Year 3, Semester 1, Week 2
I couldn't concentrate in the lecture because I was desperately tired since I'd spent the previous evening/witching hour bonding with my absentee Father until past 3am. The 7am wake up call did not sit well with me and so I was somewhat unable to focus or think properly. I feel like I wasn't soap-boxing in class as much as usual, so perhaps you noticed that there was something strange going on when you managed to get a word in.
In the lecture I should have been thinking about the Nymph and the Shepherd's complicated little knot of love/lust/dellusion/cynicism but instead I was writing my own Shakespearian sonnet, in the 14 line structure of abab, cdcd, efef, gg. I was waaaayyyy too spaced out to be able to function in iambic pentameter, but I sent my little poem past Nicole (nicoledon ) and Alex (who I oddly can't find the livejournal for, I will conduct another search and put her link up here when I find it) for some quality control, and they seemed to like it so I shall post it here.
A Sonnet For ENGL210
Gosh I'm groggy, go away
It's barely past the dawning
my waking bones and aching brain
are pleading through the yawning.
Showers cold and coffees bought
my lids remain half closed
I sit and can remember nought
of the hours since I rose.
The Bard and all his ruffed-up peers
who sing of love and beauty
so close to sunrise only appear
a touch love-drunk and fruity.
I love a sonnet, poem or play
as long as I read it after mid-day.
By Elise McKenzie
Writing a sonnet was difficult for me not only because my brain was mush, but because I find rhyming heinous, tedious and contrived, and I find it difficult to convey emotion (in my opinion, the whole purpose of poetry) when one is tied to a rhyme. However, I am irritatingly good at rhyming words, as if my heart is all passionate about being liberated and so encourages me to create in free verse and wanton prose, while my brain is a nerdy catalogue of potential rhymes. I think the rhyme in this particular case works because the hour was heinous, and staying awake was tedious, and rhyme always lends itself to a bit of dark humour. I hope you liked the poem, or at the very least, sympathised with the sentiments expressed :-)
* * * * * * *
I went and commented on John's ( john-mahoney.livejournal.com/15528.html ) entry this week. I comment on him a lot, that is because I find him easy and interesting to read. Next week I will try to venture further from the comfort zone that is his journal, as I need to get more of a flavour for the Lit crew.
I'd Just Finished Saying How I Thought I'd Spoken Less This Week
And therefore thought I'd given other people more of a chance to talk instead of listening to what would have been my inconhesive, over-tired drivel, but obviously you didn't get a chance!
I am glad you have posted up here so I can read it after a nap, in the quiet, soothing surroundings of my bedroom, as it would have gone right through my jelly brain this morning and I'd have missed it. (I think the fleuro lights in TS02 did little to improve my situation).
I think that your connection of "Fall" and "Autumn" are totally legitimate, regardless of the fact that America was still a sort of fetus country around the time of Shakespeare, there is a reason they call Autumn "Fall" and it's because of the actual natural phenomenon of the leaves falling. I know you know that but I have to post this on my livejournal as a "comment for the week" so I am trying to demonstrate my understanding of the situation.
Anywho, appreciating that "fall" is an acceptable reference to a certain time of year when things begin to fade and die, I find it EXTREMELY interesting that there is indeed no reference to summer in this stanza, emphasising the Nymphs sentiments (as I interpreted them) about how the Shepherds idealistic dreams of a love which involved a lifetime of frollicking and flowers were 1) not mature, because he was focussed so much on the "spring", instead of the maturity of the "summer" (which, though often wonderful has it's realistic and unavoidable downsides like drought and sunburn, especially in this country) and 2) sure to change, as all seasons do.
Nice one John, maybe bring one of those giant football-fan foam fingers into class next week so when you want to make a point, MG can't miss you.
In the lecture I should have been thinking about the Nymph and the Shepherd's complicated little knot of love/lust/dellusion/cynicism but instead I was writing my own Shakespearian sonnet, in the 14 line structure of abab, cdcd, efef, gg. I was waaaayyyy too spaced out to be able to function in iambic pentameter, but I sent my little poem past Nicole (nicoledon ) and Alex (who I oddly can't find the livejournal for, I will conduct another search and put her link up here when I find it) for some quality control, and they seemed to like it so I shall post it here.
A Sonnet For ENGL210
Gosh I'm groggy, go away
It's barely past the dawning
my waking bones and aching brain
are pleading through the yawning.
Showers cold and coffees bought
my lids remain half closed
I sit and can remember nought
of the hours since I rose.
The Bard and all his ruffed-up peers
who sing of love and beauty
so close to sunrise only appear
a touch love-drunk and fruity.
I love a sonnet, poem or play
as long as I read it after mid-day.
By Elise McKenzie
Writing a sonnet was difficult for me not only because my brain was mush, but because I find rhyming heinous, tedious and contrived, and I find it difficult to convey emotion (in my opinion, the whole purpose of poetry) when one is tied to a rhyme. However, I am irritatingly good at rhyming words, as if my heart is all passionate about being liberated and so encourages me to create in free verse and wanton prose, while my brain is a nerdy catalogue of potential rhymes. I think the rhyme in this particular case works because the hour was heinous, and staying awake was tedious, and rhyme always lends itself to a bit of dark humour. I hope you liked the poem, or at the very least, sympathised with the sentiments expressed :-)
* * * * * * *
I went and commented on John's ( john-mahoney.livejournal.com/15528.html ) entry this week. I comment on him a lot, that is because I find him easy and interesting to read. Next week I will try to venture further from the comfort zone that is his journal, as I need to get more of a flavour for the Lit crew.
I'd Just Finished Saying How I Thought I'd Spoken Less This Week
And therefore thought I'd given other people more of a chance to talk instead of listening to what would have been my inconhesive, over-tired drivel, but obviously you didn't get a chance!
I am glad you have posted up here so I can read it after a nap, in the quiet, soothing surroundings of my bedroom, as it would have gone right through my jelly brain this morning and I'd have missed it. (I think the fleuro lights in TS02 did little to improve my situation).
I think that your connection of "Fall" and "Autumn" are totally legitimate, regardless of the fact that America was still a sort of fetus country around the time of Shakespeare, there is a reason they call Autumn "Fall" and it's because of the actual natural phenomenon of the leaves falling. I know you know that but I have to post this on my livejournal as a "comment for the week" so I am trying to demonstrate my understanding of the situation.
Anywho, appreciating that "fall" is an acceptable reference to a certain time of year when things begin to fade and die, I find it EXTREMELY interesting that there is indeed no reference to summer in this stanza, emphasising the Nymphs sentiments (as I interpreted them) about how the Shepherds idealistic dreams of a love which involved a lifetime of frollicking and flowers were 1) not mature, because he was focussed so much on the "spring", instead of the maturity of the "summer" (which, though often wonderful has it's realistic and unavoidable downsides like drought and sunburn, especially in this country) and 2) sure to change, as all seasons do.
Nice one John, maybe bring one of those giant football-fan foam fingers into class next week so when you want to make a point, MG can't miss you.