Thursday, 5 June 2014

Sharing My Poetry

The poem I've written is titled: "Midnight Thoughts".
To share my poem with other people, I tried two different methods.


For the first method, I made a poster and encouraged readers to put on stickers to signify that they've read my poem.


I decided to make my way to Kerrisdale to display "Midnight Thoughts".

Along the way, I met my first reader.














In Kerrisdale:

 
 

What I found was that almost all of the people who bothered to stop by and read were old women. Young people just walked past without a glance, and old men looked for a little bit and walked past.

Going back home. I didn't get the views that I wanted and resorted to asking others passengers in the bus to read and put stickers.



After Kerrisdale, I asked the manager at my apartment building for permission to display my poster on the resident's message board for 3 days.



Other places I tried:
1. Oakridge mall - the security told me that I was not allowed to display anything in the mall and forced me to take it down..
2. Vancouver Public Library - The manager was not available, and there were security issues with taking pictures.





For the second method, I created a simple, silent video using pictures that I drew and putting captions. Enjoy.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cITtanR1hPY&feature=youtu.be

Midnight Thoughts

In the wake of a solemn tranquility
My mind finds no stability.
Though I must rest in a hurry
It is during these nights that I start to worry.
“I forgot to give Suzy her money back.”
“I wonder if he’s still mad at me, that Jack.”
“What will happen next week?”
From trivial thoughts, bigger ones bespeak.

“Why do I always manage to blunder?”
“From all these misfortunes will I ever sunder?”
“Today I made the same mistake as yesterday, though I try.”
“Why does it always have to be this way?” I cry.
“Of the billions of souls that pass,
Am I nothing but an insignificant part of the mass?”
“What if I’ve done this?”
“I should have done this.”

An amalgam of thoughts is bombarding my head
Like missiles and bombs until I get up from my bed.
Then silence.
As I stare into that dark-blue night,
I somehow find comfort in the stars alight.
As I fall into a state of sleep,
I know that tomorrow night will repeat

The same midnight thoughts.

Sunday, 1 June 2014

Poetry

Lines, stanzas, verses, meter
Are all terms used in poetry.
Some may say that poetry
Is an alternative type of writing.
But poetry is much more than that.
Poetry is an art.
An art sometimes with rules,
And sometimes without rules.
It is a way to paint a picture
Using words.

Sunday, 6 April 2014

From the Shore to the Sea Beyond

Found poem source:
Golding, William. Lord of the Flies. London: Faber and Faber, 1954. 1-22. Print.

From the Shore to the Sea Beyond

The air was thick with butterflies, lifting, fluttering, settling.
Little breezes crept over polished waters beneath a haze of heat.
When these breezes reached a platform palm-fronds would whisper,
So that spots of blurred sunlight moved like bright, winged things in the shade.
The beach between the palm terrace and the water
Was a thin bow-stave, endless.

Some act of God had banked sand inside a lagoon
So that there was a long, deep pool in the beach
So deep at one end as to be dark green.
It was clear to the bottom and bright
With the efflorescence of tropical weed and coral.
A school of tiny, glittering fish flicked hither and thither

The ground was covered with coarse grass,
Torn everywhere by the upheavals of fallen trees,
Scattered with decaying coconuts and palm saplings.
Young palm trees fell and dried, forming a criss-cross pattern of trunks.
The palms that still stood made a green roof,
Covered on the underside with a quivering tangle of reflections from the lagoon

The shore was fledged with palm trees
That reclined against the light
And their green feathers were a hundred feet up in the air.
Out there, perhaps a mile away,
The white surf flinked on a coral reef,
And beyond that the open sea was dark blue.


Saturday, 23 November 2013

The Girl Who Loved Red (Warning: May be a bit disturbing)

Cindy loved red
She owned a red coat, a pair of red shoes, and a red bed
Her yellow rubber duck
Even her brother's hockey puck
Cindy painted them red
She was that much obsessed
One day Cindy was playing in a garden
When she noticed a flash of red, partially hidden
Curious, she ran towards the scarlet
Found a bramble of roses smelling sweeter than chocolate
Cindy held a flower between her little fingers to see
And admired the beauty closely
She unwittingly prickled her thumb
As the thumb started to go numb
Cindy saw an even more mesmerizing red
That oozed out slowly as she bled
Desiring more, she plunged her arm into the thorns
She watched her skin being torn
Yet felt joy at the sight of all the beautiful red
Nothing else went through Cindy's head
Cindy's mother came out of the door
Shocked to see all the gore
As she treated Cindy back home, the mother said
"What were you doing, Cindy? Your arm is almost shred!"
Cindy exclaimed, "Mommy, red came out of my arm!"
"That happens to everyone, Cindy, and it causes much harm."
"Really? Red can come out of anyone?"
That night a scream was heard and the cops showed up, armed with a gun
They busted the door open and proceeded to the bedroom ahead
To their surprise, there was a little girl smiling and drenched with red

Sunday, 22 September 2013

Self-Analysis: Physical or Sedentary?

What I hate most about going to school is having to leave the pleasant vicinity of my home and walk for 15 minutes. The same goes for hanging out with my friends. When I make plans to go out and watch a movie, I feel excited, but at the same time I feel terrified that I must first overcome the arduous journey to the theatre. If I had to choose between the life of a millionaire athlete and a mediocre artist, I would choose the millionaire athlete. However, if the choice was between a mediocre athlete and a mediocre artist, I would choose the latter. All this goes to show that I am a sedentary person.

I may be a sedentary person, but I also care about my physical well-being, so I do try to keep a balanced diet and try my absolute best to do brief stretching exercises every morning and evening. Also, being sedentary doesn't mean that I am overweight and have social anxiety. I am well above average in physical fitness, and I like to meet and socialize with new people. The most difficult part about taking part in an activity is getting started. I find it difficult to get my heart to start pumping. However, there are times when I think, I'm so glad I chose not to sit in front of the computer and rot away on my chair. Occasionally, I actually feel like getting active and call my friends to exercise together.

I am without a doubt a sedentary person. Nonetheless, I have a desire to become active and strive to become an active individual. In conclusion, I may be sedentary, but I am physical at heart.