Journal 6

Start every line with “n” and can’t repeat “n” word again in the poem.
No letter “a”
10-line minimum

Nipping winds chomp my toes.
Novel in my tightened grip.
Nothing thick, but something to flip through.
Noon’s sun burns blissfully.
Nude dirt collides with deep green-blues.
Nibbling sun emissions on my skin.
Napping on towels dirtied by the hours.
NaCl tickling my nostrils, drying my lips.
Night will come soon, but for now, I sit.
Next day will be even lovelier.

Cento

No one remembers. Even you, my brother
and moreover, my mother told me as a boy
nobody is ever missing.

Deep in the soil deep in the gut
The livid wound leaves a trace
your shadow draws to an end.

Nothingness which longs to be the sea.
All the bells say: too late.
The cinema of sleep.

Weeping, sleepless.

Accreditation: (Gluck, Berryman, Berryman, Koch, Muench, Muench, Muench, Berryman, Berryman, Berryman)

Journal 4

The cows stand under trees in the wet grass,
lifting their necks to pull leaves down.
We slow the truck,
pull over to the side of the road to watch them.
How graceful they look,
how unlike themselves.
We get out and lean on the fence.
The cows don’t seem to notice we are there.

 

The cows stand
under trees in the wet grass,
lifting their necks
to pull leaves down.
We slow the truck,
pull over to the side of the road
to watch them.
How graceful they look,
how unlike themselves.
We get out and lean
on the fence.
The cows don’t seem to notice
we are there.

 

The cows stand under
trees in the wet grass,
lifting their necks to pull
leaves down.
We slow the truck,
pull over
to the side of the road
to watch them.
How graceful they look,
how unlike themselves.
We get out
and lean on the fence.
The cows
don’t seem to notice
we are there.

 

The first seems more like a story that flows naturally whereas the second and third appear as pensive, pondering thoughts. The second rendition really emphasizes the movement of the cows and the speakers when the line breaks just after a verb or noun related to the position or action of the creatures/speaker. The first, however, feels more natural and it is read more quickly because of the longer lines. The last two, specifically the third, are read a little slower and with less fluidity. Each rendition is just as significant as the last because the words still hold the same meaning, but the poems with more enjambed lines appear to hold more meaning because they suggest deeper meaning by the deliberateness of the line breaks.

Journal 3

Weighed down.
Can’t breath.
Water consuming me
like waves swallow the shore.

My cousin’s legs
wrapped around me
like a killer’s hands
around a victim’s throat.

My lungs
burdened by struggle,
enflamed with stale breath
dry as dust.

Suddenly, adrenaline
forces me to stand.
Cold air pierces my lungs
like a dagger through the chest.

Tears, masked
by the salt water.
My heart slows
like the pace of the waves.    

Second:

Weighed down.
Can’t breathe.
Water consuming me
like a mother coddles a child.

My cousin’s legs
wrapped around me
like holding hands
with a lover or a friend.

My lungs
burdened by struggle,
enflamed with stale breath
dry as sand.

Suddenly, adrenaline
forces me to stand.
cold air pierces my lungs
like the stare of an enemy.

Tears, masked
by the salt water.
My heart slows
like a halting train.

 

Journal 2

Between the good and the bad of Charles Dickens,
who hears the cries of the poor,
I shrieked a cry of epiphany to my teacher at the board.
She, like 75% of teachers, is female.
A
teacher is like a quote, full of inspiration.
I felt like a bonehead after my shout-
who knew her smile could reassure me?
She told me I could be writer,
but I want to be a teacher like her.
I wish to be as successful.
I wish to never fail, not even once.
Her memory is like an elephant’s.
I wonder if she likes peanuts, too.
Honey roasted peanuts are lit,
though dietary acne is not.
I want to fail sometimes.
But why?
Because I want to hammer out my flaws,
To nail my weaknesses.
I can’t stop reading.
M
y eyes are strained.
B
ut I just love words, language, and literature too much.
I want to study the Dickens of the world.
The old, musky scent of his tales, and many other author’s, like him.
Learn with me.

 

 

Journal 1

Taste: peaches, mint, cotton, honey, coffee, clementines, icing, soap, dark chocolate, kale, caramel, pennies, cardboard, cashews, vinegar

Touch: Paper, water, snow, bricks, sand, kisses, sensual, tree bark, grass, needles, eczema, grease, enflamed, frigid, cuddles

Smell: Coffee, smoke, oil, chlorine, perfume, burnt, shampoo, garlic, warm cookies, fresh air, daisies, vanilla, pumpkin spice, Spring, popcorn

Hearing: Sirens, alarm, chattering, sermon, bell, telephone, intercom, waterfalls, pen clicks, clocks, yawn, honk, hum, whistle, groan

Sight: Desk, clutter, pictures, bookshelf, road, buildings, light, dark, blurry, focused, stoplights, narrowed, foreground, unclear, obstructed

Action/Motion: Waves, cars, shoes, treadmill, running, watching, writing, smiling, jumping, laughing

Abstractions: Ambition, success, happiness

Anything else: Germany, Owen, otters, books, Anne Frank, 12:34, literature

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