The entries on the post secret site greatly resemble poems. Their style is to be concise and dramatic. Like the Haiku, the last line or last few words deliver the most impact. Also the way the words appear on the postcard reflect some artistry. Sometimes words are scattered throughout the card or different colors etc. This quality is similar to concrete poems, or the poems we read in class. The postcards are either funny/reveal a quirky habit, or extremely serious and life-changing. Often times though, I think the posts are a little over the top. They seem to be sensational and are maybe sent to shock readers as well as get your postcard. I don't thnk that postsecrets are incredibly beneficial though...I have a problem with the idea that people can use these to glamorize their problems and find solace in that they are publicly ______ (insert something negative)..I know there are positive postsecrets, but I just don't like the negative ones, like people are given the outlet to wallow in their self-pity...I don't know, I just don't like the need to share some really private secret anonymously like that...I guess the positive result could be that after reading postsecret entries, you can walk away feeling grateful that you don't have to deal with certain issues as well as see how some people do things just like you...like your idiosyncrasies can sometimes match up with other people.
don't think I would want to share my secrets with the world, I am a believer in cherishing the sanctity of your own little secrets. Big, harmful ones, no. But the ones that need no validation or critique from anyone else, whether you're asking for that or not, are the most sweet. The solitude of your own mind can be liberating...
Sunday, February 28, 2010
Friday, February 19, 2010
poe.try.
Tangible Soul
It sat in the upper right hand corner of the shelf
Mahogany and dust filled all of the other nooks,
except this one.
Light flecked off of each cut of the crystal
From time to time it caught his eye
He peered up at it whenever his pen was too heavy,
Or his papers became too thick
It sat, perfectly still,
Just like it is now
But with every ray of sun,
He could see it beat
Sometimes so quickly
That it became a glorious hum
With a creak and rustle,
he would lean back against the warm leather,
And watch the luminous gleam set with the sinking sun
Guests stopped and inspected
He wouldn’t tell them,
But always thought to say:
“Call her crazy, but she gave me her heart,
And there it is, up in that nook forever”
It sat in the upper right hand corner of the shelf
Mahogany and dust filled all of the other nooks,
except this one.
Light flecked off of each cut of the crystal
From time to time it caught his eye
He peered up at it whenever his pen was too heavy,
Or his papers became too thick
It sat, perfectly still,
Just like it is now
But with every ray of sun,
He could see it beat
Sometimes so quickly
That it became a glorious hum
With a creak and rustle,
he would lean back against the warm leather,
And watch the luminous gleam set with the sinking sun
Guests stopped and inspected
He wouldn’t tell them,
But always thought to say:
“Call her crazy, but she gave me her heart,
And there it is, up in that nook forever”
Monday, February 8, 2010
Whas Happnin
Too much school at the moment. All of my time has been eaten up by school and work, and I miss doing things that I actually like doing. When it comes to what's happening, I got in a scary car accident last week (Thank God, I'm 100% fine) and my airbags deployed. Those airbags saved my face and probably even my life. The accident was the other driver's fault, which made me realize how dangerous other drivers can be, and no matter what you do--your fate may just be to get hit. So, I was extremely grateful to be unharmed and unscathed by the car and even my airbag. I was reading about how airbags can be extremely dangerous and break people's bones in their face and hands. Also, many people reported getting burned. Here's a link that explains how airbags work in-depth:
http://www.airbagonoff.com/airbag%20safety.htm
Just an informational read, I would check it out because you never know when you might get in an accident.
http://www.airbagonoff.com/airbag%20safety.htm
Just an informational read, I would check it out because you never know when you might get in an accident.
mmm Haiku
Strong
Silver,shining hair
Subtle sorrow in her eyes
I love my mother
--
Reminisce
We laugh in the car
Moonlight quickly disappears
Memory always
---
Liberation
She covers herself
They say she is oppressed
She is the most free
---
Winter
Bitter cold burns skin
Gray skies envelope the sun
The Oaks are now bare
Silver,shining hair
Subtle sorrow in her eyes
I love my mother
--
Reminisce
We laugh in the car
Moonlight quickly disappears
Memory always
---
Liberation
She covers herself
They say she is oppressed
She is the most free
---
Winter
Bitter cold burns skin
Gray skies envelope the sun
The Oaks are now bare
Sunday, February 7, 2010
mmm...poetry
The City
by C. P. Cavafy Translated by Edmund Keeley
You said: "I'll go to another country. go to another shore,
find another city better than this one.
