Tag archive: poetry
Mammon
“But it is not the rich man only who is under the dominion of things; they too are slaves who, having no money, are unhappy from the lack of it.” – George MacDonald — I wrote this poem after having… continue reading »
If I am / In God’s will, / The lives of others / Will be helped
I’ve read half of Jayber Crow four times. The most recent three times I’ve had this poem/prayer as my bookmark, courtesy of Caitie Merz. I carried this poem with me to Iraq; I read it and ponder it often. (Underlines… continue reading »
Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery
, I hear. In Prose Style with Dr. Allison, we learned the importance of imitation writing. Three of the essays we wrote that semester were imitation pieces. I wrote a short story imitating As I Lay Dying by William Faulkner,… continue reading »
Install me in any profession….
O God, O Venus, O Mercury, patron of thieves, Lend me a little tobacco-shop, or install me in any professionSave this damn’d profession of writing, where one needs one’s brains all the time. – Ezra Pound’s “The Lake Isle” —… continue reading »
Wishing writing could change me
Sometimes I think my writing can change me. And it always can, but only to a certain extent. I want writing to bring me peace about a situation, but it’s only temporary. I think of my smoking poem from last… continue reading »
Screaming alongside us
Eli, Eli My God, my God, why do I forsake you while I hang on the cross of my screw-you, my hell-no, my let’s-just-get-this-over-with, my it-couldn’t-get-worse-than-this, my lies, my leanings and inclinations toward the better-for-me-worse-for-you? You’re the only one who… continue reading »
Cross-train
So I write a lot — go figure, I’m a writing major. But, I don’t spend a lot of time writing for fun. As outlined in my last Scriptwriting blog post, I do a lot of everything for my classes,… continue reading »
Why I hate when you smoke, a poem
How I hate when you smoke Revised with a new title and everything. A special thanks to Mary Brown. On the rare occasion I want to stand outside with you while you hold and light, inhale and exhale in puffs… continue reading »
Losing, a poem
Losing Sometimes I think I’m a sadist. I want change, even if it means losing blood or sanity, even if it means taking my things back and leaving or telling you how I… continue reading »
Poetry as Therapy pt. II
Thursday I was upset about something (or, many somethings) while I was at Nathan’s house. After some crying and some huffing and gruffing, I did what I always need to do when I’m upset: I wrote. I laid down on… continue reading »