Hello fine feathered fowl and fishy friends!
I have transposed my online presence to DREAMSPINDLE. Find poetry, essays, short stories, and other such stuff there.
My personal blog can be found at BREATHS & IMPRESSIONS. (I know, what a pretentious title, right? It's vainglorious.) Find--hopefully--insightful reflections upon my day-to-day life there. I know it sounds boring but I'll post some recpies and pictures of food! That's worth it, right?
Thank you for stumbling upon this little niche. I hope you've enjoyed your stay and I hope to see you in my other homes.
Good day!
-M
Showing posts with label Poetry. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Poetry. Show all posts
Monday, June 18, 2012
Wednesday, May 30, 2012
City Streets at Night
Labels:
College,
Poetry
0
comments
Laid slick with the
stink of liquor-licked stomachs,
sallow streets
lie steeped in stony sepia,
Belly-up to
blazing bursts: fluorescent
cigarettes prick
yellow the sickly night sky.
Lank against my last
dregs of architecture, I
shuck bright
eyes till aged whites fill my husk.
As the carnal
colonies crawl my slim stems, I
steep my buds in
fairy dust, lace my leaves with snow.
Dark stark
pupils, gutted and stuffed, seek skyward
stars where lewd
gas lanterns sputter and burn.
--Maggie Cheung
For CCR199Y1: Reading and Writing Poetry, first year seminar course at the University of Toronto.
Thursday, November 24, 2011
Factory
Labels:
College,
Poetry,
Sleep
0
comments
It has been what seems like eaons since my last post... I've been distracted by school, various ambition-driven activities, getting into school, and now keeping up with school.
Oh yes, first year Life Sciences at U of T St. George will leave your GPA crippled and possibly crush your dreams. But the intensity does make things more interesting.
More importantly: since I've had to give up drama, art, and English in pursuit of higher education, I took a first year poetry course. Essentially, every person in this course should have a portfolio with 8 rough poems, 3 critiques of others' poems, 3 critiques of their own poems, 8 revised poems, and a 1000-word response on a poem by the end of the year. It's fascinating because you're put in a room with 22 peers who were just as tickled pink by the Poetry Unit in high school as you were. They are an endangered species.
I completed draft one of Poem #4 a week late two nights ago. (Of course, when I say "night" I mean early morning--you don't get much sleep after leaving the warm nest of high school.) It was inspired by a moment on a subway platform. Between this course and Latin, my writing has definitely changed; perhaps once I post the first three poems, one would be able to compare and discern a more obvious difference. Anywho, here it is:
Poem 4: Factory
The red eye of the sky flows down our backs
I hope the almighty Tulmber (Hulme+Tumber) would approve of that one.
I promised myself sleep 19 minutes ago... it's too easy to break promises to yourself. Ah, well.
My next post will contain more personality. Scientific writing and a complete lack of all the boisterous good fun Gifties exude has contaminated me. I should stop using big words.
GOODNIGHT.
Oh yes, first year Life Sciences at U of T St. George will leave your GPA crippled and possibly crush your dreams. But the intensity does make things more interesting.
More importantly: since I've had to give up drama, art, and English in pursuit of higher education, I took a first year poetry course. Essentially, every person in this course should have a portfolio with 8 rough poems, 3 critiques of others' poems, 3 critiques of their own poems, 8 revised poems, and a 1000-word response on a poem by the end of the year. It's fascinating because you're put in a room with 22 peers who were just as tickled pink by the Poetry Unit in high school as you were. They are an endangered species.
I completed draft one of Poem #4 a week late two nights ago. (Of course, when I say "night" I mean early morning--you don't get much sleep after leaving the warm nest of high school.) It was inspired by a moment on a subway platform. Between this course and Latin, my writing has definitely changed; perhaps once I post the first three poems, one would be able to compare and discern a more obvious difference. Anywho, here it is:
Poem 4: Factory
The red eye of the sky flows down our backs
and pools on the sides of silver vessels.
We drip gray-green dread onto the dead day.
We let wasted breath collect our thoughts.
We collect dust.
Out of the darkness
a voiceless cry climbs the silence.
It worms its way
between
screeching steel & the hiss of hydraulics.
It plucks at our hairs
even as it falters in its flight.
What mournful notes.
But we do not falter. We sway. We stand.
The young are entranced.
They find themselves caught in that web
of feelings they do not know
(except what they catch in their elders’ eyes).
Thus they cling,
tenacious,
to the ground before the sound.
Beneath it all
are countless black cords,
one for each steadfast sentinel.
