Bruise|Poetry Breakdown

Hello again. I am going to break down one of my poems again. Brace yourself! This poem was called Bruise and I wrote it when I was also feeling a little down again.

Clothes on the floor-
Yellows, blues, greens and black.
A bruise to my heart and my mind.
A dent in the clutter.
To the obvious
a cause of objection of outside forces
when it is really
a slight disturbance
with process of healing.
Dark corners of dust gathered together
with no hope of light shining through.
A box of containment
where I can never be seen again
and fire continuously pummels me
with invisible scalding.
A large scribble like a nest
of tangled thoughts.
Black and increasing
like a nest of tangled thoughts.
Broken teeth nestled within.
No hope of extraction.
No hope of breaking free.
Yet, all in a process of healing.

 

Before I start breaking apart my poem, let’s define what a bruise is. According to Wikipedia, a bruise is “…a type of hematoma of tissue in which capillaries and sometimes venules are damaged by trauma, allowing blood to seep into the surrounding interstitial tissues. In English, this means that there is an injury that hurts and it is showing, but there isn’t any blood pouring out everywhere.

A start the poem with an obvious visual. Clothes are on the floor which depict obvious clutter in the room. I go on to categorize the color of the clothing into colors that do not seem like it could symbolize anything, but they are actually colors of a bruise. I extend the metaphor in comparing the physical clutter on the floor to the clutter in my mind i.e. too many thoughts. It has left an impact on me and it has definitely hurt me. I go on to say that people notice the injury-my inner strife because I am wearing my heart on my sleeve, but the next couple of lines describe what I’m trying to get across through my poem.

“…when it is really a slight disturbance with process of healing.” What I’m saying here is that after this injury has occurred, recovery is already happening. I already wrote this in my previous blog post, but I do agree that life can get at you sometimes and it does hurt plenty, but you cannot let that hinder you. You must let it heal, but don’t beat yourself up for it or it will never heal.

After that sentence, I throw in many analogies because I love analogies. I go from dark corners, to a box of solitude to a scribble on a paper which are all used in an attempt to describe my mental state. In the last couple of sentences, I basically state that there is no hope.

I like to think of my last sentence of the poem as that tiny voice in your head and all that voice ever speaks of is subtle reminders that things aren’t as bad as they seem. Injuries do happen for a reason and they do heal immediately after conception. It just will take time.

 

 

 

Distasteful Things|May 27,2014

Everyone has their long list of their favorite things from their favorite foods to their favorite stores to shop at. Those are things that make you happy, which is characterized as having pleasant qualities. People would generally gravitate towards things that make them feel happy because I’m sure that nobody wants to constantly be unhappy.

Yet, you will encounter things that make you unhappy from bitter words picked up on the street to seemingly small things that could shape your mood into the complete opposite of what you were.

For example, I really dislike the sound of glass breaking. It is such a sharp sound and it usually occurs with little to no warning. Plus, it makes a mess and something that once was, is now lost. Also, when the object shatters into hundreds of pieces, the pieces would be sure to cut you and cause even more pain upon you. You’re already sad that something of yours is gone and now you’re injured.

I always associate the sound of glass breaking with anger. When I’m angry, I would spew words like an abandoned open faucet-words that I would never say or think, but would form and slip out due to my impulsive angry nature. When I’m angry, I would be an emotional mess. One moment I would be screaming until all the oxygen has left my lungs and the next moment I would be silently fuming in the corner with my thoughts due to my impulsive angry nature. When I’m angry, I would want to somehow physically display my anger and I would reach purposely for something breakable and throw it upon the ground due to my angry impulsive nature.

The sound of the bowl or cup breaking would snap me out of my “anger trance” and I would instantly regret everything I did and said.

Any sound of glass breaking would cause me to freeze and a state of panic would wash over me. Today, the glass cover on my lamp broke because it was loose and the swinging of the fan and the added momentum caused the glass cover to come off and shatter onto the floor. The sound and the broken pieces caused me to go in a slight panic and I was even a little angry at myself. But the pieces of my lamp was swept up and thrown away and the replacement is on its way.

I guess the moral of the story is don’t let the distasteful things hinder you. They will happen, but you cannot let it break you. Better things will happen and that is when you can remember. Let the distasteful things teach you and remember the lesson.

 

Good day.

