We’re supposed to be writing a prose poem for Writing 201. After reading several examples, this is my first attempt; however, I don’t even know if I’m on the right track. Comments, suggestions, and helpful criticism are greatly appreciated!
Update: Having left my original post up for several hours, I received several positive reviews and no real suggestions other than to remove the fingers – from the piece, not from me. I’m not that bad . . . at least, I don’t think I am . . . but you’d tell me, right?
Anyway, I’m going to go ahead and remove the password protection and share this with the world. Or, at the very least, the forty or so people who regularly visit.
Morning
With cold fingers I hold onto my coffee, wordlessly hoping for another school closing. Nope. Pull on the hat, coat and gloves. Head out the door to see the car frozen over. No ice remover, no scraper, just the vents put on overload. Listen to How Stuff Works; I wonder how long it will take. Twenty-one minutes – at least the motor turned over! Drive on to work.
Warm(er) fingers turn the key in the lock; kids are already waiting like a flock of . . . sheep? geese? Oh great. The clocks are all off. Again. I really need more coffee – strike that – I need the whole pot. Okay, who forgot to throw out the grounds? Come on, people! I’m not the only one around here! How much longer? Ten minutes? I guess that’ll work.
As part of Writing 201: Poetry, we were asked to post our favorite poem.
Being as mine is The Divine Comedy, that would be a bit ambitious, though you can indeed find the full text online.
Now, you could be asking
Why on earth would a guy in his late twenties pick a Late Medieval / Early Renaissance Italian epic known for reflecting medieval Catholic theology as his favorite poem?
Well, I’m glad you asked!
I’ve always liked poetry. I loved learning poems in English class; I was the guy who asked to recite the great Shakespearean soliloquies (and made everyone else hate him for it). Before Dante, my favorite poem was Percy Bysshe Shelley’s Ozymandias:
I met a traveller from an antique land
Who said: Two vast and trunkless legs of stone
Stand in the desert. Near them on the sand,
Half sunk, a shatter'd visage lies, whose frown
And wrinkled lip and sneer of cold command
Tell that its sculptor well those passions read
Which yet survive, stamp'd on these lifeless things,
The hand that mock'd them and the heart that fed.
And on the pedestal these words appear:
"My name is Ozymandias, king of kings:
Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair!"
Nothing beside remains: round the decay
Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare,
The lone and level sands stretch far away.
In college I took a course in Classical and Medieval Lit; what can I say – I wanted to make the most of my liberal arts education. By that time an interest in philosophy and theology and history had taken root. In Dante I found a poet that combined everything I found intriguing. I liked poetry well enough, but Dante made be love it.
Although not everyone can build a mind palace, everyone can – no, everyone should have some form of art or music in their lives.
Let’s face it: between work and most television there’s simply too muchnoisein the world.
I’ve already told you that I judge people by their books. The second thing I generally notice is their taste in art and music – or their lack thereof.
Most people listen to some form of music, even if it is Pop Top 40. I suppose there’s nothing necessarily bad about that, but neither is it best. At some point, everything starts sounding the same. If you’re addicted to “modern” music, try listening to Vitamin String Quartet, Piano Guys, or some other similar group that plays contemporary music in a classical style (and minus those annoying and mostly unintelligible lyrics!).
However, people exist who don’t listen to anything. They watch sitcoms, dramas, sports, and pundits and never take the time to just listen to something. I would; music “soothes the savage beast,” after all.
Take a trip through Eastern Europe via The Moldau:
Save the damsel in distress with The Magic Flute:
Let Rhapsody in Blue transport you back to the Jazz Age:
Then, turn on something like Pandora or Spotify and lose yourself in the magic of music mixed with modern technology.
Art, though, is a bit more subjective. I understand not everyone likes Renaissance Masters. Some people like Pablo Picasso, Marcel Duchamp, and Chuck Close. I do not.
My heart breaks, though, for those that have no art – not even the dollar-store white-elephant-gift variety. In this, there’s something to be said for coffee-table books. I know: most people just leave them on a table or shelf just to look good. But please – for the love of all that is good – pick one up. I don’t care if its about art or muscle cars or coffee tables themselves. Pick up a book.
A public declaration, usually of a prince, sovereign, or other person claiming large powers, showing his intentions, or proclaiming his opinions and motives in reference to some act done contemplated by him; as , a manifesto declaring the purpose of a prince to being war, and explaining his motives.
Easy, right? Eh . . . not so much.
They say to start with something you hold to be absolutely true.
An empty bookshelf indicates an empty mind.
I never judge a book by its cover.
I always judge people by their books.
More specifically, their lack of books.
I believe everyone likes to read; to claim otherwise is to lie to yourself.
The remedy is simple: go to your local library and get a library card.
You can borrow all kinds of books for free*, so be bold and adventurous:
Read Everything!
Avoid my judgment.
* You may have to pay an initial fee (mine cost $3.00) and will have to pay any penalties for late returns.
