Response to Concept: 11/4/19

Even though I already wrote about negation in my previous post, I wanted to focus more on how silence affects negation. Silence is the key to negating all outside distractions and focusing on the important. Zapruder states, "It is the silence that draws me into speaking." (202) I can empathize with that greatly. When it comes to everyday situations, I tend to open up more around typically "shy" people. I feel more of a sense of comfort around those who are demure and quiet and allow space for my voice to shine. It is not to say that I am completely in my shell around loud people, but it definitely takes longer for me to open up around this kind of person. When it comes to writing, I feel the same way. It is much easier for me to be drawn into writing when it is completely silent. It is through the silence where I feel I can finally breathe and pave my thoughts onto paper.

Poem Response-"Women's Locker Room" 11/2/19

I will try to focus on the aesthetics of this poem such as the visual appearance and also focus on the actual content. On paper, the poem has such a beauty to it. The stanzas are all the approximate length with the exception of one seemingly shorter than the rest. The way it is formatted sparks the allusion of storytelling. While reading the actual poem, it feels like the readers are being told a story, one of which is uncomfortable and obtrusive. As someone who hated locker rooms in high school, I can contend with this uneasy situation. I remember specifically trying to find a bathroom in which I could change rather than changing in the dreaded locker room. Besides the point, there are phrases that call back these uncomfortable memories. Phrases like "childhood taunts, branded ears" remind me of the annoying teens who shuffled in the locker room after health class. Not only does it depict the emotion so accurately, but it also paints pictures in my mind which I would never have imagined. The phrase "divide like an amoeba into twin rages that stomp around" is quite simply remarkable. The way it flows off the tongue is beautiful, the lyrical sound rings in my ears, but it is also the imagery which is wowing. I can just imagine an amoeba dancing trying to find its twin. The poem does a great job of making a connection between completely unrelated things, and I loved the format of telling the story.

New Poem: "Ode to the Rose" - 11/4/19

Oh thy rose

as red as ripe wine.

Your succulent taste stains

my teeth with your floral aroma. 

Oh thy rose 

with such petals that

fly to meet men’s pink thighs.

How your sweet touch 

makes men believe.

Oh thy rose 

with spirits that waft

into one’s senses.

Intoxicating, enriching the young mind.

Oh thy rose 

with an edge to

such gentle nature 

that pricks wavering hands.

Oh thy rose,

You are melted sin 

that heats my supper and burns

my raw lips, yearned to be smoothed.

Oh thy rose,

Your sweet kiss stains

my lips with red ink and I taste 

your tongue curling in me. 

Oh thy rose,

You are open like a blossom

waiting for its bee to sprinkle

yellow feathers onto soft skin.

Oh thy rose,

You whisper kindly 

cloud dreams drifting

down to touch wet earth.

Your soft skin,

delicate at the touch,

when rubbed too firmly,

tatters to tiny red babies

that yearn to be touched once

again. Oh thy rose with such

beauty and prose, you are the

symbol of red lust. Your name

a reminder of the flower between thighs.

How it must be cared for gently. 

You are pure as snow but tainted with blood

that is rich, thick syrup. I nuzzle my nose in 

your center and find such a smell unique to 

all men. Why it is not sweet nor bitter. My nose

tastes your gentle hand pushing me further.

Oh thy rose with soft petals. When rubbed

your sweet color stains my white hands. Your

touch is gentle and fresh. You are everything pure. You are

everything, my pure desire. You are the heart of

all romantic pursuits. You are the love

which I dream. And when my lover opens thy door,

I will greet with your blossom of beauty. 

