Ranting
Well, yeah. I feel the need to rant about this, even though I've already ranted several times. This is a poem I wrote for advanced imaginative writing, which is pretty much just a joke of a class. My professor generally loves the crappy poems that I pull out of my ass just so that I have something to turn in. This was another one of those, but she just doesn't get the poem. I am hoping that one of you gets it and that the poem really isn't just confusing like she says it is. I'm giving you the poem plus the comments she wrote on it.
Everything in bold italics are the comments my porfessor made on the poem. The lines of the poem put in parenthesis she recommends removing.
Rock #1 (oh yeah, this is the crappy title I gave it because she insisted that it must have a title, hence the stupidness)
Whipping wind they say
When you are small
Put rocks in your pockets
Don’t blow away
A rock found
Shape and color
Of a kidney bean
Weight in the pocket
Repetitive rubbing
Mind blanking
Staring at nothing
Breath leveling like sleep
Fat and clammy in my palm (she said that "in my palm" should the second line, by itself)
Thumb tracing old
Water rounded edges
Wanting to rub it polished smooth (she wanted me to get rid of this line completely)
A worry stone
to banish(Worrying away now) What specifically would you worry away?
(Until the past returns)
(A memory stone) I like the idea of an adult still needing a worry stone. Still, this stanza is confusing.
In my pocket reminding
Standing on the precipice of a rock (the words "of a rock" were circled and she said maybe bare toes gripping a rock)
Watching him take pictures
The city down below.
Somehow you need to let us see some danger-some need for an adult to still need to rub that stone in the pocket. (mine is magenta) About a B+ now.
So yeah. I guess I should preface this by saying that this poem is about a specific day when I went up to the Rims with Nick and watched him take pictures. Oh, and this is the second version, I already did revisions before she saw this one.
All the comments frustrated me very much. First, I don't want to get rid of the line in the fourth stanza because that is the reason I picked up the stone in the first place. I thought it would be cool to see how long I could keep a rock in my pocket and see if I could make it shiny or something just by touching it, or how long that would take.
The fifth stanza is pretty much what the whole fucking poem is about. I guess it is confusing because I say it is a worry stone to start with, but it isn't. I say it is "worrying away now" which I know she didn't understand because of her comment. I meant now as in the present, this point in time. I think she thought that it was now worrying something away. However, that is the point of the following line, and even though it isn't really clear, it means the present goes away until I remember the past, hence the last line that calls the stone a memory stone. I dunno, maybe it is confusing, but I really thought that the transition from the worry stone at the beginning of the stanza to the memory stone at the end of the stanza made sense.
Plus, the first line of the next stanza is about it reminding. Blah! And the whole thing about bare toes gripping a rock...no. Just. No. That's just her attempt to put in something of her own. The poem is about remembering an actual day. It was fucking cold that day, I wouldn't be barefoot. And then the whole thing about danger. In the previous draft she had thought there was danger, and that Nick was dangerous (yeah, he's about as dangerous as a sleeping puppy). In the second draft I made sure I removed the danger because that is not the point of the poem. And then the whole worry stone thing. Who says that worry stones are for a specific age? Why the fuck should it matter? In my opinion, an adult would have more reason for a worry stone than a child because they have more shit to worry about. And why the fuck do I care if her's is magenta? So yeah, I don't think she got the transition from worry to rememberance. The poem is about remembering, not worrying or danger. And fuck if I care if it is a B+, I might just turn in the one she gave me back, with all her comments and everything. I am not changing the poem it is the way I like it. Though I might change the title to "This poem is about remembering." And now back to the not so in depth ranting....
Yeah. Everyone in that class hates it. She uses the exact same syllabus that she has every other semester she taught the class. And pretty much, at least with poetry, she wants everyone to write poems the way she would write a poem. She used to write poems and I don't think she really does as much anymore, so she is trying to make us into her poem writing monkeys. I think me especially, because she always tells Darin he shuold write a poem about this or that and she thinks he's great. He thinks it's ridiculous. But he's graduating, so she needs to make herself a new poem monkey, and I think it's me. She always tells me how she's so glad I can write poetry and that I am this fantastic poet. I like reading poetry, I hate writing it. I don't want to be a poet, dammit. And how does she think all those things I pulled out of my ass were good anyway? But yeah. I think I have ranted extensively.
