Some more random poems

All of a sudden it dawned upon me:
With an almost absolute certainty
I realised the complete and utterly truthful fact that
I was alone.







The poor fool did not hear
Yet he could understand through the malicious
Glimmer of the eye I flashed towards him.
Who,
Is the greater evil?
The right that I believe I possess that appears from the robotic mimicing of the other selves
Is but a frail and rotting old core of a fruit belonging
To the proud great tree who once bore
Numerous riches of the purest soul and mind.
So I implore for you, I,
To prune thyself.




Arrogance and self-confidence are divided by a very thin line.
I often tell myself that I am better
Then I turn to belittle myself, I am no better than anyone else.
I remind myself, Janteloven is not the way to live,
But in it I see an uneasy security.
Why do I seek individual success when I have had none?
Janteloven...

POETRY ANTHOLOGY COMPETITION ENTRIES

The five contests in which I decided to enter were the following:

Blue mountain Arts Inc. Poetry Card contest (www.sps.com)

Poetry Nation Poetry Contest (www.poetrynation.com)

The America Library of Poetry Poetry Contest (www.libraryofpoetry.com)

Creative Communication Poem contest (www.poeticpower.com)

Poetry Soup Golden PondPoetry Contest (www.poetrysoup.com)

Poem Anthology

 A Haiku

A feeling of dark

Cold, shivering head to tail

The dark alleyway

Sonnet

When I am troubled my mind does not rest

Through valleys and high peaks it does wander

Through oceans deep and deserts steep it bests

In sprint-like paces or lazy saunter

Until at last it rests, in Frejya’s fields

Basking in that holy sun and winds cool

What pleasures my mind wants to seek, it yields

Exploit it does not, for my mind is not a fool

But when my forlorn mind has reached its peak

The winds slow down, the lucid visions cease

My thoughts and my peace seem so vainly bleak,

And in this dark my state of mind decrease.

Yet my mind does not rest, it feels no pain

Loss it does not feel, but instead it’s gain.

Acrostic

Cruel in groups,

Heavenly individually.

I saw them throwing stones at a lone one

Loud shouts piercing screams

Darling child, sweet child, such an innocent child...

Free Verse

What good did we see

When we made laughter with mixed pity of our fool-friend,

An intoxicating blend of the devilish desire that

Envelops man to belittle and trick one another

In eternal reciprocation.

Now his fire burns bright, almost too bright

Searing our eyes with unmeasurable hatred

Wails of the schoolchildren as they are consumed

His cannon filling up the halls

His grim face becoming a smile as he spots us.

As we died his smile rang through our minds.

Ode To The Curious Man

O young man so inquisitive,

What compels you to endeavor to such high extents?

Will you never stop dreaming as long as you live,

Climbing the steep peaks of knowledge until you are spent?

O young man, what drives you so?

Have your achievements not broken the status quo?

The untamable energy which you possess

Inspires me and puts me down, for I am so much less.

For in you I see the essence of humanity,

Which separates us from the apes.

Cinquain

Time

  Unforgiving, constant

Ticking, blinking, ringing

   An unnerving feeling

Clock

Limerick

There once was a doglet called Thom

He always fought with his brother, Willom

But one day they killed kitty,

They felt super shitty,

So now he and his Willom are calm.

An Owl

As the moon sets 

To rest for the day

And the heavy sun rises from its slumber

All awakes, 

I shy

Villanelle

The light glared in my eyes, I couldn't see,
A group of boys I wished, would go away
The lack of self esteem had hampered me.

A ball thrown at my head, a shout of glee
Were all because I looked like easy prey,
The light glared in my eyes, I couldn't see.

I walked away -I tried- without a plea
They followed me and said "your lucky day!"
The lack of self esteem had hampered me.

A knee up in my chest, a one-two-three
Brought my breath away, I began to sway
The light glared in my eyes, I couldn't see.

The principal I saw, and he saw me,
He asked me what was wrong, I said s'okay,
The lack of self esteem had hampered me.

And now as I stand here, upon the quay,
My hope feels like a stone thrown in the bay.
The light glared in my eyes, I couldn't see,
The lack of self esteem had hampered me.

English Story with a "believable" character

            I am alone. This is not the first time in this situation. When I was five, my father had left my mother for some other woman halfway across the country. I vividly remember the day that he left: My mother crying, frantically trying to call him… Then silence filled the household as time seemed to stop for the next few weeks. Everything around the house was left to dust and rot; I remember opening the fridge for some milk and seeing that it had gone bad and curdled. It was the first time in my life I had ever had that feeling of abandonment. It felt as if everything was quiet and dark, and the only place I could look into was myself. But being five, I easily forgot about the whole incident in a couple of months and went back to slurping on ice cream all day in the hot sun. Unlike me, my mother never really recovered. Many nights, she would take out that bottle from the high cupboard and tell me to go to bed. She told me that it was time for her to relax. Lying in my bed, I could never sleep. The bright moon shining into the skylight in my room combined with the smell of cigarette smoke coming from the patio out my window choked my senses, locking me in a state of utmost consciousness I could not escape.

