A lot of people got me really excited about the prospects of being in my small liberal arts college town during the six week mini-mester. However, this term has ended up being the dreariest, coldest, least sun-filled spring term in anyone's memory.
I think I may have something to do with it... Carrying 10 credits for six weeks (when normal folk are hitting anywhere between 0 and 4), I think I've brought the tears of the Lord down to this campus because I procrastinated my twelve week terms covering my tracks with the excuse of "taking advantage of my liberal arts options" when my major motivation happened to be NOT taking a lab science.
But I will say this, spring term has had a few interesting experiences for me:
-the resurrection of Truth or Dare as a hilarious pastime
-the resurgence in love of film and poetry
-the re-dedication to Biblical catching up/study
-the return to randomized late night fun
All that, and some Ouija board sessions, have made this term...interesting...to say the least (and kept me remiss in my duties as a good blogger...).
I'll be back, I promise.
27 May 2009
On Poetry III...
Shoutout to Gwendolyn Brooks (whose style I'm imitating in this poem...)
New Progress
And still we march in all black, progressing
Against the music of generations
Fed on the prejudice of mothers who
Keep pain warm like breast milk for dark infants.
Still we don the colors red black and green.
Still we salute the flag red, white, and blue,
Revere the stripes, look longingly, pray
For safety as those who also prayed, sang.
But inward boils a new power, an awe.
No fear, a growing fulfillment burns hot.
For even if we end up losing out
How shall they deny, back stepping; and how
Close the doors? Push, push. The sound
Of echoed chains remain. And again free.
Copyright A. Davis
New Progress
And still we march in all black, progressing
Against the music of generations
Fed on the prejudice of mothers who
Keep pain warm like breast milk for dark infants.
Still we don the colors red black and green.
Still we salute the flag red, white, and blue,
Revere the stripes, look longingly, pray
For safety as those who also prayed, sang.
But inward boils a new power, an awe.
No fear, a growing fulfillment burns hot.
For even if we end up losing out
How shall they deny, back stepping; and how
Close the doors? Push, push. The sound
Of echoed chains remain. And again free.
Copyright A. Davis
05 May 2009
On Poetry II...
attraction is something both sweet and true
looking and touching, the voice harbors sin
je sais que je ne veux pas être la foule
comme la belle voix, je ne regrette rien
shadows close tight around our grasped hands
because doubt shatters now what love could do
et, maintenant, tu me donne ta main
je pense que tu me dit bienvenue
holding fast to thoughts that now seem so vain
slipping through your smooth fingers, nevermind
mais, entre l’amour et vous, vit la haine
and end we sought, you could never find
jamais ou toujours, vous pensez de moi
mais, j’oublie la voix, la promesse que toi
copyright A. Davis
looking and touching, the voice harbors sin
je sais que je ne veux pas être la foule
comme la belle voix, je ne regrette rien
shadows close tight around our grasped hands
because doubt shatters now what love could do
et, maintenant, tu me donne ta main
je pense que tu me dit bienvenue
holding fast to thoughts that now seem so vain
slipping through your smooth fingers, nevermind
mais, entre l’amour et vous, vit la haine
and end we sought, you could never find
jamais ou toujours, vous pensez de moi
mais, j’oublie la voix, la promesse que toi
copyright A. Davis
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)