Poem Response: 10/28

Negation is eliminating something to focus on something else. It is a sort of meditation where we eliminate things to extend our possibilities. We alight something new out of the void. I have often felt this in spiritual moments. When I still identified as a Christian, I would oftentimes take great joy in praying or participating in adoration. The room would be empty, words lacking, with only a light to fill the room. In this emptiness, I felt the most whole. I focused on the interior and eliminated-for the time being-the exterior: the sounds constantly distracting from the important. I focused on what was important, myself. I would think of what needed to be improved. At the time of my first adoration, I prayed about my alcoholic father and narcissistic, abusive aunt. I focused on how they hurt me and how I no longer wanted to hurt. I felt a sense of tranquility by indulging in my pain and felt like I came to a general consensus within myself- something needed to be fixed and it could be done by analyzing each and every hurtful experience. I thought about how I could grow as a person; how I could help others even more. The room was empty, soundless, but my mind was loud and full. As a non-believer, I reflect on those times and realized that what was gained was spiritual, but, not in the holy sense. It was a sort of spirituality of delving into my innermost thoughts, gaining more possibilities, by eliminating the distracting. When I read "Final Soliloquy of the Interior Paramour", I could empathize with the situation for the very same reason. We both gained a spiritual sense through negation. We both encountered something beautiful by alighting endless possibilities and by honing in on the important.

Poetry concept: 10/28

Negation is when "the poet conjures a vacuum into which other possibilities can unexpectedly rush." (Zapruder, 5) The imagination fills in the emptiness; we, as poets, push everything away and focus on the real or imagined.Itis a way of emptying our minds like meditation, making us focus on a single word or concept. We at times begin our poems with negation or end them with negation. Zapruder provides examples of both in the chapter "Nothing Is The Force That Renovates The World" When doing this, we open our minds to the "what ifs." What if we decided to take the road on the left instead of the one on the right? What if we decided to not take any road at all? These questions may have been very well asked by Robert Frost when he wrote "The Road Not Taken." We open our minds to the"what-ifs" f our imagined decisions. As poets, we are gifted with intrinsic creativity often not found in the logical world. We are gifted with something many can not understand because it is beyond the physical reality. With this gift, we can fuel our creative juices and see different ways of negation.

"Dream Test Subject": New Poem: M, 10/28

Mommy is my best friend.

She plays with my brown

curls and prays with me. She reads stories

about little men feeling lonely

and tells me to never bully because

everyone is special. Her hands

are soft like air. Her breath cold like

water in winter. She loves to sing

Christmas songs and always mentions how

granny sang along. Her eyes are blue like

the Pacific Ocean. Mommy used that word

in a haiku once. It went like this:

Pacific ocean

undiscovered water

see how its life sings

Mommy is a scientist. She is an o-cean-o-gra-pher. 

I like to write haikus about her swimming in the ocean.

Mommy tells me to be careful though or

else I'll drown. When she is not teaching

about the ocean, she likes to watch me sleep.

She tells me you're a paralysis patient. 

She injects me with green liquid, and when I open my eyes

her eyes turn brown. Grandma stands in the corner

and hums a lullaby. Mommy says everything will be ok. It is just

a dream. I tell mommy to stay but she always

fades. Then comes the angry man. He strips my blanket

and tells me to play with his toy. Grandma hums louder

while the blankets rustle and the serum fizzles. He leaves like

he came. Grandma faces the wall and my eyes turn black. Mommy wakes

me from my bad dream and holds me. She says it'll be alright.

But, my fingers can touch the pain. Mommy begins our new lesson

and I watch the tick-tock go by. 6 o'clock rings and mommy injects me. 

Results must be accurate. I try to close

my eyes and dream it away. Grandma smiles while pain sings.

Response to Poem: 10/21/19

Zapruder included a poem of his own that is meant to explain the symbolism in poetry. The way he used eggs, something so simple, to explain something different was interesting. I made a connection with something relatable and something less relatable. His poem was simple yet deep. The egg, as he mentions, holds different meanings. You can not find one meaning for one object. There are so many ways you could explain what it symbolizes. Zapruder does exactly this with simple food. His poem is short and simple for a reason and it adds food for thought. It connects with his message, and it makes me see symbolism more clearly in poetry. It is a tool for something much more than hacking one meaning out of test-takers. No. It is meant to create a world of meaning. The egg, although seeming simple, is much more complex. Zapruder made it complex by tying in multiple meanings. We see how it symbolizes anxiety from asking simple questions. We see how it ties into writing poetry.