            A couple of years ago, I saw my mother’s car roll into the driveway as usual. It was late in the afternoon, and I was doing my usual routine of pretending to finish my homework. On perfect lazy afternoons like these, the only thing I could really do was daydream, thinking of the sunlight gleaming through the orange leaves in the forest behind my house. This day was a lot different, however. As I stumbled out to the patio lazily to greet my mother, keeping my head low to avoid the glare of the sunlight, I noticed that there were two shadows this time, instead of just my mothers. Startled, I immediately shook myself awake and alert and looked up. Today, there was a man with my mother. After a quick and awkward handshake and an exchange of muffled “hello, how are you”, my mother told me to do my homework and I quickly obliged and ran back into my room.

            That man ended up living in our house. He was nice and I think he treated my mom nice, but I never really got to know him. He was always in the back yard, tending to the plants that he lovingly planted yearly. Whenever I would pass by him, he would avoid my eyes and mutter a quick hello, then get back to his work. Living with him, I began to notice small things about him.  For instance, I saw a few quite prominent scars on his arms and legs. I was always afraid to ask what they were, but I couldn’t resist the temptation and so one day I ran down to the garden and basically shouted the question to him. Flinching, he told me quietly and carefully that he had been mauled by a bear a decade prior while on a camping trip with his old family. The next part was quite a shocker: He told me that before the bear had attacked him, it had mauled and killed his wife and both of his twin sons, who were both aged two at that time. Not knowing what to say, I turned my heel and ran back to my room. I tried my best to forget about what I had learned that day, feeling as if bad news would only destroy my personal paradise.

            A couple of months ago, my mother and the man had called to the kitchen from my room. Yawning and rubbing my tired eyes, I stumbled over to the kitchen. Seeing their faces, I knew that this was going to be some serious news. I sat down. They started with a big breath, then the big news came: I was to have a baby brother. I sat there for a minute, blankly staring at their apprehensive faces. My mind was racing: What would it be like to have a baby brother?

            It turned out that only a couple of weeks later, more news came. We were moving to Mexico. The reason I do not know, however I was a bit skeptical about the changes this was going to bring to my life. I liked the sun here, it was a not to hot and it was constantly shining on me, warming my face. I liked the way the sun would go through the leaves outside my window as well. How would Mexico be? Nevertheless, I was ready to give it a try. This was a week ago.

            They left me there. I am alone now. A couple of hours ago, I woke up and saw that the house was abandoned. There was no sign of anyone else ever living here except a note on my desk. It was from my mother. Brief and to the point, the note explained that she was moving to some random place in the world with the man and would start a new life with my baby brother. I did not know what to think. As I am sitting here now, I still do not know what to think. Maybe I’ll take a walk outside…

            The sounds of the city in Mexico are so different than the sounds in my old neighborhood. In my old home, the only noises I heard were the chirping of birds and the constant ruffle of the leaves in the wind. Here, all I hear is the barking of dogs, sirens, and music playing in the background, always so upbeat. Walking down the street, the sun has started to shine on my face. The bright light pierces my eyes, digging into my brain: My head has begun to beat with in unison with my heart. I taste something salty, metallic. I put my hand to my mouth and then pull it back, taking a look. Seeing that my nose has started to bleed, I start to briskly walk towards the nearest public washroom. Finding it, I start washing my face, but the blood won’t stop flowing. The sink is red now, and I am beginning to feel a bit dizzy…My head is still beating. At least this dark and grimy public washroom blocks the harsh sunlight from my eyes. Hearing a high-pitched whimpering, I look back, startled. I see a tangled mess of fur in the back corner, near the urinal. Blood dripping on the dirty floor, I start taking steps towards the noise. Looking closer, I see that it is a dog, quite visibly unwell with multiple obvious wounds. A surge of feeling rushes into my heart as I feel the empathy I have for this poor, abandoned animal. As I reach to hold it and carry it, I lose my balance and strike my head against the urinal. Everything goes white.   

Found Poem from LORD OF THE FLIES by William Golding

A vision of red and yellow

Decaying coconuts and palm fronds

Simmering water, pink granite, and white coral

White surf, the open sea, dark blue

Grinding roar of breakers on the reef

Tiny, glittering fish

Shaded with palm trees, sandy side

Weed strewn beach

Palm fronds would whisper

Dazzling water

Tangled reflections

A blur of sunlight crawling on hair

Dense blues of horizon

Scattered light

Drop of burning gold

The butterflies still danced, preoccupied

When the sun sank

Darkness dropped on the island

The sky was black.

