Archive for poetry

MI ::One Long Day::

Posted in Michigan with tags , , , , on Friday, January 25, 2008 by dragonsvamp

Friday the 18th turned out to be such a long, long day for me. Even though we only had half day at school, all faculty have to stay until the normal finishing time, which is half past two.

The sixth graders at the school were putting on a play about the life of Moses and one of the girls had begged me the whole week before to stick around and watch it. I decided I would and since there was only an hour and a half left before it would start, I figured I’d just hang around the school and help out with preparations as well as work on editing the progress reports of my students. There was no point going home for a little over an hour and then come back. Just a waste of gas if you ask me and so I stuck around.

Add to that the fact that I was fasting to honor the day of when God split the sea for Moses and gave the Israelites their escape. This event just happened to fall on this same day. And so I haven’t eaten and I haven’t had anything to drink since the night before. I don’t really get hungry on the days I fast but I do get tired. Ever so exhausted and drained and that’s how I felt during the early afternoon hours.

I was so worn out and yet the option of going home and just chilling out for the rest of the evening was definitely no option. I didn’t even consider it as such.

A day packed to me is a day that is never wasted because no matter how much of the things you might be doing might be time wasting or pointless, you’ll always at least come across one thing that you did that made the day worth it. And, therefore, to me a day that is full to the brim with activities and events is one that you’ll go home feeling refreshed; especially that is if those things you were up and about doing during the day were things you were passionate about.

To me Friday was this day.

I didn’t get to see all of the play. I was helping out in keeping everything going smoothly. It ended before the hour was up and then there was dinner. I hung around and met up with some of the girls that I was slightly acquainted with. I bumped into one of said girls (who was to preform at the studio and was also my classmate in creative writing) and asked her for directions to the Red Ink Studio. Not that those directions, once said, would be accurately remembered, but at least I would know in what general area it was at and then I could go to Mapquest and find the exact directions to write down and take with me.

I decided to fill up my tires first before going to Red Ink. This made me late, but better late than never right?

I walk in about fifteen minutes late. The room was dark, the walls grey. It smelled faintly like in-scents. It smelled like my house when I light my candles and in-scents. The lights were dimmed and a lady was on stage talking about the war and the quest for oil and how it’s affecting our world.

Most of the chairs were taken and so I stood against the wall for about an hour yet I was inthralled at my surrounding that it didn’t bother me at all. A few more people came up and from their lips came out poetry that was music to my ears.

Yet I started getting worried that I had missed out on the girl classmate and my professor’s performance. I could see that Mona was sitting towards the front of the room but she was the only one I noticed from my creative writing class.

Finally, a familiar face came onto the stage. It was was a guy from class. Though he was the second familiar face I saw in the room I did not feel out of place. This was I felt I belonged. Just being able to sit and be entertained by people who were yet to become so well known that their humanity began to fade.

No, these were real human beings. Real people that lived normal lives. Yet their difference was that they were passionate about their work; about their art.

They have yet to hit the point where they become icons and idols only to be worshipped by the young and the ignorant. They have yet to become slaves to the millions that they might receive if they attain fame-hood.

They were normal people just like you and me. And boy were many of them seriously talented.

He read two very short poems. I really liked the one titled ‘Broke’ but the first he read too quickly and so it’s message faded from my memory. Yet, though the second one was just as short as the first, he read it in a way where till now the message behind his words linger in the back of my head.

After that my professor read an essay/story she had written. One I absolutely loved. By this time I had found a stool to sit on and was leaning to the side to rest on the wall. I was in my element.

The story was beautiful and yet sad. And by the time my professor had finished reading her story I was positive that my other classmate had already preformed at the beginning before I arrived. I was disappointed, not because I hadn’t heard her before. I did on two occasions but I hadn’t known her on those two events. And though I didn’t know her back then (a few months ago) her words, her poetry kept replaying in my mind. I liked some, I didn’t like some. But no matter my taste in her poetry I have no right to say anything bad about her work. I only prefer some over the others.

However, it turned out that I was wrong. The girl hadn’t preformed yet. She was up next. The two poems she spoke were ones I had heard before. This disappointed me I think because I was hoping to hear something new. Yet she spoke them in such a beautiful way that the one that I didn’t care too much for sounded beautiful to my ears.

I did not leave the Red Ink until around 11 that night. And I left in high spirits. It was a breath of fresh artistic air to me. To be surrounded by people who loved what I loved. I enjoyed every single second of my time there and will never (hopefully since my memory sucks) forget how amazing it was.

I got to buy the ticket for the next spoken word event that will be taking place on this coming Saturday at the university. I can’t wait to go. I hope it’ll be as awe-inspiring an evening as was my evening at the Red Ink.


UM ::Poet of Nature?::

Posted in University in America with tags , , , , , on Saturday, January 12, 2008 by dragonsvamp

What exactly is a ‘poet of nature’?