girlnamedxena: (Default)
Went to a poetry reading today because I have to for my poetry class. I was dreading it. I don't like poetry very much, and the only  (free) reading I could get to before my reading report was due was this 1st Nations thing. Nothing against Native Americans here, but I was fully expecting to go to this thing and listen to them whining about oppression for an hour.

But guess what! I actually really enjoyed it. Their stuff wasn't really culturally focussed, Native culture was sort of just a backdrop against which the authors (there were three) set their work.

Then during the Q&A Annoying Question Guy asked how the authors felt about being stuck in the Native corner rather than just being mixed in with all the other authors. One of the authors Kinnie Starr (I think that's how you spell her first name) said she thought it was stupid and she deserves just as much recognition as her non-native counterparts. I sort of agree with her. I agree with giving minorities their own section at festivals or whatever if their work pertains to said minority. But if you're part of a minority but your work is pretty general then I see no reason why you can't mix with everyone else.

Anyway, some more people asked questions, then Annoying Question Guy told Starr he thought she was being rude and that giving Natives their own section was good blahblahblah.

He was annoying.

I didn't expect to be able to identify or appreciate this reading, but a lot of what the authors said really resonated with me. The nice thing about this poetry class is the prof is always asking us how we feel about things, so I probably could ramble on about how the author's experience as a visible minority really resonated with my experience as an invisible minority ect. ect.

It gave me something to think about, which is more than I can say for a lot of things.
girlnamedxena: (Default)
So. I think I may have channeled yesterday. Interesting.

Also, a medieval love poem for y'all:

Une fame nominative
A fait de moy son datiff
par la parole genitive
en depid de laccusatiff
Srs amour est infiniti[v]e
ge veu son relatiff

(A nomitive lady
has made me her dative
by the genitive word
despite the accusative--
love is infinitive
for her relative)

-inscription on a 14th century ring.


Yes, I am having a nerdgasm as we speak, and I'm sure Carolyn and Laura are too (if they haven't seen this before).
girlnamedxena: (Default)
I'm in the mood for poetry. Share your favourite(s). I prefer structured poems with a rhythm and rhyme scheme, but I'd like to read just about anything right now.
girlnamedxena: (Default)
So, I was working on my Latin homework at work today, when I got distracted...


I'm pretty sure that makes absolutely no sense whatsoever, but it's poetry so it doesn't have to.

Lullaby

Apr. 11th, 2006 11:02 am
girlnamedxena: (Default)
Lay your sleeping head, my love,
Human on my faithless arm;
Time and fevers burn away
Individual beaty from
Thoughtful children, and the grave
Pproves the child ephemeral:
But in my arms till break of day
Let the living creature lie,
Mortal, guilty but to me
The entirely Beautiful.

- W. H. Auden

*grumble*

Mar. 22nd, 2006 01:18 pm
girlnamedxena: (oops)
So yesterday I had to wait for half a freaking hour to see my prof, and I was already frustrated by the library catalogue, so to calm myself down I wrote poetry. But not just any poetry- a sort of parody of Kubla Khan. I only got a few lines, but you, my lovely readers, get the pleasure *cough* of reading them.

In the philosophy longe did Caroline sit
and in ansty frustration brood
where profs, the knowledgable dwell
creating dialogues and spells
that are fated to be misunderstood.
And thrice five minutes of impatient wating
while she evedrops on prof's debating:
of whether or not a student' paper was full of brilliant thoughts

And that's all I got done. Yes, it took me like, twenty minutes. And no, it's not any good. For those of you who aren't familiar with Kubla Khan here's the first bit:

In Xanadu did Kubla Khan
a stately pleasure- dome decree
where Alph, the sacred river ran
through caverns measureless to man
down to a sunless sea.
So twice five miles of fertile ground
with walls and towers were girlded round:
and there were gardens bright with sinuous rills

Yup. That's it, doc. Anyway, I ought to be getting to class, so catch ya later, hep cats.
girlnamedxena: (Default)

Wow. I've had way to many one liners squeeing about icons lately. And one liners are lame *cough* Micheala *cough* so I'm going to treat *coughhackgasp* everyone to a lengthy entry. There will be laughter and tears, happyness and angst, dancing, singing, and curling up into the fetal position and rocking. How am I going to accomplish this, you ask? Well, since I don't actually have anything to say that isn't full of angst I'm going to try a sort of stream of consiousness thing. I'll just write down all of my thoughts as they come to me. Then you can see what it's like in my mind. My mom said most people think logically and somewhat linearly, so I guess anyone out there who thinks like that is in for a surprise.

So, today it was cold and then I had to go to the dentist and holy crap my ears were cold- write me a post card to let me know when you, dear feeling, are planning to come back. I wonder if mom would kick me out if I get my ears pierced? Probably not, but she would if I got that tattoo that I'm thinking of getting, which I won't unless Wizards give me the good news. God, I'm never going to get published. And I'm going to die alone, but without the cats because I'm allergic and I don't much like cats anyway and why doesn't anyone realize that my A/F fanficic is NOT platonic? It's suppose to be squicky and gross, but everyone's like awwww... so cute. Man, I want a rabbit again. I miss Tawny. Curse of the were-rabbit was awesome, though I wished the thearter was a famous players and it was cold that night too. I need to find a dance partner, but Chuck says he doesn't have time. I wonder what kind of buisness he runs? I wonder what kind of buisness Robert wants to run? There was this guy on the bus who looked kinda like Rob and I thought it was him and then it wasn't and I was all dissapointed. Why's it so hot on buses? that's just stupid, cuz everyone on buses is all bundled up for the cold except for those losers who're 'too tough to need jackets' like hell. Tell that to you're toungue next time it gets stuck to a lamp post, loser. Urg. Christmas story is such a bad movie. And I don't like Christmas. I'm being Jareth for Halloween next year, i'm really looking forward to that. I need to get a puffy white shirt. And a wig.

Wigs are fun. I'm going as Tonks to the new HP movie. I don't actually particulairly want to see the movie cuz the guy who plays lupin is soooooo ugly. Proff M makes a much better lupin, but only after his hair's messed up. It looks wierd when he tucks it behind his ears. I wonder if there's anywhere that I could get those nifty pointy glasses frames with the rinestones and stuff on it? I wish I could wear jewlery that was made out of crap metal. ow, my belly buton is sore. I thoughtt it would have healed by now.

And that's enough of that for now. But one more thing- a poem! I told you all you'd cry during this entry, and it'll probably be due to my Nealish poem. Apologies in advanced, but I actually rather like this one. It's better than my usual drivel, so that should give you some idea what my poetic creativity generally yields. Steal it and die.

We are passive, but not submissive.

Our thoughts are there

in what we don't say.

We avoid speaking

 what needs to be spoken;

afraid of doing

what needs to be done.

 

I speak in metaphores

full of riddles.

You show me the past,

not what you feel now.

We act as if

nothing is different-

but we both know it has all changed.

 

Mind games and mysteries,

nights spent without sleep.

I don't know,

you might know.

But we speak without sharing,

talk without answers,

Sneak like spies in eachother's minds.

 

How long can this maze

of questions unanswered

withstand the onslaught of secrets unleashed?

Fragments are scattered,

and don't fit together.

Meaning is there,

but remains incomplete.

 

*Bows* *trundles off to bed*

 

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