop.
Well isn’t that the point anyway?


 (Ekphrasic Poem)
Elephants

A bloody sunrise
Was the backdrop of a fascinating landscape
Sandy plains shown like shadows
In the distance
As an angel landed and began calling to me
“Today” she said “today it all happens”
The tears rolling down her cheeks
And mine
I noticed the temple
Within the shadows of the plains
And I heard chirping
At last, the beasts
They came on their stilts
Eyes full of fire
Their backs burdened with nothing
But floating artifacts
And ivy plants
She ran to me
As the sky became day

 http://www.wallsave.com/wallpapers/1920x1080/dali/285501/dali-salvador-elephants-285501.jpg

(Ghazal Poem) 
Daddy
Growing up a princess, he was there
My hand was always held, and he was there
The bubble gum and the shoes I couldn’t tie
The countless crayons I broke and the knees that bled, and he was there
Eskimo kisses and prayers before bed
The games we played and the books we read, and he was there
Bad grades and boyfriends sooner
Running away and broken hearts, and he was there
Jazz and ripped jeans
His blackbird grown up, and he was there
Messes made my whole life long
The things I’ve blamed on him, and he was there
 

Saturday, June 22, 2013

Raymond Mawst - Ghazal Revision

Deep In Love

I never thought I would be deep in love,
I didn't know how to be deep in love.

I would be seduced by grilled cheese sandwiches,
I loved grilled cheeses but was I deep in love?

There were times when I was in relationships,
I now know I was not deep in love,

For a while I was on a quest to find myself,
I needed to love me before falling deep in love. 

I found a lady sweet as can be,

I can't believe I'm deep in love.



Raymond Mawst - Haiku Video


sunshine unearths growth / summer resurgence of life / comfortable living
winter unearths death / farewell botanical love / I'll see you next spring

spring transitions growth / mentally and physically / all life transitions

Ray Mawst - Ekphrastic Poem



Spring in the Country - Grant Wood 1930

Compacting dirt, I plant row after row.
Bradford pear trees mimic the sky,
and clouds shadow the distance.
These are signs that spring is going
to be staying with us for a while now.
Dad plows the fields trailing behind
a pair of horses, and our eight cows
graze the fields from left to right.

Raymond Mawst - Spoken Research Poem


Pudelhund

My ancestry has an interesting history.
I believe my family tree begins in Germany,
eventually traveling to England and France.
One of my great grandfathers once sat
on the lap of Louis XVI of France.

My oldest ancestors were larger than I am.
They were hunters and gatherers.
They were swimmers.
I on the other hand never go near water.
I am Charlie. Charlie Townsend.

I am only 15 inches from paw to shoulder.
They say I am a phantom.
I am always complimented on my eyebrows.
I am black, and they are highlighted in gray.
Bushy like an old man's.

I am not an apparition.
I am not elusive.
I am not a hunter or gatherer.
I am Charlie.
Please don't touch me.

Final Project Poems!

Persona
 
He is afraid of leaving,
But knows he needs to go
Leave this city forever
And never look back.
He peeks through the crack
In his bedroom door.
The living room is quiet,
As his family has all gone to sleep.
Clutching his suitcase,
He slips out of the house,
Takes off like a thief in the night.
He walks to the train station,
Boarding the last train to the coast.
As the train pulls away,
He never looks back.
He will never return.
He arrives at his destination
Early in the morning.
The sun shines
And the birds sing.
He feels like a new person
Than he was the night before.
He is finally free.
 
 
Twitter Haiku
 
The whistling wind/Rustles the leaves and branches/Makes the night colder.
The tall ocean waves/Wash upon the vast shoreline/During the dark night.

The warm radiant rays/Of the morning rising sun/Light up the whole world.
 
 
Ghazal
 
 
I was sure that my leg would be healed by late May
The days went by and it is now the end of May
 I still am not able to walk and in this chair I stay
All because my leg was not healed by May
 “When will I be better,” I say
 Once again, says the doctor, sometime in May
As night falls and in bed I lay
I just wish I could walk again in May

The morning comes and it is time for June today
But all I can think about is what happened in May
I am starting to wonder if I will ever walk the right way
All because I fell of a roof at the beginning of May
 
Image Poem
 
The summer night dwindles down
With the sound of passing cars on the street.
Their headlights beaming in the still darkness
As they commute home from nightly activities.
The tall oak trees in the background
Cast large shadows on the street
As the streetlights radiate light off of them.
The night carries on
And the street becomes a ghost town.
When the sun comes up, the morning will begin
The street will be a busy circus of cars
Only to do it all again that summer night.
The street is loud by mid-day.
It is a bustle of trucks and cars.
But looking at it come night
Is a peaceful and serene sight.
The cars passing by have no idea
What goes on here when nobody watches.
 
