Monday, December 12, 2016

December 12

Today, we're moving slowly forward with poems and fiction focusing in on our goal.


6 comments:

  1. very interesting assignment. I just wrote a rough draft of short story. thanks!

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  2. I want to write a poem about this (idea I have) later in the week (and I’ll post it) but I will also begin a short story. Here is the first paragraph unedited but full of promise 

    "Downstairs, the idling reel-room hummed with the sound of the promise of printing. The dark blue Headliner press alternately sucked in air then exhaled like a wounded steel mammoth. In the dimness, the three-story wonder of the post modern age, spread over the distance of a city block, still looked impressive, still cutting-edge in the way locomotives must have seemed when diesel engines took over the tracks. At 4:00 AM the pressmen had all gone home. The smell of ink and paper saturated the air with the aroma of shift-work that was once important, even life changing to many. More than just a job, in the past, getting the news on to the front porch of the nation felt immediate, essential and indispensable, the kind of work that would last a lifetime.

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    Replies
    1. That's a great buildup. Now we need the conflict with an antagonist!

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  3. A 1996 adventure about an environmentalist traveling to PI
    His conflict is the political climate of the Philippines under the control of a dictatorship as he experiences the people in dire poverty. It moves him to start thinking differently

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  4. "Our children can’t afford lobbyists--"

    I’m not a poet and don’t know anything about the rules of poetry. But there was an article written in The New York Times by Amber Scorah (Nove 15, 2015)that caught my eye and heart. Titled A BABY DIES AT DAY CARE, and a MOTHER ASKS WHY SHE HAD TO LEAVE HIM SO SOON. Families such as in this case struggle with the reality of having to choose between the care of their child and work. I strongly believe that our society should have systems that aide’s families, and see’s children’s lives a priority. The United States falls behind in this area in comparison to other countries. We are a culture that has little value in the quality of care our children get, we are a culture that does not value the length of time a parent stays with their child. Maybe if we did value small lives more. Maybe just maybe. We would have healthier adults, families, or even an environment. Maybe this is just a small butterfly, damn from the start, flapping its innocent wings through a culture who doesn’t give a damn. Small wings that cause an effect so grand, that are futures are doomed from the start. I don’t know. Anyway, enough on my rant. Here is my lame excuse of a poem.

    For three months I held you.
    For three months I watched,
    The rise and fall of your small chest.

    The cries for hunger,
    The cries of joy.
    The deep sound of noise.

    My heart burns with fear.
    Why must I leave you?
    My days have been numbered.

    My heart hurts,
    As my wallet burns.
    Will anyone care, as much as I care?

    The tiny beat.
    Lub-dub-lub-dub-lub-dub.
    The sweet sound of a mother's song.

    Today is the day,
    To leave you is my pain.
    Will anyone value, the sweet beat?

    I breathe.
    I leave.
    A tear is all.

    But, now it’s not all.

    I cry for stolen time.
    I cry for a child that was never mine.
    The deep sounds of wails fill the night.

    My heart burns with anger.
    For his days had been numbered.
    Can anyone value the beating?

    My dear child.
    My dear, dear child.
    My child of only three months.

    Lub-dub... Lub...dub...lu...

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