Psalms 86|May 24, 2014

I have always loved this passage. It really magnifies my exact feelings and then how to deal with it. It ends with a better note than the distress call it begins with. It ends with a reminder to oneself about who God really is. From time to time, we do need that reminder.

Hear me, Lord, and answer me,
    for I am poor and needy.
Guard my life, for I am faithful to you;
    save your servant who trusts in you.
You are my God; have mercy on me, Lord,
    for I call to you all day long.
Bring joy to your servant, Lord,
    for I put my trust in you.

You, Lord, are forgiving and good,
    abounding in love to all who call to you.
Hear my prayer, Lord;
    listen to my cry for mercy.
When I am in distress, I call to you,
    because you answer me.

Among the gods there is none like you, Lord;
    no deeds can compare with yours.
All the nations you have made
    will come and worship before you, Lord;
    they will bring glory to your name.
10 For you are great and do marvelous deeds;
    you alone are God.

11 Teach me your way, Lord,
    that I may rely on your faithfulness;
give me an undivided heart,
    that I may fear your name.
12 I will praise you, Lord my God, with all my heart;
    I will glorify your name forever.
13 For great is your love toward me;
    you have delivered me from the depths,
    from the realm of the dead.

14 Arrogant foes are attacking me, O God;
    ruthless people are trying to kill me—
    they have no regard for you.
15 But you, Lord, are a compassionate and gracious God,
    slow to anger, abounding in love and faithfulness.
16 Turn to me and have mercy on me;
    show your strength in behalf of your servant;
save me, because I serve you
    just as my mother did.
17 Give me a sign of your goodness,
    that my enemies may see it and be put to shame,
    for you, Lord, have helped me and comforted me.

Enclosure|Poetry Breakdown

I’m going to start a new thing in which I’m going to break down one of my poems at least once a week. By doing so, it’s going to help me understand my own writing as well as for other people to understand my poems. Like I said in my previous post, my writing contains many snippets of my life. So, with this “poetry breakdown” series, I guess you’ll pick up parts of my life.

The poem I want to break down is called Enclosure.

Storm clouds roll in
and a rumble increases through the hills.
Shadows grow long
and I am afraid.
Where does one find light
when darkness creeps in?
A loud crack
and I am entranced.
I have fallen under the spell
of flashing lights
and blank stares.
Where does one go
when one is ensnared?
Rain pours down into my open mouth
and I am drowning.
Tears stream down my face
and I grip the sodden ground.
I am drowning.
Where does one go
when there is nowhere else
to reside?

I wrote this poem when I was feeling rather blue because I was really confused about a lot of things. A friend once told me to write when I was upset and I’ve always done so and I can tell you that writing really works.

I started this poem with an analogy of a tempest to anguish because everything became dark and clouded together. Yet, I didn’t describe the thunder as a booming thunder; I utilized the word “rumbling” just how a thunderstorm is built up. When the roar hasn’t been fully built up yet and it was still a small rumble.  The anger hasn’t been full blown yet. It was just kept inside and it was a complete torment to house a storm that was starting to build up and was obviously going to be a large storm.

I continued with shadows as if I am a small child cowering in a small lit corner as the shadows start closing in on him. If you haven’t noticed already, I really like to use analogies. They just make things easier to understand. So, that child is stuck in a corner and is left with no where else to go. That child would be terrified of acceding shadows threatening to steal his feet. And I pose a question. “Where does one find light when darkness creeps in?” which translates to “How shall I find hope?”

The loud crack is supposed to be denoted of the thunder first mentioned in the first sentence. And the fourth sentence means that I haven’t accepted my fear, rather I have fallen under temptations. I am captivated by that feeling of loss. I don’t really know how to explain it. It’s an unhealthy addiction to the “blue feeling” because I suppose you don’t really do anything and you just sink deeper and deeper into your problems. It’s an inconvenient way of not confronting your problems. Like it’s staring at you in the face, but you just lie down. I pose a straight forward question of “Where does one go when one is ensnared?” I usually associate the word ensnare with animals, preferable small game. I have become helpless.

It has come to the point where I am too lazy to close my mouth from my screams of anguish that has finally poured out from inside of me. The storm still continues, but it is drowning me from the inside out and from external circumstances. “Tears stream down my face and I grip the sodden ground.” I realized that what I have been doing was wrong, but I seem to be trapped and now there is no escape. The harrowing three word sentence, “I am drowning.” I accepted my fate. I have given up.

