Prose-to-Poem Assignment
2. You may cut as much of the original as you want.
Lastly: Post your new creation, your Prose-turned-Poem, in the "Comments" box of this post by Wednesday, Sept. 30th. Be sure to attach your name to the post itself.
Find an existing piece of prose that you've written--a journal entry, a quickwrite, a section of a short story, a paragraph of an essay, a letter, your atmospheric description of a setting, or something else--and re-format it with a sense of line. Create line breaks to add pacing, drama, emphasis, suspense, or new associations.
Two rules:
1. You're not allowed to add anything new. What was there originally is all you've got to work with.
Two rules:
1. You're not allowed to add anything new. What was there originally is all you've got to work with.
2. You may cut as much of the original as you want.
Lastly: Post your new creation, your Prose-turned-Poem, in the "Comments" box of this post by Wednesday, Sept. 30th. Be sure to attach your name to the post itself.
This comment has been removed by the author.
ReplyDeleteI look up to the sky,
ReplyDeleteas I wait for words to form in my throat.
I wonder if he is up there, looking down
on us.
Maybe he is he white roses that his mother used
to decorate the church's pews.
Maybe he is the rays of the sun,
that bronze my shoulders. It hits me,
the cruel fact that I will never see
him again.
I know that I am selfish,
but his death has seemed like nothing
but a punishment to me.
At night, I find myself waiting
for him to burst through the damned door.
Not caring to knock, because he always knew
that he was welcome.
I sit there for hours and finally at 2am, I realize
that he isn't coming.
He is never going to come home again.
But nothing is ever perfect is it?
He promised me a forever, a future, a reason to keep pushing through life's crap,
and then he just quit on me.
I hate him for quitting on me and leaving me
here. Most of all I hate him for promising me
the cliché everything will be ok, because
it is not ok.
I cannot believe that
he is gone.
Nicola Laurillard (from short story).
A symphony of crashing toys
ReplyDeleteperformed
by my brother and sister, took place
on the stage of pink, tacky carpet behind me.
Stale cigarette smoke penetrated
my nostrils, the smell seeped
into the fabric of the small confined living room furniture.
A fresh, cool breeze cascaded
around me, lifting my hair. Hot suffocating
air quickly refilled its original place, leaving behind
barely breathable oxygen.
angry flies buzzed relentlessly
around my body seeming to thrive off
the growing stench
perfuming my clothes.
The only décor adorning the eggshell
white walls was a huge window
residing directly in front of me letting just enough
sunlight in to see
the dirt-drenched dust motes dancing
on each of the sun’s different rays.
Cars pursued each other like
desperate heartbeats as they polluted
the crammed air with their fumes
outside the window. Each honk tells a different story
involving flying birds
and imaginative epithets, thrown
like knives into each other’s faces.
Viveca Braaten (from Multi-Sensory Piece)
I've always wondered
ReplyDeleteWhat happens to those who have drowned,
But we're never found
Maybe the drifted into the vast ocean
Where not even
Millions
Of species have been discovered.
Or maybe,
They swam off not wanting
To be found
It is said
Drowning is the most
Painful
Way to die
But maybe
You get greeted by not angels
But creatures that look just like you
From the waist up
Their skin
Radiates
Elegance
Their smiles
Warming
The water around you
And their eyes showing
Mischeif
And adventure
And when you grab their hand
You know youre beautiful
As well.
(Mackenzie Johansen)
Undiscovered species
Breathing becoming laboured
ReplyDeletesweat dripping down
me body, the heat
of the blankets
does not help.
Can not
breathe,
my oxygen
cut off
blocked.
I cling
to what little
I have
left,
what little
has not
been taken from
me,
what little...
what little...
I see his face
above me, the face
I've been searching
for. I will never leave
him I vow as I scream.
No.
I'd rather
believe this
is real. I
don't want
to realize
I no
longer need
to breathe.
I don't
want to
know I am
... I am...
I am...
Brianna Payne
(short story)
Matt McGifford - Philosophy Notes
ReplyDeleteWhen you get to the edge
of “I know”,
all you can say is
“I don’t know”.
When you reach the end
of understanding,
you have succeeded.
Know who you are
in reality.
A humble person see themselves
realistically,
in order to see
who they really are.
The unexamined life
is not worth living.
Know thyself.
Growing up does not mean Growing dull.
ReplyDeleteYes, taxes and a 9-5 might seem pretty lame,
But that doesn’t mean growing up has to be!
All you have to do is pay your bills,
File your taxes and,
Get to work on time.
Growing up is awesome!
Growing up means finding yourself! So get up!
Dance
Fall in love, break your heart
Go for a drive or stay at home
Find a cause
Make mistakes
Learn
Laugh
Breathe
Carpe frigg’n Diem!
Make growing up what you want it to be
But don’t make it dull.
Life it too short to be boring,
And just long enough to be fun.
All you have to do
Is show up.
-Veda
This comment has been removed by the author.
ReplyDeleteYoung boy,
ReplyDeletemadmen know nothing.
Her heart is insane
becoming paranoid, frightened.
They know nothing.
She admits
wanting to murder for his eye
when he lies
at night.
Young man,
tell your mother.
-Rose de Bruijn (Synthesis essay)
Compelling.
ReplyDeleteI'd love
to have been the person
that invented the word compelling. Although
the phonetics of the word,
the literal word itself,
isn't anything amazing- the emotion behind the word is really what
intrigues me.
Who could've come up with the word
Compelling? Who could've possibly taken a feeling of pure...
entracement
and
awe
and put a name on it?
And by giving this feeling a name, said person must've been
transparent enough, or
confident enough
to allow themselves to be so
vulnerable
to share such an emotion with others.
By sharing this
new word
the creator of this word would've learned that
others too
had experienced this same kind of sheer
amazement.