Poetry Matters

Although many people groan at the thought of studying poetry, I truly think it still matters. Poetry is just another art form, another way to look at the world, and poets are just artists that are writing words instead of painting images. As a person who likes to write poetry, I see the world through smatterings of ideas and images and words, and sometimes the only way I can articulate exactly what I've seen is through writing a poem about it.

Through experience, I've seen many a person groan at the thought of studying poetry. Even I did that until a friend showed me what it was like to write my own, and then I decided that Edgar Allan Poe was pretty cool, and I looked into more and more poems that interested me. This isn't always the case, however -- many people simply grit their teeth and try to bear it through rhymes and metaphors. I think that poetry's main place, in today's culture, is in the classroom, though I wish that would change. Like I said before, it's another way to look at the world, and people can always benefit from understanding different viewpoints.

For me, poetry wasn't made interesting until I was shown how to write my own. Even then, I wasn't interested in reading it until I read Edgar Allan Poe, and frankly, even now some poems really just don't do it for me. However, I'm an avid music listener, as are the majority of other people. Music is just poetry set to a melody -- There have been times when I learned poetry by analyzing song lyrics and listening to rappers who have to have certain words at certain times to keep the rhythm going. Maybe the key to reviving poetry is getting people to learn about it through music first, then slowly getting into the classics, instead of diving right into the complicated workings of Shakespeare and Robert Frost.

Iambic Speech

(I've been on a stand up comedy binge and since I couldn't pick up Christopher Titus' new special earlier today -- which was really disappointing -- I decided to watch ones on YouTube, the most recent one being an Ellen DeGeneres one, so here are some excerpts from that particular show called Here and Now. The stressed syllables are in all caps, and the non-stressed are not.) (Also keep in mind that scansion has never been my strong suit and while I hear that we mostly speak in iambic pentameter, but I also hear some sporadic syllables that sneak in there that mess up the rhythm, which I suppose is normal. I don't think speech is exactly one thing 100% of the time.)

1. "Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome Ellen DeGeneres!" (la-DIES and GEN-tle-MEN, please WEL-come EL-len DE-gen-ER-es!)

2. "What a lovely way to start work, thank you very much!" (what A love-LY way to START work, THANK you VER-y MUCH!)

3. "Some of you need to get babysitters, especially if you have kids." (some OF you NEED to GET ba-BY-sit-ers, ES-peciall-Y if YOU have KIDS.)

4. "Now the one thing I think we all have in common is that we want to laugh." (NOW the ONE thing I THINK we ALL have in COM-mon is THAT we WANT to LAUGH.)

5. "When there's something I'm supposed to do, I'll do anything other than the one thing I'm supposed to do." (When there's SOME-thing I'M SUP-posed TO do, i'll DO an-Y-thing O-ther than the ONE thing I'M SUP-posed to DO.)

6. "Why should I pay a stranger to listen to me talk when I can get strangers to pay to listen to me talk?" (WHY should I pay a STRANG-er to LIST-en to ME talk when I can GET STRANG-ers to PAY to LIST-en to ME talk?)

7. "What kind of job is that to come up with the names for paint colors?" (what KIND of JOB is THAT to come UP with the NAMES for PAINT COL-ors?)

8. "And the phone rang..." (AND the PHONE RANG.)

9. "And I said 'Who am I kidding, I'm never going to get around to writing about procrastination.'" (and I said WHO am I KID-ding, I'M NE-ver GO-ing to GET a-ROUND to WRIT-ing A-bout PRO-cras-TIN-a-TION.)

10. "You had to hate something bad enough to get up and walk that five feet to change the channel." (you HAD to HATE some-THING bad E-nough to GET up AND walk THAT five FEET to CHANGE the CHAN-nel.)

11. "It was a simpler time back then..." (it WAS a SIMP-ler TIME back THEN...)

12. "I believe someday sitcoms will be thirty seconds long." (i BE-lieve SOME-day SIT-coms WILL be THIR-ty SEC-onds LONG.)

13. "I was watching the news the other day... brought to you by Paxil..." (I was WATCH-ing the NEWS the OTH-er DAY ... brought TO you by PAX-il...)

14. "'It could be the most deadly thing in the world, and you could be having it for dinner. We'll tell you what it is tonight at eleven.'" (it COULD be THE most DEAD-ly thing IN the WORLD, and YOU could be HAV-ing IT for DIN-ner. WE'LL tell YOU what IT is TO-night AT e-LEV-en.)

Blog 14 -- Harvest Moon

The full moon is rising up on the horizon.
         Giant wafer made of gold.

Blog 13 -- "The Blame"

It wasn't enough to apologize
When all you wanted was for me to go.
And all of those times I didn't realize
All of the things I should have known.

Part of me wants to scald you
With the words I always held behind.
I guess it wasn't enough, you were though.
And in the end, I was hopelessly blind.

I can't hold them back, but I can't set them free.
I'm stuck in knowledge, knowing I was wrong,
And I know how you push the blame on me.
But I'm used to the blame you've held so long.

I know none of this was ever my fault,
And now I refuse to let you keep me at a halt.

