Confluence & Ode to My Muscles

Image description: A young woman seen from behind, clutching the top of her head. The muscles of her back are strained and ridges of her spine visible. From Pixabay.

I'm taking a break from Kevarya this week to showcase some recently rediscovered poetry from 2015. It's somewhat hard to believe that three years have passed since I wrote these, but in a way, it makes sense, since they had started to fade from my memory.

Both poems deal with the relationship between mind and body, exploring both the positive and negative sides of physical awareness. Confluence contains references to characters you may recognize from other posts, while Ode to My Muscles deals with a topic I've rarely touched upon here: my experience as a disabled person.

So, without further ado, here's...

Confluence &

Ode to My Muscles

Things I've Written, Entirely Out of Context: Nostalgia Edition (2008-2011)

It's the beginning of the school year, which means more work for your resident college student and, unfortunately, less time and energy spent on new writing to entertain all you folks here at Mapping Out a Sky. But before I disappear into the mists of academia, here's another round of intriguing and amusing excerpts—this time from various works of mine written years and years ago! Keep an eye out for:

• Preteens snarking about how much "smarter" they are than adults!
• Grown adults snarking about how much smarter they are than other adults!
• The author snarking about the state of the education system!
• Fanfiction! Bonus points if you can guess the fandom.
• Random exclamations!
• Women snarking about the utter incompetence of men and running away with each other!

That's right, it's time for...

Things I've Written, Entirely Out of Context:

Nostalgia Edition

(2008-2011)

Listen

From http://www.cultbox.co.uk/wp-content/uploads/2014/09/Doctor-Who-Listen2.jpg, courtesy of the Google Machine. 'Tis a screenshot from the inspirationally well-written Doctor Who episode with which this essay shares its title.

I rarely write personal essays, and when one is assigned despite my protests, I make a conscious effort to write more about others--or, better yet, abstract concepts--than I do about myself. I don't know why, other that I'm a very private person. And yet, whenever I write about the characters I've created, or about the writing process in general, the resulting essay reveals more about me than I ever intended.

That's what ended up happening with this essay, "Listen". I wrote it as part of my college application, which I sent to six colleges, five of which accepted me. The college which I will be attending in the fall started their acceptance letter with a quote from the essay and a note on how deeply it resonated with their admissions staff. My parents' initial reaction was more along the lines of "...that's... different... very you, though." And I have to agree. "Listen" is a meditation on an integral part of my identity; it speaks to an experience that many and yet few share. And it is utterly, undeniably mine.

Enjoy.

Some students have a background or story that is so central to their identity that they believe their application would be incomplete without it. If this sounds like you, then please share your story.

The Little Prince (For My Mother)

A banner adapted from http://www.lepetitprince.com/wp-content/uploads/2013/09/arsdraw.jpg, with a quote from the following piece: "Meaning something to even one star would keep me going."

For those of you who are unaware, The Little Prince by Antoine de Saint-Exupéry is a French existential tale in the guise of a children's book. The story highlights both the absurdity of adult life and the ultimate beauty and innocence of the universe in which we live. It relates the adventures of a Little Prince from Asteroid B-612 who travels to different planets, including Earth, in search of knowledge about the world around him.

I was going to publish this on my mother's birthday, February 6th, since the piece is dedicated to her. However, I missed the deadline and, well, better late than never, I suppose!

For my mother

Magniloquence

Taken from http://youthvoices.net/sites/default/files/image/10913/apr/selfesteem.png, courtesy of The Internet, as usual. Image apparently depicts all the labeling and pressure put upon young girls in the media that leads to low self-esteem— the very things that the speaker of this poem is attempting to defy in her "magniloquence."

High time for some optimistic poetry, eh?

I don't like to boast. No, really, I don't. That's not just me being modest. I don't like boasting.

That being said, this assignment for Creative Writing Class was deemed a "boast poem," though I prefer to think of it as a "confidence poem." Excuse any arrogance that you may perceive while reading this—it's part of the prompt, I swear. As was the rhyme scheme. And the number of lines. And the Maya Angelou and King Lear allusions, though I was happy to put those in.

Magniloquence

(or, A Boast of Epic Proportions)

Sonnet & Villanelle

Picture is taken from http://totheshore.files.wordpress.com/2010/04/quillpeninkwell1.jpg, courtesy of The Internet. (I seriously hope I don't get sued for that phrase sometime in the future.) It depicts a quill pen and ink, evoking Shakespearean sonnets. These poems are not quite the same as those.

