So...I haven't posted in a while...thought I would post something that is new to the blog but older to me. Comments welcomed!
I’LL COOK FOR MYSELF
I don’t know how it got this way,
I know its not alright-
crab-cake Benedicts
keeping me in
backwater Columbus.
I tried so hard, to prove
I wasn’t your property,
dueling for a position above
the welcome mat.
I won’t be stepped on and stepped over
in the end.
*ps. This piece uses a writing technique that a friend told me about- putting other written works inside of your own...It would make me really happy if someone recognized the written work that I used (hint: It's song lyrics)*
Monday, December 3, 2012
Saturday, October 20, 2012
Hello again!
So its been a while since I've written anything... and so I decided to start up again. Thanks to my Ethics professor, I've taken on the challenge of describing the taste of cinnamon gum to someone who has never tasted it before...here it goes!
CINNAMON GUM
Its that moment when autumn air hits your teeth
and bites clear down to your toenails.
That moment when wasabi meets your tongue and
slithers up through your nose.
Its the moment when the dentist steps back and
you suck in cleanliness like Dysons or Orecks.
Or when pop rocks salsa throughout your mouth,
bouncing off the roof and cheeks, pinching at their
Discretion.
It's the taste of Christmas, Halloween and
birthdays rolled into one, throwing in a wedding
of roller-coasters and waterfalls.
CINNAMON GUM
Its that moment when autumn air hits your teeth
and bites clear down to your toenails.
That moment when wasabi meets your tongue and
slithers up through your nose.
Its the moment when the dentist steps back and
you suck in cleanliness like Dysons or Orecks.
Or when pop rocks salsa throughout your mouth,
bouncing off the roof and cheeks, pinching at their
Discretion.
It's the taste of Christmas, Halloween and
birthdays rolled into one, throwing in a wedding
of roller-coasters and waterfalls.
Sunday, April 1, 2012
Improv/Imitation Entry 1 (Week 10)
This is an improv/imitation of Robert Frost's poem "Fire and Ice"
Some say the world will end in fire,
Some say in ice.
From what I've tasted of desire
I hold with those who favor fire.
But if it had to perish twice,
I think I know enough of hate
To say that for destruction ice
Is also great
And would suffice.
my imitation:
Fear and Pain
People talk about ending with fear,
others mention pain.
In the end though, I've lent my ear
and heard both gain.
No one wants to see how near
both endings actually are,
but our tears are rain
and the flood is here.
Fire and Ice
Some say the world will end in fire,
Some say in ice.
From what I've tasted of desire
I hold with those who favor fire.
But if it had to perish twice,
I think I know enough of hate
To say that for destruction ice
Is also great
And would suffice.
my imitation:
Fear and Pain
People talk about ending with fear,
others mention pain.
In the end though, I've lent my ear
and heard both gain.
No one wants to see how near
both endings actually are,
but our tears are rain
and the flood is here.
Peer Response Entry 2 (Week 10)
This is in response to Kelsey's Free Entry "Eyebrows." (link: http://kflemin.blogspot.com/2012/03/free-entry-eyebrows-week-10.html)...
This is a really interesting piece. I love the simplicity in the title, when I first read "Eyebrows," I thought "oh boy. Where could this be going?" But I love how you went about this, not jumping straight into the scorching, but focusing on playing with Barbies and then describing the junk drawer. This is a nice use of that idea of creating a scene. I would love to see where this piece goes, because the way you ended:
"The door to my parent’s bedroom opened and my mother walked out in a towel, she lifted her nose and sniffed the air reminding me of a mouse and asked, “What’s burning?”
My voiced wobbled as I replied, “My face.”" had me wondering how your mom reacts...I can only imagine how much trouble your sister got in!
This is a really interesting piece. I love the simplicity in the title, when I first read "Eyebrows," I thought "oh boy. Where could this be going?" But I love how you went about this, not jumping straight into the scorching, but focusing on playing with Barbies and then describing the junk drawer. This is a nice use of that idea of creating a scene. I would love to see where this piece goes, because the way you ended:
"The door to my parent’s bedroom opened and my mother walked out in a towel, she lifted her nose and sniffed the air reminding me of a mouse and asked, “What’s burning?”