And I ask one last question of loss

“Where does one go when there is nowhere else to reside?”

I lost myself and I need a home.

 

With that, concludes my poetry breakdown. I never expected my poetry to be this in depth now that I think about it. When I write poetry, I just…feel and write it down. Not exactly the best poetry writing advise, but I guess if you can transfer your feelings into words, then you understand that feeling and you wish to or you have already contained it.

 

Good day.

 

 

Writer|May 20, 2014

To be a writer is to live. Everybody is a writer, but to call yourself a writer is a different matter.

I am a writer. I write poems and short stories.

As a poet, I get to play with words. I can place them upside down and turn them inside out and still make them be beautiful. I don’t even have to make them be beautiful. I can make them as grotesque as I can make them and then turn them into simple beings. If you read my poems, you read parts of my life I decide to form into words. Sometimes the words do an excellent job in describing every bit and sometimes it is difficult to capture the true essence of life because life exceeds me.

A friend once said and I’m paraphrasing it because I don’t remember what she said exactly, but it went kind of like this

“Writing is a beautiful thing because you‘re making yourself open to everything.”

I guess what she meant that it for a writer to write is to share bits of their life to better other people’s lives. I keep saying “share bits of life” To get inspiration for the writing pieces writers write, we take inspiration from moments in our lives. We read a book and a single line really moved us to write a long paragraph. We fall in love and go through many pains and memorable moments which would move us to write a segment of a romance novel or a simple poem. We witness mother nature wrecking havoc upon our homes and it moves us to write about what happened before, during and after. That is a memoir- the storms.

I write short stories because I haven’t mastered continuity of plot. Midway through my writing piece, I’ll forget about my objective and drift off into another dimension. It’s quite troublesome. If I try to outline my story, then it will just become too stiff and I’ll over think the plot. Moments like outlining make me want to give up writing. I don’t think I can though. Outlines will never be the death of me. Slowly, but surely, I’ll master writing novels.

Writing has been a stable in my life probably because I’ve always loved to read. And with the active imagination, I realized that I could create my own story where I could have control over. I remember writing my first story in third grade and it definitely didn’t stop there. I started writing poetry in eighth grade because I found that regular writing could not capture my feelings. Plus, it was also that time in a pre-teen’s life when everything becomes a slight hyperbole. From reading my past poems and my present poems, I can tell that I did improve.

We always improve right? Yes.

I’m going to keep writing and you’re going to keep dreaming. 🙂

Good day.

Rain|May 15, 2014

I’ve never liked rain maybe because I wore glasses. Once a glasses wearer goes into the rain, visibility becomes non existent because glass doesn’t really repel water. Even if it’s just a gentle mist. I become blinded with droplets.

In the literature world, rain symbolizes change because it washes away all the dirt and in my case, pollen. You can write rain many different ways like with everything else.

She sprinted through the torrent of rain with her arm in front of her to shield the rain, but she still ended up soaking wet

I glanced out the window to find streams of water gently cascading down the window pane.

The first sentence sounded like that girl would much prefer being at home with a cup of hot chocolate than running outside in the rain. It also seems like she’s in a hurry because she’s sprinting. Whatever may of happened to her, she is not in the most pleasant mood. Meanwhile, the second sentence sounded like something out of a romance novel.

I suppose the moral of the story is

perspective

You never know what someone is going through just by how they look.

You never know how much someone is going through just by how they look.

You never will know someone as much as they know themselves and sometimes it may be just as confusing for them as well, but you don’t know that.

Be kind and help out, but don’t judge.

God is our only judge.

 

 

Man in The Moon|May 13, 2014

Man in The Moon|May 13, 2014

I have captured the lovely moon. I shot for the moon while I was still on earth. Photography has always been my passion in how you can capture a single moment in an instant, but it takes incredible focus and attention to detail. I wanted to take a picture of the moon, but I never had the right equipment and skills. Tonight, I did it and I am so happy. I’m so proud of myself because I achieved something I wanted to do.

You know,maybe the little prince is on the moon right now- his new home. Maybe the woman chasing the rabbit finally caught the rabbit. Maybe the moon is really made out of cheese.

Whatever it may be, it is possible. Don’t be afraid to reach for the stars.

 

Alice Chen