Ode to Creepypasta

Long nights have been wasted in front of the screen,
Part from interest, most from withheld screams.
I read and read, and yet I feel the starting fear
That the something behind me is creeping ever near.

Could it be who was residing in the "Showers?"
Or an unsettled spirit, testing me with its powers?
Oh, "Sarah O'Bannon," you've been dead for years,
And yet how is it I'm still reduced to tears?
Murderers, monsters, I'm safe if my light is on,
I fear I might be dead or worse before reaching dawn.
Games are just games, or is it possible that
Slenderman is standing just behind my back?

Such brilliance in amateurs! I feel like they're King
Disguised and hiding behind the safety of the screen.
I hope that sound was just the cat,
I swear I don't know what I'd do if it wasn't that...
It's times like these I wish I weren't alone,
And I swear on my grave that I don't know "WHO WAS PHONE."

For the horror mind looking for a thrill,
Or the reader looking for his fill,
The tales of terror will invade your mind,
It will never disappoint, and many a time
You might find yourself in the same position as mine
Wishing you had someone next to you to give a sign.
As scared as I will be, I continue yearning for more
And thank God for every day that I can open "Doors."

Sestina

I cannot count the time apart in days.
Remembering all those halfway-happy months
We helped ourselves from pits of despair,
Something I thought we could both take triumph,
But now I realize that victory was only half
And in the end, all but one was always gone.

How long, my friend, have you been gone?
You said not a word to me during those final days.
I never meant for us to be not whole but half.
Regretfully, we've been just two for months.
The sadness I alone manage to triumph...
My God, why didn't you tell me your despair?

Now I understand the depths of your despair
But it's too late, days of whole are gone.
If only I had known I was alone in triumph
My friend, I could have saved you from murderous days.
Now I've been alone for months
And in the end, I was the first to leave you half.

I thought I was the first to be alone and half.
But I unknowingly abandoned you when I ran from my despair.
My friend, you were alone for months
From your right hand I was gone,
But you don't know that I remembered you closely those days.
In my memory, it was you, not me, who had strength to triumph.

I never meant to be alone in our triumph
Because I was whole, but now I'm half.
I would have walked for days
Through frustration and despair
To see exactly where you've gone.
Both of our places have stolen all these months.

But now I'll sit and remember our past months
When I thought we both felt triumph.
I don't blame you for going where you've gone
My friend, we are not whole but half.
And now we're back to the start -- despair.
But the sun will also rise on the loneliest of days.

Yet I refuse to let our triumph be just half.
There will be hope going your way, gone will be despair.
One day, you'll be safe to live out every month with all its days.

Blog #10 -- Comparison between "Orientation" and "Bartleby, the Scrivener"

The short stories "Orientation" and "Bartleby, the Scrivener" (by Daniel Orozco and Herman Melville respectively), while both work-centered, are different in more ways than just plot. Some of these differences include the interaction between co-workers, productivity (or lack thereof), and the value of the job for the individual.

The first difference lies in how the co-workers interact with each other. In "Orientation," there are a variety of different workers (more than in "Bartleby's" setting), but their interactions with each other are very detailed and have a variety of different levels, such as Russell Nash who is in love with Amanda Pierce, who is married with an autistic son, but loves Albert Bosch who in turn loves someone who hates him (pg. 46-47). In "Bartleby, the Scrivener," there are less workers and even fewer, if any, female characters. The co-workers are all male with their own quirks and personalities and jobs (410). However, they all seem to get along with one another fairl well, except for, perhaps, Bartleby, who prefers to live like a hermit in his office and generally not do anything (415). In work-like settings, there will always be different dynamics and eccentricities. Both of these short stories take the meaning of "eccentricity" to a new level, but they are also different forms of eccentricity.

The next difference between the two stories is the productivity (or general lack thereof). In "Orientation," work and productivity are generally required, even if that includes stretching your workload to fit the eight-hour day (46) or "you may be let go." However, in "Bartleby," the narrator actually placates the non-productivity of his eccentric employee. Even when trying to fire him, the narrator doesn't necessarily take an aggressive stance by any means of the word, regardless that no work was getting done. (422) In most work places, like in "Orientation," work is expected and demanded of the employee, and if not given there would be no question in firmly firing the person. In Bartleby's case though, he continued to be an employee even after he failed to remain productive.

the third and last difference I'll mention is about the value of the job for the individual. In "Orientation," someone would really have to value their job in order to stick around with serial killers and crazy fortune tellers (49), and it seems as if the tour guide, so to speak, has valued their job enough to avoid not being "let go." However, when looking at Bartleby in "Bartleby, the Scrivener," it is clear that he values something, but it probably isn't the job so much as it is the security of it. He even blatantly gives up working, but refuses to outright quit -- or even really be fired for that matter. (424) In the real world, it's often hard to value a job for any more than its security. In "Orientation," the tour guide values some aspect of the job enough to know and give the new guy all of the dirty details, while Bartleby in "Bartleby, the Scrivener" seems to value the security of the concept of a job over any aspect of the job itself.