Neither of the two poems I'm sharing with you today are exactly what their titles imply.

The first, a "sonnet," happens to be not of love, but of anger and even hate. Also, it is (somewhat mercifully) not directed towards a specific person, as many sonnets—be they romantic or accusatory—are. The second, a "villanelle," is written not in villanelle format, but in sonnet format. It too has a dark tone, though it is the lack of emotional articulation ability, rather than the presence, that lends it this. (It was written to be spoken in a play by an android incapable of feeling.) Grouping the two poems together is thus natural—both are melancholy sonnets that do not quite fit the connotations of their forms.

I seriously hope these poems do not upset you all.

Sonnet & Villanelle

Fly Away

From this blog. It shows a girl with wings against a bloodstain, implying that it is probably said flying-girl's blood. Gory, but strong. It fits this post.

This story—246 words long; it's what is known as "flash fiction"—is a lipogram, avoiding that glyph which follows "D" in Latin writing distribution. It was truly difficult to draft, and it infracts its own limitations at its finish. Why? For drama, naturally.

Warning: Dark. Of my various works, this would probably win an award for darkness. Shows how much pain I'm in, writing without that glyph... "Optimistic" tags = 10 posts, "dark" tags = 11 posts. Oh, no! Must jot down a happy story now...

I long for this story to satisfy any anticipation I built up....

Fly Away

Toujours (ce n'est rien)

Picture taken from http://images4.fanpop.com/image/photos/16900000/girl-and-the-rain-sad-songs-16929572-500-706.jpg. Image depicts a girl in the rain. Whether or not she is sad is up to your interpretation.

A (long) short story written for my new Creative Writing class. It has two titles because I am indecisive. Those titles are in French because that language features rather prominently in this story. 

If you are not familiar with the French language, I have tried to make some things clear from context (except when I want it to be ambiguous for dramatic effect). If you are, c'est magnifique! Hopefully the foreign words will enhance your story-reading experience. Si vous êtes français, bienvenue! Et n'ayez pas peur de corriger mes erreurs!

Why French? ...I don't know. Maybe they're from Canada.

Toujours

(ce n'est rien)

Angels

The Presentation in the Temple by Jean-Baptiste Jouvenet, the painting in the Smith College Museum of Art that hath inspired this poem. It depicts the Biblical story of presentation of Jesus in the temple, with a mournful-looking woman in the lower left-hand corner.

 Another one from my summer at Smith, but a poem this time!

This is one of my favorites from the poetry I wrote at the Smith workshop. We took a field trip to the Smith College Museum of Art and came up with poem ideas based the paintings we saw, then went back to the classroom and wrote them. There are probably twenty other ideas that I wrote down, but this is the only one  that has actually been written (so far).

For some reason, it was ridiculously hard to find an image file on the internet of this painting. 1) Jouvenet painted two "Presentation in the Temple"s, the other of which is more well-known; 2) I had been spelling his name wrong for half of my search; and 3) those that I did find had watermarks on them. But I did find it eventually, so here it is in all its glory.

Enough of my rambling, which is probably longer than the poem itself. Enjoy!

Angels

(after The Presentation in the Temple by Jean-Baptiste Jouvenet)

Falling Rocks

From http://community.sparknotes.com/index.php/2009/11/24/blogging-lord-of-the-flies-chapter-5-beast-from-water/, regarding Lord of the Flies. It doesn't quite fit with the seriousness of this piece, but it's one of the few things that made reading that book bearable.

This has been hanging around on my computer for quite some time now, and I just realized today that you all might want to read it.

I don't actually like Lord of the Flies. In fact, I hate it, almost as much as I hate The Old Man and the Sea. Actually, scrap that. The Old Man and the Sea is much, much worse.

Anyway, you may be wondering why, if I hate LOTF so much, why am I writing essentially a fanfiction about it? Good question. My answer is that the book's ending simply doesn't settle it for me. Being a person who believes in the goodness of humanity as opposed to its evil, I wanted to show a more balanced view of the universe. William Golding may disagree, but then again, I'm not writing to please him.

This piece also has the honor of being tagged with both "dark" and "optimistic." I'm not sure which outweighs which. Oh, and disclaimer: I do not own Lord of the Flies, nor do I want to. Also, spoilers if you haven't read the book.

Falling Rocks