Poetry

Don Paterson

Poetry 

In the same way that the mindless diamond keeps
one spark of the planet's early fires
trapped forever in its net of ice,
it's not love's later heat that poetry holds,
but the atom of the love that drew it forth
from the silence: so if the bright coal of his love
begins to smoulder, the poet hears his voice
suddenly forced, like a bar-room singer's -- boastful
with his own huge feeling, or drowned by violins;
but if it yields a steadier light, he knows
the pure verse, when it finally comes, will sound
like a mountain spring, anonymous and serene.

Beneath the blue oblivious sky, the water
sings of nothing, not your name, not mine.



This Shakespearean sonnet written by Don Patterson discusses the romanticism of poetry. In the sonnet Patterson claims that poetry cannot be written in the heat of passion, that the author needs time to pass to be able to eloquently and beautifully capture that passion or spark. The truth or a meaningful representation of those feelings may take a while to form, to be read and understood universally. He compares this process to the formation of a diamond--it begins fiery and hot coal but that heat is too boastful, and rather crude, one must wait for it to cool and calm to become a beautiful diamond. And this diamond, like a stream, becomes a universal beauty. The author chose to write this as a Shakespearean sonnet because, as with all Shakespearean sonnets it deals with a highly personal theme, and unlike the Petrarchain sonnet it does not idealize something, rather it questions and analyzes it.

Summer Noon by Christopher Brennan

Summer Noon

Fire in the heavens, and fire along the hills,

and fire made solid in the flinty stone,

thick-massed or scattered pebble, fire that fills

the breathless hour that lives in fire alone.

This valley, long ago the patient bed

of floods that carved its antient amplitude,

in stillness of the Egyptian crypt outspread,

endures to drown in noon-day's tyrant mood.

Behind the veil of burning silence bound,

vast life's innumerous busy littleness

is hushed in vague-conjectured blur of sound

that dulls the brain with slumbrous weight, unless

some dazzling puncture let the stridence throng

in the cicada's torture-point of song.

This is an English or Shakespearean sonnet which follows the ABABCDCDEFEFGG rhyme scheme. There are no real modifications to the poem; littleness and unless don't really sound the same so I guess that is a modification even though they both end in "ess." The turn in this sonnet is in line 9 which is often typical of Shakespearean sonnets. A new sentence is started there and the subject switches away from fire and floods to a wider meaning. To be honest the reason I picked this poem is because I knew nobody else would. I went to a sonnet poem website, scrolled to a random author, and randomly picked one of his poems. I did some quick research and Christopher Brennan is from Australia, so I believe the poem is describing the intense heat there. He describes the weather as fire; it weighs down on the people and tortures them. Lots of personification is used to show how the weather has changed the physical landscape and how it impacts everything and everyone. The sonnet allows for various different descriptions of the heat, and it makes the poem flow well and sound good. 

(http://www.theatlanticcities.com/technology/2013/01/nasas-alarming-map-worst-australian-heat-wave-record/4475/) It's toasty. 

 

Summer Sonnet

Summer

By:Josiah Conder

 Now day survives the sun. The pale grey skies

A sort of dull and dubious lustre keep

As with their own light shining. Nature lies

Slumbering, and gazing on me in her sleep,

So still, so mute, with fixed and soul-less eyes.

The sun is set, yet not a star is seen:

Distinct the landscape, save where intervene

The creeping mists that from the dark stream rise;

Now spread into a sea with islets broken,

And woodland points, now poised on the thin air:

In the black west the clouds a storm betoken

And all things seem a spectral gloom to wear.

