HAPPY BELATED BIRTHDAY!!

Sarah! We're all idiots and forgot to wish you a happy birthday! We were so caught up in the Poem-In-A-Pocket craziness... gah!

So from the writing tutors:

*in an obnoxious, off-key chorus*

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOOOU
HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOOOOOOOU
HAPPY BIRTHDAY, DEAR SARAH...
HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOOOOOOOOOOOOOOU!

Recessional

Here is poem by Rudyard Kipling, one of only two poets that I really enjoy.

http://www.kipling.org.uk/poems_recess.htm

Risky Poetry

D*mn psychoanalysis for making poetry so risky to share, lol! Perhaps (and, oh, the irony of even that word!) my favorite poem is an old old old classic linked here.






I hope each of you continue to dare. Dare to sing to the mermaids . . . to disturb the universe . . .

Poetry by Don Paterson

Thanks to all that posted and will post. I think this has been a successful project thus far. Poetry. Poems. Oh, how I fret. I have written quite a few, yet I do not feel like sharing. I am not quite that daring. I think there is a poet in all of us...somewhere.

This is a sonnet about poetry.


Poetry

In the same way that the mindless diamond keeps
one spark of the planet's early fires
trapped forever in its net of ice,
it's not love's later heat that poetry holds,
but the atom of the love that drew it forth
from the silence: so if the bright coal of his love
begins to smolder, the poet hears his voice
suddenly forced, like a bar-room singer's -- boastful
with his own huge feeling, or drowned by violins;
but if it yields a steadier light, he knows
the pure verse, when it finally comes, will sound
like a mountain spring, anonymous and serene.

Beneath the blue oblivious sky, the water
sings of nothing, not your name, not mine.



Copyright 1999 by Don Paterson. All rights reserved.

Poetry = ?

Merriam-Webster has this to say:

"Poetry-a literary work in which special intensity is given to the expression of feelings and ideas by the use of distinctive style and rhythm"

With this in mind, I have decided to post the song I am most proud of writing.

It can be heard here

Synapse Fire

Emotion.
He loads his shells into his gun.
He loads his words for everyone
with unappreciated artistry.
Audience.
He looks out at upholstered crowds,
and figures that loitering doubt
tastes good with vacancy.
Discouraged.
There’s no substance to his minor chords,
and all his lyrics can afford
are drunks and apathetic friends; distant relatives.

But still he sketches out his soul in scribbles,
convinced the best mirrors are college ruled.
Synapse fire aimed at legal notepads,
Ammunition built from vocabulary.
Oh, how they’d carry the casualties
out of the range of the microphone;
over the radio.

‘Cause he’s heard the radio has a personality
and he says “I could dream bigger with that kind of reach.
Oh, I’d fill 800 square miles of corn and kidney beans,
and if no one’s listening,
at least I won’t be staring at these empty seats.”

One of my favorite poems...

This is one of my favorite poems which has stuck with me over the years. I love Tennyson's poems and this particular masterpiece of his has an appealling and intriguing metaphor which I think, at some point in our lives, we may all experience. It's an experience of emotion, life, wisdom, and an unyielding drive to a new uncharted horizon which awaits us all.

Enjoy,

-Kyle

Click on the link below to read the poem:

http://www.eecs.harvard.edu/~keith/poems/Ulysses.html

Hello! My name is Jessica. When I found out about this blog posting, I became very excited to see the results of what others would post. The reason for my excitement is due to the fact that I just recently got involved in the world of poetry. Up until a few quarters ago, I tended to stray away from reading or writing poetry. I think one of the reasons for my distance of poetry was because I didn't fully understand it. Like most children, I grew up reading Shel Silverstein and loving every silly poem of his that I could get my hands on. As I grew older, however, poetry didn't seem to entice me anymore. The older I got the more I was led to believe that poetry had to be overly analyzed in order to understand it. After taking a poetry class offered at OU-C, I came to find that this is a common conclusion for many students. We are taught to look at poetry in such depth that the word "poem" sometimes scares us. The act of solely reading a poem for enjoyment can be pushed to the back burner at times. Fortunately, I also learned from this class how to view poetry in a non-threatening way. Poetry has many aspects to it. Poetry can be humorous and silly or sincere and emotional. It is meant to be pleasing to the reader. Thanks to that class and the instructor, I now see poetry in a brand new light. I actually find satisfaction in not only reading poems but writing them too. A year ago I would have never dreamt of saying these words let alone reading poems on my own free will.
Now, I am not a seasoned poet by any means. I am an amateur in every way. Even though this is the case for me, I am going to share a poem I wrote. It was the first poem that I had ever written outside of middle school. While I am nervous about posting something personal, I am also excited. Since I am new to the Writing Center, I selected this poem to give insight into who I am. I thought this poem would be a great way to introduce myself.
I suggest other students give this type of personal poetry, maybe even this exact format, a try. Believe me it really is interesting and fun to see what you come up with. It is also a simple, yet wonderful, way to test the waters of your poetry skills (for amateurs like me) ; ). Here it is-- enjoy!

Origins
I am from hand-me-down clothes,
Reebok shoes and line-drying.
I am from shutters trimmed in green paint,
A wooden porch swing stained and hanging
Always in use during the spring and summer months.

I am from weeping willow trees
And patches of daisies,
Both reminders of the internal
And external splendor of my mother.

I am from hunts for the perfect live Christmas tree,
Hiking trails and camping trips.
I am from McKinnis' and Henson's,
Margaret and Mabel,
Loving, thoughtful, and from the heart.

I am from fairytales and bedtime stories,
Nightly tuck-ins and "don't let the bedbugs bite".
I am from family get-togethers--
Cousins, aunts and uncles included.

I am from "never met a stranger"
And "use your imagination".
I am from saying your prayers before you eat;
"God doesn't judge and neither should you";
"Love thy neighbor even when you don't want to".

I am from tea parties with my mom,
"Would you like crumpets with that?"
Concerts with my dad,
Occasional meet-n-greets with the bands.

I am from Columbus, Ohio,
A mixed breed--
German, Cherokee Indian, Dutch, and Irish.
I am from Bratwurst and Sauerkraut,
Peanut butter and pickle sandwiches.

I am from Sunday dinners,
Tuesday family game nights.
I am from scrapbooks of pictures
Beautifully displayed for all to see.

I am from unconditional love
And eternal family bonds.
I am from those moments--
A patch from the family quilt,
Held together by stitches of memories,
Another added every day.

Slam Poetry!

Thank you, Deb! I didn't even think about posting slam poetry, but your post reminded me of it. I absolutely love slam poetry. Go to YouTube and do a search for it... there are thousands to choose from. I'm posting links to two of my favorites. I apologize ahead of time for some (possibly) offensive language.

• Untitled by Anis Mojgani (this performance won him the 2005 Slam Nationals)
• "Nothing is for Nothing" by Jill Scott (on Def Jam Poetry)

Let me know what you think!