2011-03-16, 12:49 PM
Hey all. So I'm finally taking my first creative writing seminar this semester, a fully fledged one that counts towards my major and everything and not some introductory course or whatnot, so I've been learning a lot and have enjoyed everything I've done so far. As these next few years roll around and I start really developing my skills as a writer (because, p.s., fiction writing is what I'd love to do in life), I'll post any creation I'm most proud of for your critique and/or enjoyment.
First off, as we've just finished our poetry unit, is the one poem of many thus far I'm most proud of, and feel it really captures the mood I'm trying to convey. This is actually my workshop poem within the seminar, meaning I've already received constructive criticism from 14 peers and my TA on what's good and what could use some work, but considering a revision isn't due for a while, I have other projects to focus on, and I'm on spring break, the final, revised product won't be posted here for a while. So in the meantime, enjoy the promising first draft (and again, please post constructive criticism and/or whatever you'd like if you have specific things you'd like to say; I'd love to utilize other commentary in my revision process):
Tchaikovsky's Rhinoceros
Remembering to breathe is the hardest part.
And why shouldnt it be?
The pain begins in the chest after all,
pressing in with the same kind of anxiety
that accompanies uncertainty and doubt.
The body tingles, small fireworks erupting
from fingertips, down the back,
each capturing a beat of the maddening symphony
in your mind, carrying it
to the outside world, where the puzzle is reassembled piece by piece.
Trumpets blaring, violins screeching,
the tempo flaring, the colors blinding,
You dance solely to gain control,
struggling to maintain the perfection
you had before it all began.
All of a sudden flowers bloom, and blinking
you glimpse the beating heart of the chaos,
just as in control of its actions as you hope to be of yours.
It snarls, rolling its head for you to follow,
as it stampedes along, the flowers fluttering in its wake.
Once again the circulations of melody surround your head,
threatening to penetrate your skull and leave you gasping for breath.
Breathe. And run.
Chase the thing that causes you pain.
Its within the proximity of this great beast
you feel safe and secure,
whirling in its pandemonium, but a known pandemonium.
Identity is the key.
Its the source of the tears that come
when one feels as if the stars have aligned,
in the right place, at the right time,
the center of this tempest.
All around you, emotions bubble over,
students scream, shaking signs of truth,
horrendous faces plastered to the facades
of the corner store posterboard.
Floating in the eye of the storm,
You watch as you join them,
Waving your colorful declaration of independence.
The crescendo rises,
and so does the crowd, and you,
now in the horn of this creature,
stabbing forward against this enclosure
that seeks to lock you in forever.
Together as one, the rhinoceros roars,
the glittering horn shattering the rotted wood
of broken promises.
Rejoice, rejoice
the meteors fall from the heavens!
The path is set to be paved,
and the wild animal runs,
breathing without hindrance,
fully and pure into the horizon.
I am a writer, but I cannot write
when that music beckons.
First off, as we've just finished our poetry unit, is the one poem of many thus far I'm most proud of, and feel it really captures the mood I'm trying to convey. This is actually my workshop poem within the seminar, meaning I've already received constructive criticism from 14 peers and my TA on what's good and what could use some work, but considering a revision isn't due for a while, I have other projects to focus on, and I'm on spring break, the final, revised product won't be posted here for a while. So in the meantime, enjoy the promising first draft (and again, please post constructive criticism and/or whatever you'd like if you have specific things you'd like to say; I'd love to utilize other commentary in my revision process):
Tchaikovsky's Rhinoceros
Remembering to breathe is the hardest part.
And why shouldnt it be?
The pain begins in the chest after all,
pressing in with the same kind of anxiety
that accompanies uncertainty and doubt.
The body tingles, small fireworks erupting
from fingertips, down the back,
each capturing a beat of the maddening symphony
in your mind, carrying it
to the outside world, where the puzzle is reassembled piece by piece.
Trumpets blaring, violins screeching,
the tempo flaring, the colors blinding,
You dance solely to gain control,
struggling to maintain the perfection
you had before it all began.
All of a sudden flowers bloom, and blinking
you glimpse the beating heart of the chaos,
just as in control of its actions as you hope to be of yours.
It snarls, rolling its head for you to follow,
as it stampedes along, the flowers fluttering in its wake.
Once again the circulations of melody surround your head,
threatening to penetrate your skull and leave you gasping for breath.
Breathe. And run.
Chase the thing that causes you pain.
Its within the proximity of this great beast
you feel safe and secure,
whirling in its pandemonium, but a known pandemonium.
Identity is the key.
Its the source of the tears that come
when one feels as if the stars have aligned,
in the right place, at the right time,
the center of this tempest.
All around you, emotions bubble over,
students scream, shaking signs of truth,
horrendous faces plastered to the facades
of the corner store posterboard.
Floating in the eye of the storm,
You watch as you join them,
Waving your colorful declaration of independence.
The crescendo rises,
and so does the crowd, and you,
now in the horn of this creature,
stabbing forward against this enclosure
that seeks to lock you in forever.
Together as one, the rhinoceros roars,
the glittering horn shattering the rotted wood
of broken promises.
Rejoice, rejoice
the meteors fall from the heavens!
The path is set to be paved,
and the wild animal runs,
breathing without hindrance,
fully and pure into the horizon.
I am a writer, but I cannot write
when that music beckons.