The bright morning was full of threats

Last light, sad and grey filtered into the shelter

Grey, feathery ashes scurried hither and thither

They crumbled with sodden powder

A vision of red and yellow

This is an island.

The shore was fledged with palm trees.

Shadowy green and purple

Eyes against the shimmering water

Blue of all shades

Water drew to a point of infinity

Dazzling beach and water

Ralph’s golden body

Wept for the end of innocence

They’re all dead

We may stay here till we die

The heat seemed to increase till it became a threatening weight.

Absurd Thoughts - Short Story

                           He was tired. The next morning, he was to die. The man paced around his room with his hand under his chin. With the time limit on his life, many thoughts were suddenly rushing into his already troubled mind. All of a sudden, the idea of death became apparent to him. For his whole life, he had been running away, constantly pushing away the fact that he was going to die when he was old and frail. Now that the moment had come at such a young age, all the pressure came crashing down on his mind. What would he do before he died? He looked around the room. He could not see much, as there was barely any light. The only light source was from a grimy window, so greased up that it the light barely penetrated the glass. This dark, gloomy setting put down his mood to the point where he had almost lost hope. He looked around the room once more, in a desperate attempt to accept his situation. Beneath the window, there was a small round wooden table with a bucket full of water in it. He saw that the water was coming from the ceiling, where there was a leak in the centuries-old cobblestone and mortal. He also noticed that every time he put his foot down on the floor, the table wobbled. Beside it, there was a small blue cushion, probably to substitute for a chair. He glared intensely at the table, and an idea popped into his mind.

                        Quickly but rather quietly to not alert the guards, he leaped towards the chair, and looked at its legs. He saw that one of them was loose. He carefully grabbed the loose leg, and twisted it slowly until it broke off from the rest of the table. The end of the leg was curved, shaped peculiarly like a spoon. He made up his mind on that spot: This is what he would do before he died. He would escape. For he decided that his death was up to whichever path he was put on, and should not be decided by other humans. Very carefully, he set the table down, and saw that it still stood on three legs, though somewhat unstable. Silently he grabbed the cushion, and stood on the table. He reached up to the crack where the water was dripping down from, and wrapped the table leg with the cushion, to muffle as much noise as he could. He scraped away for a good two hours, and the little light that was coming from outside the window began to fade out into pitch darkness. He had almost taken out the looser stone and was about to pull it out when suddenly, he placed his foot back, but could not see where he set his foot. Losing his balance, the table toppled over, and he hit his head on the hard stone floor. Everything was bright, and then faded back into dark.

                        He woke up to the sound of scratching. He moved his head, immediately regretting that decision. Pain seared through his temple like a bullet. Now only daring to slightly move his head, he looked down at where the scratching noise was coming from. He saw that it was a rat, scuttling about and chewing on what looked like bits of bone. Crying out, disgusted, He scrambled onto his feet, ignoring the unbearable pain in his head, and quickly backed up into a wall. Gasping, he dropped back down and looked around again: This room looked different. The dripping was gone, and there was no window, but this time, there was a single candle on the wall, alight with a small flame. This gave him a comforting feeling, an almost homeliness mixed with melancholy. He wished he could go back home.

                         When his head and heart ceased pounding, he looked back at the rat. Slowly creeping closer, he stared at it. Knowing that it was being watched, the rat fidgeted around, occasionally glancing up at him. "Hello, little rat", he said. The rat stayed in the same spot, still looking at the human whilst gnawing on that piece of bone. "It's unfortunate that you have such a ugly name for you", he said again after a few seconds of silence. "People see you and think you're always up to no good, but you just look harmless and innocent!" he remarked. Seeing that it stayed still, the man stopped talking for a few minutes in deep thought. "We are not so different, little rat." he said after. "Society both hates us for things that out species scarcely do... If the people gave us a chance, we could possibly merge back into being accepted!" The man smirked to himself. "Look at me! Stuck in this measly dungeon, my execution tomorrow morning imminent." he exclaimed, exasperated. "Humans shouldn't kill, what gives them the right to choose the fate of others?" He shouted this time, causing the guards outside his door to yell at him to shut up. "It's too harsh", the man muttered to himself. His head began to hurt again from the shouting, and he closed his eyes. Before he knew it, he was drifting off to sleep.

