Shameful D:
Well, I'll start this post in particular explaining my title. See it was (the actual thing not my interprepation) on one of the cute bags that I saw in London, and ever since I've had the phrase rattling about in my empty skull.
Anyways, my main theme for this post is going to be what I intended to add a week or so ago from Writer's Group (something I look forward ---> to). The general idea of writer's group is to get your creative juices flowing and to improve your take on writing. (Christ I think I just blew up the microwave D:)
So in part of this lesson we split a piece of paper in half and wrote down one side until it ran out of space (write whatever you like), then we covered it up and passed it on and the next person wrote down the other side. Then it was uncovered and you had to read across the paper and pick out parts that were good. The two topics that I ended up with were 'Stephen Fry' and 'Door', both sides were complete nonsense, but reading across I got some good stuff, namely:
"Hole line hair is open me please and in which you can't then shut me because get your glasses it is cold and I'm from when you fall rather hot."
and
"In to her arms of I like to be open passion and joy sometimes because on the day that I am a door that your love is instated likes to be closed."
See, they don't make a lot of sense, but somehow flow togethor quite nicely :D.
Also, in a description of certain small objects that were spread across the table, I wrote;
"Globuals of gold, in the formation of a wonky cross.
Sharp on one side, smooth on the other. Reminds me of the ocean, rough and wavey on the top, can kill, hurt and damage. Sometiumes with can bring joy (surfers, sailors and hardcore swimmers) mostly pain and distress.
The smooth side is below the surface, calm and drifting, coll nothingness, endless and darkening.
They are also pins."
Today's session, we messed around with both prose and poetry, transforming one into the other and so-on-and-so-forth. We started off trying to turn a riddiculous poem by Anne Sexton to Sylvia Plath into prose. SO DIFFICULT! But here's what I came up with:
"Look Sylvia!" I cried, "a dead box of stones and spoons."
We are two children, playing excitedly, like two meteors that wonder free and loose in the tiny playroom.
Her eyes were lit up, her mouth was pressed into a sheet of paper. "Into the roofbeam," she called back and we charged, "into the dumb prayer!"
I wondered, where did she go after she wrote to me from Devonshire? I remember that she was talking of rasing potatoes and keeping bees.
(unfinished)
THEN we had to turn an article on Capgras Syndrome (WTF?!?) into a poem, ergo:
"The Syndrome of Capgras
Discovered by Capgras.
When doubles appear,
imposters!
Not dear...
Misidentification,
Nonrecognition,
Phantom doubles!
I exsist in the world of fakes,
impersonators with their faces shaded and their eyes averted.
It's so alarming, I'm turning psychotic,
it's driving me crazy."
~~~~~
Alan wrote (and this is great!! :D)
"Capgras! Woo!
I am my own mirror,
Seeing further and further, deep into myself,
I am everywhere, but not all the time.
I am surrounded by copies of me,
And copies of you.
Like Barbie forced into Shelly's dress,
my heart sees more than my eyes.
And my soul screams that something is wrong!
But what can be done?
Who in this world can help?
Who am !?
Who are you?"
THEN we did an exercise where we wrote a short story/poem, passed it on, the next person had to then turn that into poetry/a short story. Finally it was passed on again and the top piece was folded over, that person had to turn that poetry/story into a story/poem without reading the origional. Right?
So, here are the examples that I snatched up (they're so cute!)
"The world fades before him
hes (dunno?!?!) broken face
lust forever gone
amongst the sea of bodies
he shall never feel
love again.
#change#
It lies smashed around my feet; my face in shattered pieces. Agony is reflected on all sides and I scream. A harsh, echoing cry that reverbrates with brocclied pain (XD). The candle to my side flickers, and for a moment or so, the light of the world fades.
She is gone, and with her she took her passion. Her LUST is forever gone. Lost amoung future lovers and flings.
My love, like this mirror -her favourite- is broken and dead.
#change#
Pieces lying,
Shards flying,
Gone forever,
Future is never.
Love on the line,
Life not mine."
~~
"Balloon floats aimlessly through the forest. A message tied to his neck, destined to reach the occupant of whatever the reindeer may stumble upon.
Left, right -whoops! He fell, back up, left again and, ah! A house! Gingerbread? Nope. Candy cane perhaps? Not that either. Just one more lick should figure it out...but oh! What's this? A headshot? So unnecessary for our innocent postman. Now we may never know of the ramblings untold.
##
The reindeer floats.
Balloon has a message.
He stumbles, he tumbles and falls upon a house!
Balloon licks
and tastes
Gingerbread?
Candy cane?
Alas, we'll never know
for balloon, dear friends, is dead
##
A balloon drifts from its company as the day wanes on and the party starts to die. Little Louise cries out as it leaves her grasp and a tear trickles down her cheek. A good friend has been lost forever."
~
"The red ball falls and I, James Dean in the making, chase it. I woop fiercly and charge, it tumbles gaining momentum, falling unstoppably down the stairs. It is a juugernaught of red leather and pressure, it bounces further and I run faster. There is suddenly a sense of urgency.
I know.
I know that when the ball bounces on, it will inevitably land in Grandmama's pond. I panic and fatefully trip. I fall to the ground. The ball is lost.
##
The red ball tumbles
and jolts in front of me
through green, green
green grass.
I feel blind panic
as it leaves my foot
and forever lost, gone and forgotten,
In the black pool.
##
The only ball we have lies in there in front of me, tempting and teasing. I give, unleasing fury then panic as it soars over the wall into the tar pit. It sinks into the depths, gone forever."
~
"Tears fall from the Ice Princess
The warmth of her heart to melt
She has noebody to show her love
and unleash her from her shell.
Nobody there but not hot like hell
she yearns for heat, to feel someway she can
the feeling only gainable from the body of a man.
##
She sits on her throne of ice. Her cold heart never to be warmed by the dim sunlight that filters through the windows. The ice princess is a sad individual who's kingdom diminished has no life to give.
##
Ice is beneath her.
She reigns supreme,
Princess of Ice,
Never a queen.
Her heart is so frozen,
The sunlight is weak,
She's loveless, a burden,
Feels cold misery, so bleak."
~
"Troy was a lonely child. He loved his family dearly, but they only abused him. Once his father took a knife to him, slicing his mouth, carving a smile into the poor boy's face.
Troy went missing a few years back. His whereabouts is completely unknown. We can't be sure if he's alive or...not...
##
Forced into a permanent smile,
Do I deserve this madness?
Compelled to run for miles,
Never knowing, never showing.
##
The Mad Hatter runs. He's doing it for charity and all the while he curses.
"Do I deserve this madness? Compelled to run for miles..." He wheezes and splutters.
As the Mad Hatter runs, people take pictures. Charity has always been a pollen sack to the media bees. He considors this with anger as the buzz excitedly and flash their flash bulbs.
As it is, he has to smile, grin widely and wave to the masses. Those adoring, blundering masses. "Take pictures whilst you can," he mutters, grinning wider, "it won't be long before the Jamangrozes get you!"
With this in mind he stumbles on."
~
All done! As you can see, the yellow ones are my additions. You can certainly tell that somepeople lost the plot, including the finalisers for the Balloon and Red Ball stories. Shame, they were my favourites T__T. Anyway. I'll carry on into another post....
No comments:
Post a Comment