The cautious bat resents the lingering light,

And the long-folded sheep wonder it is not night

http://www.sonnets.org/summer.htm

This poem is in the Petrarchan (Italian) form. Conder did make some modifications. For starters, the rhyme scheme doesn't follow the ABBAABBACDECDE, it is ABABCCB and so forth. Although the rhyme scheme differs, the volta is where it should be. (9th or so line). This ties into the message of the poem because it is all leading up to something great, but ends up not being so great. This tends to happen, we get so excited for summer that we set our expectations too high and they are often not met. Well, I was in the summery mood when I looking for a sonnet so I searched "summer sonnet" and this was the first one that came up, so naturally, I chose it. I was excited for a sonnet all about how fun and warm summertime is, but that is definitely not what this sonnet is about. This sonnet depicts summer as an almost miserable time.
 

The Human Seasons

The sonnet I chose was "The Human Seasons" by John Keats

The Human Seasons

Four seasons fill the measure of the year;
There are four seasons in the mind of Man:
He has his lusty Spring, when fancy clear
Takes in all beauty with an easy span:
He has his Summer, when luxuriously
Spring's honeyed cud of youthful thought he loves
To ruminate, and by such dreaming high
Is nearest unto heaven: quiet coves
His soul has in its Autumn, when his wings
He furleth close; contented so to look
On mists in idleness -to let fair things
Pass by unheeded as a threshold brook: -
He has his Winter too of pale misfeature,
Or else he would forgo his mortal nature.


This sonnet by Mr. Keats is a Shakespearean sonnet, as evidenced by the rhyme scheme and the location of the turn. However, the slight modification in lines 5-8 is that the rhyme scheme is not strictly CDCD, and it is bent a little bit so that it contains an eye rhyme. We do see the turn happen in the right place, though. The first 12 lines of the poem are spent describing the human seasons that fulfill our lives. Spring represents the happiness of childhood, summer the fun of young adulthood, and fall the spiritual and reflective nature of old age. But the last season, winter, is the turn. It no longer describes life, like the other three because winter represents death in its "pale misfeature" and "mortal nature". I picked this poem because I enjoyed the idea that we have phases of life where we think about and look at different things. The importance of certain things fades in and out and is always changing, an idea I thought was cool and that I very much agree with.

Sonnet XLIII by Edna St Vincent Millay

What lips my lips have kissed, and where, and why, 
I have forgotten, and what arms have lain 
Under my head till morning; but the rain 
Is full of ghosts tonight, that tap and sigh 
Upon the glass and listen for reply, 
And in my heart there stirs a quiet pain 
For unremembered lads that not again 
Will turn to me at midnight with a cry.
Thus in winter stands the lonely tree, 
Nor knows what birds have vanished one by one, 
Yet knows its boughs more silent than before: 
I cannot say what loves have come and gone, 
I only know that summer sang in me 
A little while, that in me sings no more. 

This sonnet is in the petrarchan form, which follows an abbaabba cdecde rhyme scheme -which this poem fits almost perfectly, but for the minor hiccup at the end, where it follows a cdedce rhyme scheme, simply flipping the endings of tree/me and one/gone. Although it deviates from the typical rhyme scheme a bit, the volta comes in the same place. In between lines 8 and 9, starting with "Thus in winter..." is where the sonnet begins a shift. Petrarchan sonnets generally have the first octave have a question or an observation, while the sestet answers or comments upon the observation. In this sonnet she uses the sestet to comment on her observation made in the octave, where she observes that she does not remember any of her past lovers or that she does not remember how they made her feel, is commented upon after the volta, where she muses that though she cannot remember each and every one of them, she still feels a sense of loss, that they are not there and that she cannot feel the love that she once felt for them. This muted sense of loss was what made me pick this poem - not because I particularly share her feelings here, but mostly that I like the idea that was expressed. It is simply her musing on an abstract sense of loss, not specifically because she misses any single one of her lovers but rather that she misses how they made her feel. At least platonically, I can sympathize with her. It was an interesting idea, at least.

Morpheus

“I know kung fu.” It won’t bring back the world.

5:15 a.m.: I wake from another dream,

the same as every dream. A man builds a ship

in my chest. Each of the sailors

carries by her breast a picture of her sister.

