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Apr. 28th, 2005 05:50 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
meoraePoetry
A puzzle that
Plagues our mind
Until someone
Shows us the answer.
A door
In the way
Of knowledge
Until it opens.
A beautiful flower
That blooms
But then does nothing
Until it dies.
Confusing and
Filled with darkness
Until someone
Lights a match.
Poetry is like art
Made from trash:
Beautiful, except
Still a pile of garbage.
Darkness, confusion
Double-entendres.
Paradoxes, irony.
Poetry has them all.
Knowledge, truth
Opinions and beauty.
Poetry has all of
These too.
However, rhythm
Rhyme and length –
None of these
Matter.
Poetry is not
Made up of words.
Instead, it is formed
With emotions.
Why do I always end up with exactly 100 words for my poems? Otis better be happy. I had similes and metaphors and paradoxes and symbolism. And it's a poem about the nature of poetry. My only homework for tonight.
History was sortof fun today. That's just because he switched up the groups, so it wasn't the same old people, and we didn't have to listen to him talk the whole period. So we were creating advertisement slogan things for the political parties of the Wiemar Republic. My group got communism. And the first idea mentioned was by Ben who said that we should somehow involve sex in the poster because sex sells. So we created the slogan of:
Socialism
Equality
Xenophobia-free.
And Chebator didn't notice it when he walked by. Obviously.
My mom's off in New York for the weekend, so I get the house to myself today and tomorrow after school until my brother and dad get home. Well, there's my brother.
Twinkie is letting people pet her more often now. She still runs away if she hears loud noises, but so do the rest of our cats. She hasn't attacked any of them today, but that will probably change soon.
I'm done with my homework. And I don't have history tomorrow. So that's good.
Except for the cramps, and headaches and blood. But I haven't snapped at anyone, for once. I normally do, and it's normally at my brother. And so I'm sorry William for that. But you try being female. I'll shut up now. And go take a nap or something. Stupid headache. Turning off my computer as that's probably making it worse.
A puzzle that
Plagues our mind
Until someone
Shows us the answer.
A door
In the way
Of knowledge
Until it opens.
A beautiful flower
That blooms
But then does nothing
Until it dies.
Confusing and
Filled with darkness
Until someone
Lights a match.
Poetry is like art
Made from trash:
Beautiful, except
Still a pile of garbage.
Darkness, confusion
Double-entendres.
Paradoxes, irony.
Poetry has them all.
Knowledge, truth
Opinions and beauty.
Poetry has all of
These too.
However, rhythm
Rhyme and length –
None of these
Matter.
Poetry is not
Made up of words.
Instead, it is formed
With emotions.
Why do I always end up with exactly 100 words for my poems? Otis better be happy. I had similes and metaphors and paradoxes and symbolism. And it's a poem about the nature of poetry. My only homework for tonight.
History was sortof fun today. That's just because he switched up the groups, so it wasn't the same old people, and we didn't have to listen to him talk the whole period. So we were creating advertisement slogan things for the political parties of the Wiemar Republic. My group got communism. And the first idea mentioned was by Ben who said that we should somehow involve sex in the poster because sex sells. So we created the slogan of:
Socialism
Equality
Xenophobia-free.
And Chebator didn't notice it when he walked by. Obviously.
My mom's off in New York for the weekend, so I get the house to myself today and tomorrow after school until my brother and dad get home. Well, there's my brother.
Twinkie is letting people pet her more often now. She still runs away if she hears loud noises, but so do the rest of our cats. She hasn't attacked any of them today, but that will probably change soon.
I'm done with my homework. And I don't have history tomorrow. So that's good.
Except for the cramps, and headaches and blood. But I haven't snapped at anyone, for once. I normally do, and it's normally at my brother. And so I'm sorry William for that. But you try being female. I'll shut up now. And go take a nap or something. Stupid headache. Turning off my computer as that's probably making it worse.