Everything in bold italics are the comments my porfessor made on the poem. The lines of the poem put in parenthesis she recommends removing.
Rock #1 (oh yeah, this is the crappy title I gave it because she insisted that it must have a title, hence the stupidness)
Whipping wind they say
When you are small
Put rocks in your pockets
Don’t blow away
A rock found
Shape and color
Of a kidney bean
Weight in the pocket
Repetitive rubbing
Mind blanking
Staring at nothing
Breath leveling like sleep
Fat and clammy in my palm (she said that "in my palm" should the second line, by itself)
Thumb tracing old
Water rounded edges
Wanting to rub it polished smooth (she wanted me to get rid of this line completely)
A worry stone
to banish(Worrying away now) What specifically would you worry away?
(Until the past returns)
(A memory stone) I like the idea of an adult still needing a worry stone. Still, this stanza is confusing.
In my pocket reminding
Standing on the precipice of a rock (the words "of a rock" were circled and she said maybe bare toes gripping a rock)
Watching him take pictures
The city down below.
Somehow you need to let us see some danger-some need for an adult to still need to rub that stone in the pocket. (mine is magenta) About a B+ now.
So yeah. I guess I should preface this by saying that this poem is about a specific day when I went up to the Rims with Nick and watched him take pictures. Oh, and this is the second version, I already did revisions before she saw this one.
All the comments frustrated me very much. First, I don't want to get rid of the line in the fourth stanza because that is the reason I picked up the stone in the first place. I thought it would be cool to see how long I could keep a rock in my pocket and see if I could make it shiny or something just by touching it, or how long that would take.
The fifth stanza is pretty much what the whole fucking poem is about. I guess it is confusing because I say it is a worry stone to start with, but it isn't. I say it is "worrying away now" which I know she didn't understand because of her comment. I meant now as in the present, this point in time. I think she thought that it was now worrying something away. However, that is the point of the following line, and even though it isn't really clear, it means the present goes away until I remember the past, hence the last line that calls the stone a memory stone. I dunno, maybe it is confusing, but I really thought that the transition from the worry stone at the beginning of the stanza to the memory stone at the end of the stanza made sense.
Plus, the first line of the next stanza is about it reminding. Blah! And the whole thing about bare toes gripping a rock...no. Just. No. That's just her attempt to put in something of her own. The poem is about remembering an actual day. It was fucking cold that day, I wouldn't be barefoot. And then the whole thing about danger. In the previous draft she had thought there was danger, and that Nick was dangerous (yeah, he's about as dangerous as a sleeping puppy). In the second draft I made sure I removed the danger because that is not the point of the poem. And then the whole worry stone thing. Who says that worry stones are for a specific age? Why the fuck should it matter? In my opinion, an adult would have more reason for a worry stone than a child because they have more shit to worry about. And why the fuck do I care if her's is magenta? So yeah, I don't think she got the transition from worry to rememberance. The poem is about remembering, not worrying or danger. And fuck if I care if it is a B+, I might just turn in the one she gave me back, with all her comments and everything. I am not changing the poem it is the way I like it. Though I might change the title to "This poem is about remembering." And now back to the not so in depth ranting....
Yeah. Everyone in that class hates it. She uses the exact same syllabus that she has every other semester she taught the class. And pretty much, at least with poetry, she wants everyone to write poems the way she would write a poem. She used to write poems and I don't think she really does as much anymore, so she is trying to make us into her poem writing monkeys. I think me especially, because she always tells Darin he shuold write a poem about this or that and she thinks he's great. He thinks it's ridiculous. But he's graduating, so she needs to make herself a new poem monkey, and I think it's me. She always tells me how she's so glad I can write poetry and that I am this fantastic poet. I like reading poetry, I hate writing it. I don't want to be a poet, dammit. And how does she think all those things I pulled out of my ass were good anyway? But yeah. I think I have ranted extensively.