The ship is not the image of a ship.

Beyond its sails there are no stars.

The water is only water because it’s black.

 

5:15 a.m. Perhaps you’ve seen me

practicing my moves in the empty prison yard

and wondered whether you were the dreamer

conjuring me into existence from the bare

desire to caress a phantom ship

and my death the death of your desire.

This style of sonnet is Petrarchan Italian. It is supposedly about the matrix and is titled "Sonnets to Morpheus". Which is mainly why I picked the random sonnet because the Matrix is a great movie, but I wish the sonnet was about neo because he is cooler. John Beer the poet has a turn in the poem around line 9, the start of stanza 2. In the beginning he describes his dream, and in the second he is unsure if he is the dreamer or the one inside the dream, basically the story to the Matrix. I chose this sonnet because I love the Matrix, and because it goes along with the storyline of the Matrix and that is, am I awake and really in control, or am I a sailor on the phantom ship. I do not believe there are any modifications to this sonnet style, but I could easily be wrong. It has one stanza with 8 lines, the turn, and then the ending 6 lines to make it a Petrarchan sonnet.

Sonnet 60 - John Berryman

Sonnet 60 - John Berryman

Today is it?  Is it today?  I shudder

For nothing in my chair, and suddenly yawn.

Today I suddenly believe.  Since dawn

When I got up, my muscles like a rudder

strain crosswise from this work.  I rise and mutter

Something, and hum, pace, and sit down again

Hard.  A butterfly in my shoulder then

Stops and aches.  My stomach swings like a shutter.

As the undergrounds piston a force of air

Before their crash into the station, you

Are felt before your coming, and the platforms shake.

So light, so small, so far still, to impair

Action and peace so….risks we take make true

Maybe our safeties….come for our risk’s sake.

http://adyingeye.wordpress.com/2011/11/26/sonnet-60-john-berryman/

This poem is done in Petrarchan (Italian) form. There are a few modifications that John Berryman makes. For starters, the rhyme scheme is not strictly ABBAABBACDECDE but rather ABBAACCADEFDEF. "Dawn" and "Yawn" do not rhyme with "Again" and "Then" but it does generally maintain the expressed format. The volta/turn is exactly where would be expected from a Petrarchan sonnet. I picked this poem because I love John Berryman's collection of poems known as The Dream Songs. I basically just investigated the sonnets he had written until I found one I really liked (ideally one without a sappy love theme). This sonnet in particular spoke to me because it deals with travels. This sonnet reflects on the daily comings and goings of a man, and then compares them to the routine of life. The theme is an image of humanities fleeting nature, but with the ability to focus on the individual.

Loving You Less Than Life, A Little Less

"Loving You Less Than Life, A Little Less"

Edna St. Vincent Millay

Loving you less than life, a little less

Than bitter-sweet upon a broken wall

Or bush-wood smoke in autumn, I confess

I cannot swear I love you not at all.

For there is that about you in this light--

A yellow darkness, sinister of rain--

Which sturdily recalls my stubborn sight

To dwell on you, and dwell on you again.

And I am made aware of many a week

I shall consume, remembering in what way

Your brown hair grows about your brow and cheek,

And what divine absurdities you say:

Till all the world, and I, and surely you,

Will know I love you, whether or not I do.

Type of Sonnet: Petrarchan

Modifications: Standard - iambic pentameter alternates between stressed and unstressed syllables and each line is ten syllables. 

Form: Follows standard Petrarchan sonnet formula in which there is an octave, then the turn/shift in the sonnet, and then a sestet. 