Whatever I try to do is fated to turn out wrong
and my heart lies buried like something dead.
How long can I let my mind moulder in this place?
Wherever I turn, wherever I look,
I see the black ruins of my life, here,
where I've spent so many years, wasted them, destroyed them totally."
You won't find a new country, won't find another shore.
This city will always pursue you.
You'll walk the same streets, grow old
in the same neighborhoods, turn gray in these same houses.
You'll always end up in this city. Don't hope for things elsewhere:
there's no ship for you, there's no road.
Now that you've wasted your life here, in this small corner,
you've destroyed it everywhere in the world.
I appreciated this poem because it speaks of the illusion of travel. Existence can be a hard pill to swallow and this poem reflects what I believe to be an innate struggle: the want to escape. When things get tough or our surroundings feel dull, I think human beings want to get up and leave their lives in search of something new, exciting and novel. That seemingly wonderful elixir we make world travel out to be can turn poisonous quite fast. This poem talks about being trapped in the city, yet the very last line holds the intended meaning. ‘You’ve destroyed it everywhere in the world’—think about what this means, the author seems to be telling us that if you waste your life in one place, you’ve wasted it everywhere in the world. Humans are always reaching for the next level, always wanting more and this poem reflects how the chase for euphoria can be destructive. In my opinion, there is no such thing as sustainable happiness, there is only contentedness. We are all limited by circumstance, and through these circumstances we must realize that some things will be attainable while others will not. It’s not to say that we should settle, but rather we should be satisfied with that which we cannot change.
Man in the street
He claps a hand
Across the gaping hole
Or else the sight might
Well inside to
Melt the mind (if any
Thinking spoke
Were in the wheel,
Or any real
Fright-fragments broke
Out of the gorge to
Soak the breast, the meaning
Might incite a stroke—best
Press against it, close
The clawhole, stand
In stupor, petrified. The dream
Be damned, the deeps defied.
The hands to keep
The scream inside
--Heather McHugh
THIS POEM WAS AWESOME
And I’m still not sure exactly why…
I didn’t understand what was happening, but it was so dramatic I pictured some movie-like scene. I really liked how once again, the climax is at the end. Her usage of verbs and the way she rhymed the words brimmed with a sense of drama that made the poem read well in my head. I actually liked how it was difficult to understand what it meant because it forces you to read it over and think what she meant by each part. I would say that this poem was artfully confusing.
We live in deeds, not years; in thoughts, not breaths
by Philip James Bailey
We live in deeds, not years; in thoughts, not breaths;
In feelings, not in figures on a dial.
We should count time by heart-throbs. He most lives
Who thinks most, feels the noblest, acts the best.
And he whose heart beats quickest lives the longest:
Lives in one hour more than in years do some
Whose fat blood sleeps as it slips along their veins.
Life's but a means unto an end; that end,
Beginning, mean, and end to all things—God.
The dead have all the glory of the world.
I loved this poem because it reflected the ‘Carpe Diem’ type of thought. Life is short and to live each moment with urgency seems only appropriate when you consider that death is ultimate reality. This poem had a moral background, which personally, I liked. It fell in with how I see things. I really like the motivational flare as well, it seemed to be a poem that is trying to call people toward living life to the fullest and really appreciating the sanctity of time. Did you notice the term 'fat blood'--loved that. Fat blood makes one think of a person who is so gluttonous that even their blood is lazy and slips through their veins slowly. The heart beat being quick also reflects the idea that one is moving, acting, and DOING. Action with intention behind them is to be essentially human, and I think this poem touched on that quite well...
by C. P. Cavafy Translated by Edmund Keeley
You said: "I'll go to another country. go to another shore,
find another city better than this one.
Whatever I try to do is fated to turn out wrong
and my heart lies buried like something dead.
How long can I let my mind moulder in this place?
Wherever I turn, wherever I look,
I see the black ruins of my life, here,
where I've spent so many years, wasted them, destroyed them totally."
You won't find a new country, won't find another shore.
This city will always pursue you.
You'll walk the same streets, grow old
in the same neighborhoods, turn gray in these same houses.
You'll always end up in this city. Don't hope for things elsewhere:
there's no ship for you, there's no road.
Now that you've wasted your life here, in this small corner,
you've destroyed it everywhere in the world.