My voiced wobbled as I replied, “My face.”" had me wondering how your mom reacts...I can only imagine how much trouble your sister got in!
Saturday, March 31, 2012
Free Entry 1 (Week 10)
This is just a quick free entry--comments and critiques welcomed!
What does it feel like?
How do you know when something is right?
Some say it hits you like a bullet to your brain-
But that's too overused, too cliched.
What does it really feel like?
When the sun hits the dew in the morning,
Or the bird hits the high C.
Maybe when the Neapolitan soft serve swirls into a clean spiral on the cone,
Or the cat stretches out on the hammock in the midday sun for a nap.
Is that what it feels like?
But then how do you know when something is wrong?
Some say you just know-
But that's the cowards answer.
What does it really feel like?
When the mugger grabs your purse on the bustling street and disappears,
Or the little girl’s chin and lips start wobbling up and down, faster and faster.
Maybe when your mother looks up across the table with tears in her big brown eyes,
Or the student’s blank stare when you ask for that paper from last week.
Is that what it feels like?
What does it feel like?
How do you know when something is right?
Some say it hits you like a bullet to your brain-
But that's too overused, too cliched.
What does it really feel like?
When the sun hits the dew in the morning,
Or the bird hits the high C.
Maybe when the Neapolitan soft serve swirls into a clean spiral on the cone,
Or the cat stretches out on the hammock in the midday sun for a nap.
Is that what it feels like?
But then how do you know when something is wrong?
Some say you just know-
But that's the cowards answer.
What does it really feel like?
When the mugger grabs your purse on the bustling street and disappears,
Or the little girl’s chin and lips start wobbling up and down, faster and faster.
Maybe when your mother looks up across the table with tears in her big brown eyes,
Or the student’s blank stare when you ask for that paper from last week.
Is that what it feels like?
Peer Response Entry 1 (Week 10)
This is in response to Brittany's Junkyard Quote 3: ""When life gives you grapes make raisins."
-Aaron (my cousin)."
This is really cute. I don't know how old the cousin is, but it definitely sounds like something a child would say. I think this would be a great start to a story about someone who doesn't really care for lemons, so tries to use that typical phrase with different items. I can visualize a scene with this character going something like this:
Jimmy reached for his glass of bright yellow lemonade, took a sip and puckered his face.
"Urrg. I can't drink this mom," he spluttered, handing the glass to the woman with her back to him.
She turned around and said pointedly "when life gives you lemons Jimmy, make lemonade." And turned back around at the recipe she was studying.
Jimmy shook his head and placed the condensation covered glass on the coaster, grabbed a handful of grapes and opened the sliding glass door to the porch. He sat down on the hot cement and studied the lizard slithering by, roasting in the New Mexico sun.
"Screw lemons and lemonade Mom. Its all about grapes nowadays. When life gives you grapes, make raisins," where he proceeded to pull two off the vine and pluck one in his mouth and set the other on the ground next to him, watching the sun suck all the moisture into the air.
Its just a start, but I'd love to see where this quote could go in a piece.
This is really cute. I don't know how old the cousin is, but it definitely sounds like something a child would say. I think this would be a great start to a story about someone who doesn't really care for lemons, so tries to use that typical phrase with different items. I can visualize a scene with this character going something like this:
Jimmy reached for his glass of bright yellow lemonade, took a sip and puckered his face.
"Urrg. I can't drink this mom," he spluttered, handing the glass to the woman with her back to him.
She turned around and said pointedly "when life gives you lemons Jimmy, make lemonade." And turned back around at the recipe she was studying.
Jimmy shook his head and placed the condensation covered glass on the coaster, grabbed a handful of grapes and opened the sliding glass door to the porch. He sat down on the hot cement and studied the lizard slithering by, roasting in the New Mexico sun.
"Screw lemons and lemonade Mom. Its all about grapes nowadays. When life gives you grapes, make raisins," where he proceeded to pull two off the vine and pluck one in his mouth and set the other on the ground next to him, watching the sun suck all the moisture into the air.
Its just a start, but I'd love to see where this quote could go in a piece.
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