Meaning/Why Chosen: The meaning of this poem, in other words, is Edna St. Vincent Millay speaking to her lover and saying "you know what, I may love you a little." She uses clever syntax in which she twists her words, particularly the line "I cannot swear I love you not at all", which if not read carefully could be misunderstood. In fact, that line amongst others needs to be re-read several times in order to understand what Millay is actually trying to convey. This sense of confusion she has created in her poem reflects the theme of her piece. The entire poem is addressed to a lover and consists of Millay attempting to relay her feelings for her lover. However, because she is so unwilling to make straightforward statements about her feelings, she captures just how un-precise her feelings are in actuality. Or perhaps, her circuitous statements are a result of her desire for them not to be as straightforward as they are. I chose this poem because I relate to Millay because I always find myself dodging statements and questions and anything confrontational, as a matter of fact, And just like Millay, I sometimes struggle between expressing un-precise feelings and dodging precise feelings. 

El Libro de Ruth

I shall set the scene. 
Famine hits Bethlehem.
Elimelech and his wife, Naomi, are forced to move east to Moab with their two sons.
Upon their arrival, they decide to just take a small sit, which leads to them living there for about ten years.
The sons marry some chicas that they find there. One is named Oprah (she later has her own talk show after the invention of the television.) and the other is Ruth.

BUT WAIT.
Suddenly Elimelech and his two sons die.
This leaves Naomi, Ruth, and Orpah to fend for themselves and they needed help. So Naomi decides to head back to Bethlehem and Ruth and Lady O  pack their luggage and join her. Naomi begs the girls to stay behind. Orpah, distraught after ending her show for this, is quick to turn back so she can start her own channel instead. Ruth, however, treks on with Naomi.

To sum things up really quickly, Bethlehem sucks too.
Naomi is depressed and "Ruth is reduced to gleaning in the barley fields." However, she does meet this dude named Boaz. Boaz is super wealthy and well known within Bethlehem, and he immediately likes Ruth and he does a little courting with her. Turns out he's also a relative of Naomi's man Elimelech, so he sorta has an obligation to marry Ruth and be a provider for her and her family.



So Naomi finds out about this, and she starts plottin' for Ruth to put a ring on it.



She tells Ruth to visit him during the night time hours and lie at his feet. Evidently, this is hella sexy. Ruth does this and Boaz is "pleasantly surprised" to see her interest.
Boy, is it getting hot in here?
Anyway, Boaz tells Ruth that he would love to marry her, but it turns out that there's another dude closer in line than he is. *dramaaaaa*
WILL RUTH END UP WITH BOAZ OR HER MYSTERY MAN??? Find out after these messages!

*messages*

Boaz finds the guy and it turns out he's only interested in buying some of the land that Naomi has, and really doesn't want to marry Ruth. So after some bargaining, the guy is like "Kay bye" and Boaz is free to marry Ruth.

Eventually, Ruth and Boaz finish lying at each others feet and have a son. The women in the town name him Obed, and he ends up being the grandfather of King David. Yay.







My topic was intercultural or interracial relationships. I guess one could say I am familiar. Evidently, this is still a big deal in the United States, which is completely ridiculous.
I saw this photoset once and it's pretty accurate.

In my most recent relationship, there was a lot of BS like this. The most common thing I got was something along the lines of "Aren't you afraid that a white  boy won't want to date you again?" and you can't even dignify it with a response. There's just nothing to say. You have someone who is just completely taking away the status of the human being standing next to you because he or she is ignorant and at that point in life, there is just nothing you can do to make them understand. I guess it's how people were raised but there's no excuse.

not so new

COLLEGE
They say high school are the greatest years of your life.
Well, I beg to differ.
The next four years have so much to offer,
I like to call the next four years college.
Don't get me wrong, high school was fun,
but there is so much more to come.

I enjoy my senior year, but I cant wait for graduation to come.
I am ready to move on with the rest of my life,
I just want to have fun.
Although high school and college greatly differ,
I feel as if I am prepared for college.
I cant wait for the opportunities it has to offer.

I know my future has so much to offer.
Spring is here, summer is to come
Once it is summer, next is college.
I know it will be the time of my life.
Although our opinions may differ,
I know it will be fun.

