Nez bouché encore? damnit.

Trouble Saying It
mitzfah

Ten, Tin, Tan, too many
A, E, I, vowel mix
Ups and downs for us.
Understand?

You talk funny.
What am I holdin?
A pen is not a pin
And eight year old honesty
Does wonders for self confidence.

Frankly, voice work
For five hours
Crumbles into
Six-sided stars.

So, the oral
Persecution of
A shiksa chasing
Boy becomes a
Throw-away Baselitz

~ tim

So, It's taken me forever--apparently--to put this next one up. I was particularly attentive to the fact of how the rhythm and meter of this one felt/looked. I think it was an appropriate topic to discuss when considering such things. Luckily I'm in a poetry workshop group where I get such good commentary like "I like this one. It doesn't rhyme but that's ok it doesn't need it." Did I mention that that was the only commentary. Haha, it's cool... I'm not trying to badger anyone. Truthfully, I just want someone to tell me like it is--skilled at poetry or not. I just would like some criticism sometimes. Just something to consider about the poetry really. Anyways.

I guess I should start putting more into these too--more time that is.
By the way, the poem I turned in this week was a sad excuse for a poem. There were guidelines (much like the poem above which was supposed to focus on the "music of the line" i.e. meter, line breaks, rhyme [if you want it], rhythm, etc) for it, repetition of a word to be exact, but I'm quite sure I didn't do exactly what she wanted or was talking about rather. I feel like repetition is not exactly a strong part of my poetry... who knows. I'm interested in what the professor will say about it (her criticism is usually the most informative seeing as she actually writes it down and is in depth with it).

Pants came in : )
History of the English Language is an interesting class. I'm enjoying it. I think it is informing a lot of my writing now--I'm paying a lot of attention to the words and how they work and what they mean in the construction of the line or sentence. Lovely. Of course, I would be delving deeper into a linguistic aspect of literature and like it.

Now, for comic relief. An exercise someone did last semester in which we were supposed to write "terrible" poems like a high school kid would write. This is mine.

To once belong
With Heaven's fair
I would, as the wind,
Caress her sweet hair.

Forever swooing there,
The instant before the
Kiss. Something I would
Probably miss, I melt--

December--wanton of Spring's care.
I die.

~ me hahahahaha great.

until the next again.

Bluish Daily Routine. Epilepsy is Dancing.

Yea, family poem I guess.


Indian Giver.

'Cause he's got to look out for what over his horizon.
He's gotta make sure he's not lonely, not broke.
It's enough to worry about keeping his own head above. ~ The Streets

Twenty-four streets away
The water beats down and
Mists float up to coat it all.
Soft and strong--
Dim light from a cracked door
And creaky hardwood floor.
It was kept close to his tiny,
Laying on Old Hickory.

Rewards for good heavior then--
Now, for making it this far.

His eyes were closed
And her eyes had intent
When she asked for it.

Capable sin--
What does a child know
Of logic or Aristotle?
She's the provider

Who decides what is
Right or wrong, and
He listens. Reluctance
Isn't, for her, something
He feels.

Making it this far,
Rewards for reasoning.

Love like brothers--
Back and forth
With a grain of salt.

The Water doesn't stop falling
Twenty-four streets down,
But the mist always rises up.
It's enough to worry about
Keeping his own head above.

~tim

Yea... How about a picture?


So... I think I'm going to start quizzing myself on words from the dictionary... like make a little notebook and just learn words I don't know--Self-actualize kind of thing. And I need to consider revising some of these. This one can have decent changes at points... can be stronger, and I need to be more of a writer and see the changes that it needs.

Anyways. I bought purple pants and i'm excited.
love.