 


Friday, June 21, 2013

Gina Turpin

~Ghazal Poem~
Papaw
By Gina Turpin

He was the man who raised me, not my father, but my grandfather.
He was the man who claimed me, not my father, but my grandfather.

A father brings wisdom and guidance but for me it was Papaw.
He’s was the hand that guided, not my father, but my grandfather.

Papaw was a strong man, a tender man, a bluegrass man, a cabinetmaking man.
He sang his songs to us, not my father, but my grandfather.

He supported me no matter what I did.
He praised me and scolded me, not my father, but my grandfather.

And when it’s time to be thankful for a father on this father’s day.
It will be this man who I called Papaw that I will praise, not my father, but my grandfather
.

___________________________________________________________________
~Persona Poem~
Albert King – Blues Man
By Gina Turpin

I've had hard luck some call it bad luck
I spend my nights in smoky juke-joints and cheap hotels
Leads to the path of a blues man’s life

I can make the angels dance, swing and sway to the rhythm and rhyme
I can stop time for a moment, while my soulful tunes grab your soul
My wailing guitar riffs under pressure they ride high

I am a blues man baby, that’s what I am
I go deep and touch within your soul
I touch your sensual side that makes you fly
It’s your essence I will hold

I got the blues, this morning blues, the lovesick blues
Even the homesick blues through my journey of life
These stories I tell are the essence of my soul
Through the pain I feel the melody of my song

I’m a blues man baby, that’s what I am
Maybe I’m at the cross roads selling my soul
Prayin for the strength to bring the power of my song deep

I tell you my troubles, I got the blues
this morning blues, the lovesick blues
Even the homesick blues

I am a blues man baby, that’s what I am.                                                            
               ___________________________________________________________

The Angel of Grief (also known as Weeping Angel) carved  by William Wetmore Story in 1894, which is located in the Protestant Cemetery in Rome, and its many copies all around the world, especially in the United States.

    ~Ekphrastic Poem~

Angel of Grief
By Gina Turpin

I grieve for those who've lost 
And of those whom I have lost
I hear your cries, I see your tears
Arms made of stone are mine…
I carry it away – the grief
To another place, to find you peace


Every day I see you weep
I carry it away – the grief
You lie before me and I weep
_________________________________________________________________

~Abecedarius Poem~
Overwhelming Woman
By Gina Turpin

Silhouette of a theater actor in a drama performanceAway she flies in to the night
Because her life is too hard to fight
Causing our tensions to rise
Devil is in her path

Excellent notion to consider
Favorable as it would be
Gifting us with her presence
However short it may be
Indecent dreams come her way
Jealousy is in her way
Kindly, reply anyway
Likely she will not reply
Mainly because she’s mean
Naming no names we glare
Oragious is what she seems
Paranoid would be what we call her
Quizzing our every move
Raging her way into the scene
Staying with her is hard to say
Towering over all who stay
Undermining everything
Valuing only what she needs
Wasting away her days until her
Xyster’s scrape our bones away
Yarling her way through the crowd
Zapping away our energy


Monday, June 17, 2013

Final Projectttt

Hey guys! So this blog is awesome and I've read the project instructions, but I'm still kind of confused about how we're supposed to present this. Are we supposed to blog our poems individually and upload videos and links with them? Or is it supposed to be more presentable than that?

Either way I had a few ideas. Since she wants us to in cooperate a variety of medias, what if all four of us tried to utilize four different mediums for all four of our poems! Options I thought of were including pictures pertaining to our poems, sound recordings of us performing our poems, video recordings of us performing our poems, including the twitter/facebook links of people who inspired our poems, including poem animation or decoration... I had trouble coming up with more.

What do you guys think? Would that be too difficult?

(6 days until this is due!)
-Emma

Monday, June 10, 2013

Hey Everyone!
This post marks the beginning of the end of our Creative Writing class! Let's put together some great creative writing and share it with the world!

-Ray