All of the new friends I will gain will be fun.
College will have new experiences to offer.
Our experiences may differ,
but you should be excited for what's to come.
You can reinvent yourself and have a new life,
all while in college .

Are you excited for college?
The rest of the year will be fun.
But think about next year, your new life.
Its an offer
you cant resist, and is soon to come. 
Do our opinions differ?

Our opinions may differ.
But let me tell you, your next four years will most likely be spent at college.
Don't dread what's to come,=
enjoy it and have some fun.
Don't dread what it has to offer, 
have the time of your life. 

So now I saw goodbye, as I move on with the rest of my life.
There is so much more to come, college has so much more to offer.
everyone's opinions differ, but we all know it will be fun.


I'm struggling with what to change about my sestina. When I first wrote it, I just kind of scrambled some words together and tried to make sense. But now that I re-read it, I'm conveying the exact message I wanted to. When I wrote this, I was having a really rough time and was really, really wanting a fresh start in college. My sestina seems very repetitive, I know. But its hard to make it not repetitive when i only have so many options. 

Star Wars Sestina

The best movie series is Star Wars,
as we see the rebels destroy the death star.
Led by the Jedi Luke
who defeats Darth Vader, his father.
He relies on the gift of the force,
which Yoda taught him and also gave him a lightsaber

We know he is good by the blue hue of his lightsaber.
Without Luke there is no Star Wars.
He is a jedi master, one with the force,
which he uses to destroy the death star, but was unable to save his father
I wish Leah could marry Luke

He tried his best, Luke
did, but the force and his lightsaber
wasn't enough. Luke I am your father
is the classic line from Star Wars.
The empire is gone, as is the death star
only hope survives, as well as the force.

It is a symbol for the jedis, the force.
The rebels need more like Luke
incase the Empire rebuilds the Death Star.
There is no end of the lightsaber
and hopefully no end to Star Wars,
because there will always be a son and a father.

Everyone forgets about Luke's father,
he was once strong wight he force.
He is the sole reason for Star Wars.
He the creator, and Luke
the follower. He was given his father's lightsaber.
So he could use it to destroy the Death Star.

The Empire is stupid, and so is the Death Star.
The movie was predictable, Darth Vader means Dark Father.
This is a lie,because he once used a blue lightsaber.
And didn't use the dark side, but the force.
Annakin died, and his son rose from the ashes, Luke.
This has been a recap of Star Wars.

So we know the Death Star was destroyed by the force.
Luke discovered his father.
and the lightsaber will be known as a part of Star Wars.

New and Improved

Summer

When the bell rings on June 6th: summer.

The papers fly up in joy. 

We scream and run towards the sun, 

our worries replaced with freedom. 

We can’t wait for the upcoming fun. 

Our brains are liberated from thoughts of school. 

I’m really ready to be done with school.

Only 2 and a half months ‘til summer.

Senior year is great but summer is more fun, 

Warm weather is a joy. 

After school ends, I’ll have freedom, 

My only desire is basking in the sun. 

Ouch! Hopefully I’m not burnt from the rays of the sun.

Any burn can be cooled by focusing on the pain from school, 

But I do appreciate senior year’s newfound freedom. 

I hope this weekend is a tease of summer;

My week has earned 2 days of pure joy.

Boys also just want to have fun!

I just want to go to King’s Island and have fun

With my friends and get a sun-

tan and radiate joy. 

Don’t get me wrong, sometimes I enjoy school, 

But not as much as the pure bliss of summer,

Nor as the 4th of July where I celebrate freedom. 

Red, white, and blue gotta love freedom. 

Fireworks and hotdogs, true fun

Only happens during summer.

Falling asleep in hammocks under the sun, 

Head vacant from any thoughts of school.

Nap time is my favorite joy. 

When Labor Day comes, my joy

Is over. Soon I lose all of my freedom.

