So my friend Sarah talked me into it...I am starting a blog for my writing. Ok, It's actually going to be a reading/writing blog because I think they go hand in hand. So today I think I will post a poem or two. I have been taking a Creative Writing class and have learned quite a lot about myself as a writer. For one, I am much better at writing stories than poems, and I think I tend to think in novel-form. I have also recently discovered my genre. This is big for me because I have spent my whole life wanting to be a writer and not being able to figure out WHAT I want to write. I think I am a YA Fantasy fiction writer. I love fantasy, and I love the idea of a teenager reading a book instead of watching tv and discovering that they LOVE reading. I spent a HUGE part of my childhood with my nose stuck in a book, and it is my favorite place to be.
So before I post my poem I want to talk a little about a book I just finished. It was amazing. It was unique. It was disturbing. I couldn't put it down. It was The Hunger Games by Suzanne Collins. If it were up to me I would make you stop reading this right now and go out and buy it.
This book is set in the future in America about 100 years after some uprising. The book goes into more detail about it, but I don't want to give too much away. Basically, as a punishment, the "Capitol" makes these districts pick one boy and one girl between the ages of 12-18 to be sent to huge arena and fight each other to their death. Their are 24 contestants and the last one standing is promised a life of riches. Think Shirley Jackson's "The Lottery" meets Lord of The Flies. (if you have not read either of those, shame on you ). it is very disturbing to think of children brutally murder each other, but what keeps you reading is that you desperately want to see a revenge and rebellion against the Capitol. Also, the main character, Katniss, is amazing. Finally a female character who is smart and strong and a survivor. I don't want to give anything away because this book is full of twists and keeps you on the edge of your seat, so just run to the library and read it....trust me.
Okay, so the first poem is an Object Poem. So far I have gotten the best grade on this one out of all my poetry submitted for my class.
Silver Lining
A box
Sits centered on my dresser top
A gift
Given to me by a dear friend
A square
Four inches lined with metal beads
A secret
Covered in rough silver fabric
A reflection
Shattered by tiny glass mirrors
A mystery
Enclosed within the wooden walls
A darkness
Softened by rich, soft, black velvet
Empty
Waiting patiently to be filled
--Quinn Hay
And here is another poem just because. It is a Borrowed Line poem and needs a little work.
She Walks
I.
She walks in beauty, like the night*
With shallow breath and teary eyes
True love never knew her pure fright
As her demons taunt her with their lies
And her darkness slowly takes over the light
She walks in fear as part of her dies
II.
She cowers in weakness, alone in the shade
With calming breath, she sets her fear aside
As all of her demons lurk in shadows and fade
And she grasps at the truth that her heart had denied
She walks in truth, feeling lost and betrayed
III.
She dances in strength, a dawning new day
With steady breath and salvation in sight
The love for herself a love that won’t sway
As the darkness gives way to the light
And her past shadow of self begins to decay
She walks in beauty, like sunlight
-Quinn Hay
and if you are interested , this is the original poem I borrowed it from, which is currently my favorite poem of all time.
| George Gordon Byron, Lord Byron. 1788–1824 |
| 600. She walks in Beauty |
| SHE walks in beauty, like the night | |
| Of cloudless climes and starry skies; | |
| And all that 's best of dark and bright | |
| Meet in her aspect and her eyes: | |
| Thus mellow'd to that tender light | 5 |
| Which heaven to gaudy day denies. | |
| One shade the more, one ray the less, | |
| Had half impair'd the nameless grace | |
| Which waves in every raven tress, | |
| Or softly lightens o'er her face; | 10 |
| Where thoughts serenely sweet express | |
| How pure, how dear their dwelling-place. | |
| And on that cheek, and o'er that brow, | |
| So soft, so calm, yet eloquent, | |
| The smiles that win, the tints that glow, | 15 |
| But tell of days in goodness spent, | |
| A mind at peace with all below, | |
| A heart whose love is innocent! |
