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So, looking over my entries today I noticed that people actually read this. An outstanding...erm...I forgot the word. Oh well. So, in honor of those people (from a year ago) I figured I would do a little updating.
So for those of you who might not know (probably everyone), I am a junior in college. I am a Creative Writing major, hence my love for roleplays. This summer I'll be taking a course on Harry Potter...a completely useless course but how could I call myself a fan and not take it?
Also, a year ago, I went to my first ever anime convention. Just to let you know, Sakura Con rocks! This was also my first cosplay experience. I dressed as Lulu from FFX. Also last year I had some poetry published in the community colleges creative writing magazine. Those poems follow:
Ivory Legends
A relic of a time long gone
Of a woman never met
Who traveled far across the lands
To bring a small ring back
Once a piece of a great gray beast
Strong, white and living bone
Brought down by gun or spear or age
Now yellowed and brittle stone
Lions prowled the Serengeti
Circling the tribal choirs
As a young woman wearing a gleaming ring
Walked across a searing fire
Smoke curled up like rising cobras
Into a starry night sky
And the fires of a wild child
Winked out as embers died
But the ring still lives up to this age
Fragile then ever before
To be passed with untamed stories
Of a woman whose tales are lore
----
Solitude
From a very early age
a person experiences
a moment of solitude.
A child scribbles away
with crayons in a colorful
playroom, lost in her own
world, even as other children
thrive around her.
As she grows to gangly
adolescence, she finds
that her peaceful solitude
morphs into a cage
for all the rest of the world
to gawk at.
Surrounded by so-called friends
who gossip and giggle when
they think she can’t hear,
her solitude becomes and an ugly
scarf that strangles her
and separates her from the rest.
Once more solitude becomes a haven
where a mature woman can
walk beneath summer bloomed trees
alone, but not aching from it.
The cat-calls of peers have faded
from the heart and the ugly
scarf is now a new trend.
And still, when like autumn leaves
the woman begins to age
and crinkle around the edges,
she too will give into the
solitude of winter.
---
The second one was editted in some ways but I don't have an updated version readily available so you get this one. I think that entire first stanza was removed. A word or two might have been changed as well.
Also, I successfully obtained an A.A. degree last year.
This year, I started at a University and let me tell you, community colleges are way better. They have more organization, less fees and a much friendlier atmosphere. It probably doesn't help that all my friends still attend said community college as well. University kids seem to be of a different class. D=
However, I did manage to get a poem published in the university's creative writing magazine as well. Before I post that poem, I would just like to say that the community college's book had a much better selection of works and it, like the college, was much better organized. I am very disappointed in the university's magazine. While I do realize that they don't seem to be funded like the school, that is no excuse for the layout of their book. If I have the time, I will definitely join their club in the fall and give them some input. Ok...now for that poem:
To Love an Artist
Pardon me for saying that your lips
are lips and your hair is hair. Your eyes shine
with the reflection of lights
not your own. When you laugh I hear
sadness, anger, occasionally
humor but I don’t hear
angels singing on high choir.
Your frame is gangly and
ungraceful. Your skin is slick
with the hours of hard labor at
that fast food restaurant. Those freckles
across your cheek make your skin
splotchy, blemished and pale. However,
the world is miniscule in comparison
to the power your hands possess.
They caress the bones and undress
the soul. They knead into every crevice
and send sorrows and worries
into submissiveness.
Your hands breathe
life into death and alight
fires in the night to shine bright, brighter
than any speck of light that survives
times and times past only to die
before even being sighted by our eye.
---
For this poem a comma was added and they changed the word alight to just light. Though I didn't protest (partly because I didn't know they made the changes until it was in the final press because their emails didn't work and they didn't think to call me), I strongly disliked this change. The word light is two lines below alight and to have them so close together is a no-no. It also messed up my meter. So, thought it is published with light instead of alight, I have changed it for myself to ignite.
That is all as far as updates go. xD
 CeNedra_Elessedil · Tue Jun 08, 2010 @ 09:45am · 0 Comments |
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