College comes around just like better high school, 

All my fun

In the sun

Has come to a close, goodbye summer. 

All great fun and freedom must come to an end,

My joy is replaced with school. 

Goodbye sun, Adios summer.  

The main thing I changed in my sestina is one of the end words. I changed sestina to school because it made more sense and was easier to make logical. I also changed various phrasing throughout the poem but nothing too major. I actually enjoyed writing this I thought it was fun, and it made me appreciate poets who are actually good at this and can make a living from it. 

the dsm-iv

Don't read this. please

Ten years ago, this started. And I’m only eighteen
An eight-year old couldn't have a concept of this but
Here it is
To tell the truth, the fear’s been here all along
Worthy of its station, a true and proven friend
Only at sixteen did it have a name

And what a name
Strange it’s been with me for so long and I haven’t known. From a child to eighteen
I've gone in and out through many a friend
I felt it there but
I hadn't known the professionals had it written, had my number all along
People like me aren't supposed to have this. But here it is

I’m in this room; where’s the doctor, there she is
Prodding me, asking me questions; first, my name
She makes it seem like this is no big deal. Just talk; we’re alike, you and I will get along (I can tell)
I tell her I’m sixteen. This was late 2012; to think now I’m nearly eighteen
I didn't belong in a place like that but
I talked, and she tells me I have to stay. They take away my phone; I ask my mom to tell my closest friend

My mind put me here; in this prison, this cage where I haven’t a single friend
The nurses come every hour and we have to talk or we’ll stay longer and this girl is
Sitting across from me, telling us her father molested her sister. Another put a gun to her head before the cops came in. I thought I didn't belong here but
They've met the dsm-iv. they know my condition by name
The youngest is fifteen and the oldest eighteen
Maybe I really did belong here all along

Over two weeks have passed, time moves along
It’s not fun; I can’t say I made a friend
I’m more than ready to escape by day eighteen
But in an odd sort of way, how beautiful it is
For once to know I’m not alone; a place away from the world, where they know only my first name
I still catch myself at odd moments wishing I wasn't born this way but

At least I was afforded the joy of suffering with others. Nobody outside had ever heard of my medications but
There they did.  Everyone; it’s like they knew it—knew me all along
And a good friend of mine—they knew her by name
For a minute—just a minute, maybe—I began to think she might not be my only friend
The nurse told my mother Monday—it's marked on the calendar, there it is
But so much has become familiar here in these few weeks that it feels I've lived my life and turned eighteen.

Paris and the Golden Apple

When the goddess of discord and strife was not invited to an important wedding, she decided to cause trouble by throwing a golden apple amidst the crowd.  The golden apple was marked for the fairest of the goddesses and was immediately claimed by all three goddesses: Hera, Aphrodite, and Athena. This in turn prompted a beauty contest between the three of them for the apple. Paris was to pick the winner of the contest and naturally, each goddess attempted to bribe him and sway him in their favor. Hera offered power, Athena offered military victory, and Aphrodite offered him the most beautiful woman in the world. Paris chose Aphrodite. Turns out, the most beautiful woman of the world was Helen, Queen of Sparta. So when Paris abducted her all of Greece declared war on Troy resulting in the Trojan War and the eventual destruction of Troy.

((Also all y'all art history folk the picture is a Rubens - look at that red! how fitting that we just learned that.))

As for divine food - oh boy, any food is just downright delicious. (I'm interpreting divine in the sense of outrageously good and not otherworldly, hope thats ok/correct?) I could rave about food for hours, and that's not even an exaggeration. I also like weird food combinations - my cat gets that from me, she'll eat flavored yogurt and olives over her cat food any day. I could literally put peanut bitter on anything. I mean there are people who like peanut butter, some people who love peanut butter, and then there are people like me who will literally eat the stuff straight out the jar with a spoon and have no shame. Croissants, can't live without them either. Or peaches, or feta cheese, or rice....literally, I could list different foods I love for hours. I treat food with respect. I'm under the impression that the presentation of the food is half the taste of the food itself; thus, I always try and present food the nicest way possible. There's this quote I love and I can't remember who said it (he was French) but it went something like, "the act of eating is an art." You go French homeboy, you know what you're talking about. I don't guys, this second part of this post is just meandering along and struggling to make a point, but I just really like that quote. And food. Especially when it looks nice. I guess I'll end on this note: respect your food. Like the apple, you never know when a single piece of food might completely change your life around.