I appreciated this poem because it speaks of the illusion of travel. Existence can be a hard pill to swallow and this poem reflects what I believe to be an innate struggle: the want to escape. When things get tough or our surroundings feel dull, I think human beings want to get up and leave their lives in search of something new, exciting and novel. That seemingly wonderful elixir we make world travel out to be can turn poisonous quite fast. This poem talks about being trapped in the city, yet the very last line holds the intended meaning. ‘You’ve destroyed it everywhere in the world’—think about what this means, the author seems to be telling us that if you waste your life in one place, you’ve wasted it everywhere in the world. Humans are always reaching for the next level, always wanting more and this poem reflects how the chase for euphoria can be destructive. In my opinion, there is no such thing as sustainable happiness, there is only contentedness. We are all limited by circumstance, and through these circumstances we must realize that some things will be attainable while others will not. It’s not to say that we should settle, but rather we should be satisfied with that which we cannot change.
Man in the street
He claps a hand
Across the gaping hole
Or else the sight might
Well inside to
Melt the mind (if any
Thinking spoke
Were in the wheel,
Or any real
Fright-fragments broke
Out of the gorge to
Soak the breast, the meaning
Might incite a stroke—best
Press against it, close
The clawhole, stand
In stupor, petrified. The dream
Be damned, the deeps defied.
The hands to keep
The scream inside
--Heather McHugh
THIS POEM WAS AWESOME
And I’m still not sure exactly why…
I didn’t understand what was happening, but it was so dramatic I pictured some movie-like scene. I really liked how once again, the climax is at the end. Her usage of verbs and the way she rhymed the words brimmed with a sense of drama that made the poem read well in my head. I actually liked how it was difficult to understand what it meant because it forces you to read it over and think what she meant by each part. I would say that this poem was artfully confusing.
We live in deeds, not years; in thoughts, not breaths
by Philip James Bailey
We live in deeds, not years; in thoughts, not breaths;
In feelings, not in figures on a dial.
We should count time by heart-throbs. He most lives
Who thinks most, feels the noblest, acts the best.
And he whose heart beats quickest lives the longest:
Lives in one hour more than in years do some
Whose fat blood sleeps as it slips along their veins.
Life's but a means unto an end; that end,
Beginning, mean, and end to all things—God.
The dead have all the glory of the world.
I loved this poem because it reflected the ‘Carpe Diem’ type of thought. Life is short and to live each moment with urgency seems only appropriate when you consider that death is ultimate reality. This poem had a moral background, which personally, I liked. It fell in with how I see things. I really like the motivational flare as well, it seemed to be a poem that is trying to call people toward living life to the fullest and really appreciating the sanctity of time. Did you notice the term 'fat blood'--loved that. Fat blood makes one think of a person who is so gluttonous that even their blood is lazy and slips through their veins slowly. The heart beat being quick also reflects the idea that one is moving, acting, and DOING. Action with intention behind them is to be essentially human, and I think this poem touched on that quite well...
Thursday, February 4, 2010
Makkah
i m a g i n e...
The quiet of the night is sparsely broken with a passing car rumbling down the streets and the murmur of television in the other room. I am waiting for the night silence to be broken by the call to prayer. The cold, dry Michigan air is turning my skin to crocodile scales as I cucoon myself in layers of sheets and bedcovers. I long for the humid desert air to moisten my sinuses and fill my lungs, I long for Arabia. I miss Saudi with such fervor, I often succomb to a blissful day dream. This daydream is the culprit that steals me away from the present and envelopes me in its vivid detail. I imagine my brother's simple, yet cozy apartment in Mecca. It is just before dawn and the stillness of the night is at its peak. Suddenly with the utmost clarity, the call to prayer reverberates through every fixture of the abode. The apartment suddenly grows with life as everyone leaps out of bed in the rush to prayer. The once empty streets are filled with people pacing quickly through the paved roads. The faint light of a disappearing moon leads the people through the enveloping darkness. As I draw nearer and nearer to the most holy mosque, the shining lights and eloquent boom of the the 'Adhaan' swims through the air for my eyes and ears to taste. As I turn the final corner through the winding streets, the minarets reaching for the heavens, glowing with light, expel the air from my lungs leaving me breathless in awe. The prayer of thousands concentrated in this holy city is overwhelming. I stand to pray, shoulder to shoulder, side to side with my brothers and sisters for only one reason: to glorify the Lord. The Imam leads the prayer with such eloquence and perfect allocution of the Qur'an that every word is brimming with its intended meaning. The subtle, yet surgical fluctiuation in his voice sings the praises of the Lord that we so often recite. I imagine the scene, of which I've been so blessed to experience before.
My life feels incomplete without another visit.
till then, my dreams are monopolized by this incredible dream.
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