Hope for the Flowers

From http://wallpaperstock.net/butterfly-light_wallpapers_5363_1280x1024_1.html, courtesy of The Internet.

Because our city, our nation, and all our souls could certainly do with some hope.

Here is a video of me reading my poem "To Sing to a Butterfly" alongside composer Erik Gustafson's prelude of the same name (directly inspired by the poem) as part of a piano rededication service at Old South Church in Boston, my home church and the proudly-proclaimed Church of the Finish Line, just down the street from the site of Monday's explosions. The church is now closed off as part of the crime scene; we are denied access to the beautiful pianos and stained-glass windows lying just beyond the barricade. Every one of us is—just as everyone in and outside of the city is—shaken. Sometimes, it feels as if the world is coming to an end.

But there is a quote, a beautiful quote from an anonymous sage who knows that just when the caterpillar thought the world was over, she became a butterfly. "Shaken but not forsaken," Old South continues to worship as a community, graciously hosted by the Church of the Covenant a few blocks away. Today we walked together to the boundaries of the crime scene to reclaim our finish line by singing hymns. My life flows on in endless song, above Earth's lamentation. Let there be peace on earth, and let it begin with me. Guide my feet, hold my hand, wheel with me while I run this race. This little light of mine, I'm gonna let it shine, let it shine, let it shine, let it shine...

Just when we think the world is over, defeated by grief and hate and violence, we can be transformed—not returned to the way things were before, but transformed, like butterflies, into something beautiful and profound, something that brings hope to the flowers.

"For this is the truth all nature-singers know:
When you sing to a butterfly,
you sing to yourself as well,
and you know that all things are possible."

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VC_5S-8s_mc

*listen to more of Erik's gorgeous music at http://erikmusik.net/

Wordles

Sorry for not posting regularly as of late. I've been busy having sleep disorders, 504s, and doctor's appointments. But, as a reward for y'all's patience, here's a word cloud (known as a Wordle) made up of the most frequently-used words on this blog. The bigger the word, the more frequently it is used.

Though, poem, met, like, think, shatter, monster, one, and girl seem to be leading.

As an interesting comparison, here are the wordles for drafts one and two (respectively) of my novel, The Omniscience. Note: the second draft isn't exactly finished; it stops a little less than halfway in. I really should get back to that...

Funny, the first draft appears to have less words than the second. *eyebrow raise*

Barton Hollow

Oh, look! It's me! You finally get to see my face, dear readers! And what is that blurry orange rectangle that I'm holding? It's a bird! It's a plane! It's...

...asdf'lksdjfas'dflkjads'fkja'sldkfj'!

Ahem. Let me try that again. I'm quite excited, you see. You would think that an author would have a more coherent way to express excitement than that, but apparently I don't. That's not really important, though. What's important is...

I GOT PUBLISHED!

In the Winter 2013 edition of The Marble Collection: Massachusetts High School Magazine of the Arts, there is a short story on page 14 entitled "Barton Hollow," one of five short stories in the issue. And it is mine.

There are very few words to describe how elated I am at this moment.

Barton Hollow

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

For Maya and Matilda

From http://loveforliana.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/12/footprints-snow-love-for-liana.jpg, courtesy of The Internet. 'Tis a very lovely image, methinks, and evocative of certain phrases from this poem.

Poetry fans, you're in luck--the next several posts on this blog will contain a plethora of poetry, as I have recently had to complete two collections of poetry for school. The assignment for this one was to write a poem in the style of another, more famous poet, so I have attempted to imitate the poetic style of the inestimable Maya Angelou.

Another inspiration for this poem was the story of Matilda, Lady of the English. I don't think you have to know her story to understand the poem, but it might help.

For Maya and Matilda

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