Paris and the Golden Apple--God Drama

Paris trying to decided which goddess is the fairest, and obviously having a huge mental struggle.

As for the story of Paris and the Golden Apple, for that matter, all of Paris’s life, the fates had a little too much fun. And the gods played with what was left of his sad fate. He truly struggled, even when he was a baby. While his mother was pregnant she had an eye-opening dream that her son was a torch (um ok) and that he was the ruin of the city of Troy. She told this tidbit to a seer who told her that her son was most definitely gonna be the end of Troy. The seer deserves a pat on the back because he was enlightened enough to see that she would have a son AND that he would be a city-destroyer. Or he was just sexist. Never mind. Well, obviously Hecuba (his mother) decided to nip that disaster in the bud and kill her son. So she gave him to a shepherd to leave out in the mountains and die. Unfortunately, she did not check with Iocaste first, maybe because she had already committed suicide, or she was not yet born. If she had checked, she should have known that the shepherd thing just would not work out well. As we already guessed, Paris was suckled by a she-bear and managed to hold on to the stings of life until the guilty shepherd came back to rescue him and raise him as his own.

(This story has three parts. The Greeks were thorough.)

Part Two: By this time, Paris had grown up into basically the sexiest shepherd lad in the land. His good looks did not serve him well because he got caught up in God Drama. God Drama is fun to watch, not be a part of. Every mortal should know that. What happened was these two minor gods got married and invited everyone on Mt. Olympus and except for Eris to the wedding. I mean, I can see why they did it because she is the goddess of discord and strife, but really I still find that decision ridiculously stupid. What is stupider is that Aurora’s parents did not learn from this. So the pissed of Eris did what she did best, she created discord and strife. She threw a golden apple into the party that said “to the fairest”. Apparently, all of the goddesses were too distracted by its shininess to be weirded out that a random apple was thrown in the middle of their throne room. Of course, Hera, Aphrodite and Athena all that that they were the fairest, and that they deserved the apple. Dumb. Because they hadn’t learned rock paper scissors, they asked Zeus to decide. But Zeus was a very smart dude who knew that he had no time or energy to waist getting mixed up in that, because he had unsuspecting mortals to be chasing after. So he appointed a lowly (but sexy) shepherd guy to decide. ENTER PARIS. When asked, he decided that the goddesses were all equally gorgeous/beautiful/radiant and he told them that he couldn’t choose. I still am not sure if this was quick bargaining skills or indecisiveness because they all bribed him to be proclaimed the fairest in all of the land. Hera told him that she would grant him great power—all of Asia to rule. Athena would bestow upon him awe-inspiring wisdom and strategy in battle. But Aphrodite offered him the love of the most beautiful women on earth, Helen, the Queen of Sparta. And what does a sexy shepherd lad want more than power and wisdom? A sexy shepherd lass, or a Queen. So he decided that Aphrodite was the fairest and went off to claim his married ladylove.

That is the story of Paris and the Golden Apple but I will tell you part three because it is important/fascinating and this isn’t long enough. You all pretended to read the Iliad Freshman year, so you should know that King Menelaus of Sparta was not too pleased that a shepherd came into his house, seduced his wife and ran off with her. Oops. Paris took Helen to Troy. Da da da. You dirty fates. So Menelaus and his brother, Agamemnon gathered their troops and went off to fight a ten year war against Troy. During this war Paris kills Achilles in a total upset and we are introduced to Odysseus. From this epic, we move on to the Odyssey, which is only the greatest/longest thing I have read except for Harry Potter.