                        He woke up to the sound of rattling at the door. "Wake up! Wake up, you rat! This is your last meal!" A guard shouted from the door. A bowl of gruel and a stale loaf of bread was slid through a wide slit on the door. Rousing himself quickly, the man scrambled forward and snatched the plate. He began to ravenously inhale the small amounts of gruel-porridge there was, using his hands as a spoon of sorts. After wiping the bowl clean, he turned to look at the loaf of bread, but was shocked and disgusted to see that rat with its body practically inside the loaf, tunneling through with the same raging hunger that the man had. Complete anger took over the man's head. He felt his heartbeat in his forehead as he smashed his foot down onto the rat, stomping it as many times as he could until he was sure it was dead. "Damn rat!" He screamed. "You dirty animal, you good-for-nothing scoundrel!". When the squealing had stopped, the man lifted his foot. He saw the gnarled mess of what was originally the rat. As quickly as it had come, the anger faded away. Like the ocean tides, another wave of emotion came upon the man: But this time, a wave of sadness; regret. "What have I done?" He thought to himself.

                        At that moment, the door swung open. "What a mess you have made," the guard said. "Come on, it's your time to go now." The guard gestured towards the door. The man contemplated running out the door and  then out of the dungeon as far as he could. Then, looking back at the rat, he sighed, and followed the guard out of the door. 

A Review of The Tenant of Wildfell Hall          

            Last Thursday, I watched the play "The Tenant of Wildfell Hall" directed by Sarah Rodgers, which was at the Frederic Wood Theatre. It was quite an interesting play to watch for me, particularly because it was quite wordy, which I assume it was because the play was an adaptation from Anne Bronte's novel.

            The play starts out with a set in 19th century U.K, showing a small group of people from the same village, gossiping about with each other about a mysterious new lady that just moved in to town, specifically into the house, Wildfell Hall. The woman, Helen Graham (Meegin Pye), does not reveal anything about her past life before she moved to Wildfell Hall, which makes some citizens very curious, and some others quite upset. Eventually, a young, flirtatious man named Gilbert (Francis Winter) falls hopelessly in love with Helen, mostly because of her very "unladylike" views on woman's rights of independence and strength.  Throughout the story, Gilbert slowly learns the truth behind Helen's past life; about how she abandoned her unfaithful and controlling husband and came to Wildfell Hall.

            The acting was quite good in general, although there were some slight issues, such as all the actors standing in a line, talking with each other. For some scenes, the dialogue seemed to turn into monotone chatter. Another inconsistency I noticed were the accents. I could not tell if they were trying to speak in an English accent, Scottish accent, or an American Canadian accent. Other than those problems, the actors and actresses filled their roles very well. For most of the time, the dialogue was snappy, witty, and very emotional. I think that there was quite a lot of tension when Gilbert had seen Helen hugging another man (Frederick Lawrence), making Gilbert quite jealous and angry, eventually leading to him hitting the man, which also eventually ended in him finding out that the man was Helen's brother. The anger in that scene was very well portrayed, and put me on the edge.

            In my opinion, the best experiences from the play were from the lighting, music, and costumes. Those three effects combined immediately put me in the mood for a good 19th century story, and it certainly delivered the feeling as well. The set and costume designer (Jacqueline Firkins) did a fine job in interpreting the play onto the stage. The lighting was very simple, usually a solid color in the background that changed color when the scenes changed to represent a certain mood of that scene. For example, when Gilbert would get angry, the background color would be a dark orange or a very light crimson color, giving the audience a slightly agitated, empathetic feeling for Gilbert. The music, which was scattered throughout the play, were light romantic-era pieces that really brought the mood of being in the 1800's. The music especially set the mood before the play, as it gave a sophisticated and calm feeling, as you would expect from a small town in Scotland. The music also assisted greatly in the scene changes, as it made the set changes and transitions a lot less awkward. The costumes were the real selling point in the play for me. Every single detail on the costumes were tuned to perfection, from the boots to the sideburns on the men. All of the costumes were also quite simple, each costume defining the character that wore it. For example, Helen wore a simple black dress the whole play, showing her slight mourning side of a "widow", while Gilbert also wore simple clothing of a farmer boy, to show his raucousness and his countryside playfulness.

            Overall, I think that the play was well-executed and very fluid with transitions. The set and costume design was the main winning point, as they were completely perfect, matching the time period and country. The acting was very convincing, as they portrayed their characters fully with no flaws. Especially since the play was derived from the novel, I think that it was a very well polished performance and script, other than some minor issues in dialogue. The messages in the book were well portrayed in the play, such as the themes of female independence and the somewhat unfair patriarchal society that was in place during the 1800's. Although the play had quite a small cast, they managed to convey the feeling of watching an intricate and complex play. I would recommend this play to all people who love a good story that is quite unpredictable, yet calm and also unnerving at times.