Improv Post Two Week One

This is an improv off of the piece "Ozmandias" by Percy Shelley. This sonnet struck me because of the line: "But when you die nothing beside remains." This is very profound to me: when you die, nothing but remains is what remains. I wanted to try and take another spin on this idea, all the while keeping in sonnet form with iambic pentameter and fourteen lines and the rhyme scheme. I'm not sure how it worked but here it is:

You might make money, see
when you die nothing besides your body remains.
And then your family won't laugh at what's funny,
but only expect what Porsche they'll gain.
I met a man in stripes by the bank, where
he told me "give it all up," since he lost.
I watched the street light blink their colors and there
instead flash rings my mother owns, each tossed
aside gifts from stepfather, who loves young her,
while he's cancered and sixty, buys mansions here.
The old man disappears and in a spur,
I throw my pocket coins into some fear
and walk back, opposite of where I came
never go back- material in shame.

Improv Post One Week One

This is an improv off of "The Waking" by Theodore Roethke. I found that the original poem (a villanelle) is 19 lines with 10 syllables and alternating rhyme scheme (and repeating lines every other stanza). I know that was a very complicated observation I just made, so why don't you click on the  poem here to see for yourself what I was trying to say.

But anyway, I really liked the line "I learn by going where I have to go." It mimics my thoughts about life. I tried to capture that in my improv. I have no idea if it's right. This is my first attempt at form.

I learn by going where I have to go
without a map, my guesses guide me there.
I itch to find you, however slowly,

but I travel as the river below,
and the road leads past the forest bare
yet covered in something now new to know

like my plane, pasta, a pen's ink flow,
all etched above a block's furry glare
I itch to find you, however slowly.

While my hand glides, like the waves below
without a bump or rock yet to weather,
you uncovered something now new know

at the block, where my road forks what to do,
like the pasta tied up with food to tear,
and I itch to find you, however slow.

my combination: my box and my bow,
wrapped perfect and I understand its fair-
why I itched to find you, however slow,
now I'm covered in something new to know.

Junkyard Quote Post Two Week One

"Chihuahua's are just rats that are very persistent."- Lucas

Junkyard Quote Post One Week One

"peanut butter is like good karma"-Sydney and MacKenzie

First Blog Post for Fall 2013

From here on out, this blog will be devoted to my Advanced Poetry class for the Fall of 2013. I will be posting my own imitations/improvisations on poems, junkyard quotes and commentary. Just so everyone is aware.