Once:
Each had snaked to a spring-green skull,
punctured:
fed live.
Swimming with unseen things,
their misty orbs had flickered.
--
Our vapour eyes open.
Speak:
“Mama.”
-------------------------------------------------------------
I hope the almighty Tulmber (Hulme+Tumber) would approve of that one.
I promised myself sleep 19 minutes ago... it's too easy to break promises to yourself. Ah, well.
My next post will contain more personality. Scientific writing and a complete lack of all the boisterous good fun Gifties exude has contaminated me. I should stop using big words.
GOODNIGHT.
Wednesday, January 5, 2011
Good morning, Canada!
Labels:
Drama Club,
Food,
Homework,
Poetry,
Tune Out
0
comments
Today is a day of Firsts.
First post of this year. First post since God knows when. First post since finishing studying Grade 12 Biology: Chapter Three--Photosynthesis. First post since--hold your breath, ladles and gentlespoons--FINISHING. THE FIRST DRAFT. OF. THE. SEARS PLAY.
Exciting news successfully condensed and announced.
Now for an Imagist poem!
The Dinner Table
Flat but uneven;
Unsmooth and splintered;
It holds our conversation
Stable enough.
Lastly, First Post announcing a Series of [Possibly Collaborative] Posts Concerning (Songs to) Tune Out & _________ (to).
Parantheses obliterated, it's just gonna be posts containing YouTube playlists with different themes each time but every playlist will be something to escape to.
I've a few ideas on what to play when I tune out and...
First post of this year. First post since God knows when. First post since finishing studying Grade 12 Biology: Chapter Three--Photosynthesis. First post since--hold your breath, ladles and gentlespoons--FINISHING. THE FIRST DRAFT. OF. THE. SEARS PLAY.
Exciting news successfully condensed and announced.
Now for an Imagist poem!
The Dinner Table
Flat but uneven;
Unsmooth and splintered;
It holds our conversation
Stable enough.
Lastly, First Post announcing a Series of [Possibly Collaborative] Posts Concerning (Songs to) Tune Out & _________ (to).
Parantheses obliterated, it's just gonna be posts containing YouTube playlists with different themes each time but every playlist will be something to escape to.
I've a few ideas on what to play when I tune out and...
- Study
- Stop being hormonal
- Dance my pants off (DANTSOFFPANTSOFF ANYONE?)
- Eat (<3)
- Read
- Cry (a good cry does you good)
- Laugh (funky, funny, freckletastic)
- Revisit old memories
Now, to sleep before the dreaded Bio test tomorrow.
Oh, one last annonce:
MURDER MYSTERY DINNER PARTY
featuring a collaboration between the DRAMA DEPT. and FOOD DEPT.
Yes. They just decided to combine the two loves of my life.
More information to come in the Spring! :)
Live, laugh, fall on your face, appreciate life and all that.
-Maggie
Monday, August 9, 2010
Persevere
Labels:
Poetry
0
comments
The waves kissed the shore,
caressing, receding,
caressing, receding,
caressing, receding.
Hesitantly, they loved the sands,
pushing forward, pulling back,
pushing forward, pulling back,
pushing forward, pulling back.
They could never be sure or strong like the
grounded,
towering
earth,
so they ventured forward,
eagerly,
admiringly,
enviously.
I will be Accomplished,
I will be Accomplished,
I will be Accomplished.
The earth did not move.
What will you accomplish?
They wavered.
I don't know.
I don't know.
I don't know.
They retreated,
meekly,
humbled by the
rough sands and
smooth stones and
brittle leaves.
The short sat, as
imperial and constant
as ever,
but the waves shifted restlessly,
casting themselves
against the shore's sides.
As it stretched
above
the
clouds,
the earth did not see
how the tossing waves
carved its sides
into
dust.
caressing, receding,
caressing, receding,
caressing, receding.
Hesitantly, they loved the sands,
pushing forward, pulling back,
pushing forward, pulling back,
pushing forward, pulling back.
They could never be sure or strong like the
grounded,
towering
earth,
so they ventured forward,
eagerly,
admiringly,
enviously.
I will be Accomplished,
I will be Accomplished,
I will be Accomplished.
The earth did not move.
What will you accomplish?
They wavered.
I don't know.
I don't know.
I don't know.
They retreated,
meekly,
humbled by the
rough sands and
smooth stones and
brittle leaves.
The short sat, as
imperial and constant
as ever,
but the waves shifted restlessly,
casting themselves
against the shore's sides.
As it stretched
above
the
clouds,
the earth did not see
how the tossing waves
carved its sides
into
dust.
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