So what did we learn? The fates control everything. But they let the gods have their fun as long as things go their way in the end. And at least two Disney stories bear an uncanny resemblance to this myth.

I am supposed to tell you about divine food. How fitting. I write a food blog. PAD THAI. Obviously. Also, because I made bread yesterday I’m gonna have to say the second most divine is bread and cheese. After that are freshly made crepes with cinnamon and sugar. And also most all food when you are hungry. Strawberries.

pad thai yum yum yum yum yum yum

I DEEPLY APOLOGIZE FOR HOW LONG THIS IS. When I present I will talk fast, or skip over some stuff that I wrote only for my own amusement.

Breaking the Ice

Tonight I went on Facebook to look.
I wanted to see the you I remember.
You're still beautiful,
But not the beautiful I see in these photos.
Now you're just beautiful on the outside,
Killing anything that peers in.

A few months ago I tried to look in
And at the time it was just a look.
But you made sure to keep me on the outside
Thinking I'd give up so easily, but remember
I set my heart on things and cling to the photos
That hold my memories, even when they aren't so beautiful.

Even when it didn't feel so beautiful,
You were the soul I found comfort in.
So I called you, and I was looking at that photo,
And I craved more than just a look.
It was a longing for you, the you I remember,
But she no longer exists. The you I remember is only a mirage on the outside,

And you keep me on the outside
Looking in. I miss you because what we shared was beautiful,
As fucking intense as it was. I wanted the us like I remember,
Though I know that's out of the question. I threw my two pennies in,
But I never told you I missed you. I just told you I wanted the one look.
And so now all I've got is these photos,

And God I want so much more. Photos
Don't even begin to show how we really were, not even on the outside.
This isn't how it was supposed to be, or even how it was supposed to look.
We were supposed to grow up together and have something so beautiful
And here we are instead. Here we are in
the same room, avoiding eye contact, denying ourselves a love so beautiful.

We spoiled a something so beautiful
Over nothing. And now we're nothing like the photos,
Nothing like my memories. We're cold. And in
All honesty, I know we would never work now. Outside
of a forced contact, we're nothing. God, you're so beautiful,
But I can't stand to see you anymore. I can't stand to look.

But I do look, and I remember, and I stare.
You're so beautiful, But you're only a memory
From a photo, forever frozen, and I can't break the ice.



Paragraph thingy:
Okay I changed what some would call a lot. In my original, I had some wordy stanzas, and so I changed the third and fourth stanzas quite a bit. I also did the last stanza incorrectly, so I fixed that. And I like it much better this way. Shoutout to Sarah for being the best peer editor ever.

New Look

In the 1950’s Dior created the “New Look”

for women to look more like women,

after they had to spend the war looking like men.

I hate that

But I also love it.

Skirts meant you couldn’t wear the pants, not in the 1950’s.

Women were relegated to the kitchen in the 1950’s.

They would cook dishes and look

out for their husband, for when they made it

home. And after they ate, the women

would wash dished while the men played that

game that was just for men.

I think understand why men

came home in the 1950’s

and allowed their wives to look like that.

They hadn’t seen the “Old Look,”

the way that the women

were able to do all of it

I don’t know if they missed it

after welcoming back the men

and going back to their duties as women.

Time went backwards in the 1950’s,

women got their new look.

But is that that?

I love that

New Look, I just adore it.

But only the look.

Created by men

In the 1950’s

For women

Can a woman look like a woman?

Could the men understand that?

Now, not in the 1950’s.

To be able to wear it

but act like a man.

That should be the New “New Look”.

For women to look like women without forgetting that it

doesn’t mean that we have to leaving wearing the pants to the men.

I want to go back to the 1950 but only for the look.