Starting January 27th, 2006, I began a project that entailed writing a poem every day, for an entire year. That year being complete, I have a notebook with 361 poems. I missed 4 in the process. Usually due to drunken debauchery, or plain old absent mindedness. I haven't read over most of these poems, though I occasionally read over certain ones that pertain to particular dates that I find some what important. A great deal of them were written moments before going to sleep, just closing thoughts on the events of the day, or whatever happened to be on my mind at the moment. Some of them have turned into songs. Some of them are drawings. Most of them are terrible.
In the end, this is more or less a big book of confessions. A collection of things I'm not nearly brave enough to say without enveloping in some confusing tangle of words. I'll admit, some are a lot more blunt than others. Lots of them have my own brutal critiques written on the side lines. Even others involve author's notes to sort out what happened, in case anyone is actually following the convulted story line being traced over three or four consecutive days of poems. I don't know if it's really an artistic endeavour, or more of a journal. It definetly feels like that to me.
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Here's one I thought was worth typing out:
Aug 30th:
I don't know what the time is
As I'm yawning down my sleeve
In case the rest of them are sleeping
I'm being quiet as I breath.
It'll be cold inside my car
And I forgot to lock the doors
I'll have to tip-toe through the hall
To dodge the bodies on the floor
I hate to tally all the casualties
That's why I'm up before the rest
And gauging all the damges
Inflicted by each guest.
The Sgt's in a frenzy
He has to clean up all the spills
He's collecting all the casings
For a twenty dollar bill
I wasn't taken in the draft
But can't escape the fog of war
Between the violence and the cries
It left the troops aching for more.
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I'll sift through this, and if I find anything else interesting, I'll post it. Odds are I won't. I was going to start another notebook for poems, but I couldn't find one today that was the same kind of notebook as I already had. I was angry, and dissapointed. If I don't find one by tomorrow I'll surely give up. I'm easily deterred, as you can see.
Monday, January 29, 2007
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8 comments:
One time for my high school english class we were supposed to write a poem and enter it in a contest. I wrote one that, if I remember right, had four characters representing the fout types of people in the world-- politician, priest, warrior, and poet. It was in rhyming stanzas. The feedback I got from judges was that it was fantastic, but since it rhymed it was in a "dead poetic style."
I'm glad you haven't sold out to the pretensions of the English establishment. Poetry that doesn't rhyme is just lazy.
Actually Nay, the sidereal year on Earth is 365.26 mean solar days, so you're really missing four poems and one limerick.
As for my poetic project (I don't know if I've told you about it): I'm trying to rewrite Tenacious D songs so that they fit into the PGSM universe. Here's a sample:
Sailor Moon's rode with queens on mighty steeds
Across the Astral Plane!
She walked with Jesus and his cross
He did not die in vain, no!
Her mystic crystal be silver,
Her tiara be gold,
But lest you think she's vain...
She know's she's on TV-Nihon,
She don't care!
She's Sailor Moon!
She reigns...
She reig-eigns supreme,
Oh God!
Burrito supreme!
And a chicken supreme!
And a thunder supreme!
Supre-eee-eeme yeeah.
I'll show myself.
i hate poetry
it suxxx
I really like that! I remember when you and Marcy started that s-365. I tried it for like, a month, I think. I still have the pretty notebook.
That must be quite a treasure, a whole year captured in poetry. I know a girl doing the same thing with pictures, one picture, every day. I might just do that when I get my new Nikon.... and a photoblog for them! Woot.
I like that poem. You should analyze it for us.
I'm starting a journal of some kind. Actually, it's more of a daily scrapbook that will be probably desintegrate into mindless notes to self and reminders.
Naomi let's get new books and start over while I'm here. I can make it this time, I swear! I can change!
er...you should analyze it Tess, I'm sure you'd make something a lot more interesting out of it, than what I actually had intended.
And I have the same problem with journals. Whenever I start one, it just turns into a random place for me to ramble, write phone numbers, and keep track of stuff. Regardless, you should start one.
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