The First Footsteps of Poetry

March

2012-03-02T05:57:00.004-08:00

It's a new month, and with it comes news! This month I'm very pleased and proud to announce that I've made it into Bangor University's own Pulp Magazine, with two of my poems including 'Rude awakenings' and 'Short Night'. This is the first step to getting where I want to be, and I'd like to thank all of my loyal readers who keep coming back and giving me that push I need to create something worth reading.

As a treat, I'll put the two poems that Pulp are using on here also, (but shhh, don't tell them) along with my usual assortment of poetry antics, such as my first solo ride on a train and much more. Expect news of my Novel's progress, as it nears its final manuscript form and preparations for the dreaded agent search.

So without further ado I present, Short night, Inspired my my best friend in the world Douglas Crawford, a man with a good taste in friends and an unusually spectacular taste in Ales and Ciders.

Short Night

No stars. Breath of wind. Far off voices.

It’s only just turned dark. Voices. Lots

Of them. They clamour around, not

Staggering yet. Side lane. Trees overhead.

Cutting silhouettes into the sky. Church.

Stale piss. The smell burns my senses.

Clamour. People. The cake. Oh look

It’s a celebration. Food. Orange drinks.

Lime fingers. The centrepiece went down well.

Swan. Apple. Melon with boiled strawberries.

Girl. Darkened room. Lights. The party can

Begin now. Shudder of shutters. Click, click. Click, Click.

Man with a camera, hope I get to see them later.

Fuzzy hours. Lazy games. Memories. These

Are what I’d dreamed of. The coat. The bag.

The empty room. Trees. The night is still black.

No stars. Dead wind. Far off slurs. They don’t

Walk, they stagger. I know the night is ending.

Room. Bed. Clock. The slurred voices never lie.

It’s late.

The view from Alun 201

2012-01-23T03:30:00.000-08:00

I suppose this one reflects my fascinations with what lay through windows in my first semester. Written while staring though the window of my poetry classroom, this chilling poem almost gives me those Victorian chills I so enjoy.

The view from Alun 201

Lamp. Black. Debutant Plaths, Larkin’s and Audens alike.

One stops to appreciate my eye. Tree. Leaves.

Like Children’s hands reaching towards me. Averted eye.

Old mortar stares me down. Its ancient lines cry wisdom.

There’s nothing funnier than its misery.

To its left, a seemingly gross tumescence.

Engorged Mortar Member. Why no one cringes is beyond me.

Victorian lamp. False garden. How the two are

Forced together fascinate me. No one else – just me.

The Children’s hands reach out. They are my hands.

No wonder, I’m home.

The student Romeo to His Unknown Other

2012-01-16T09:54:00.000-08:00

New year, new poetry. I have conjured up a horde of new poems for you all to celebrate the new year, for the foreseeable future, all of the poems published will have been for my poetry portfolio in the first semester of University. Today's was inspired by the Sheppard to his mistress. Here is my version:

The student Romeo to His Unknown Other

Come with me and be my dove,

And live all pleasure of my love

Gaze upon mountains from indoors.

Those lonely looking high up moors.

Here we will sit upon the finest chairs

Of plastic, wood, perhaps the bed,

Watching others wash their socks

Or laden with their books too much.

In here I can make a seaside of paper

Their tides against the crumbs of sand-

Not only last night’s dinner. A scarf

Of autumn leaves, I will lay before you.

A necklace of shoes littering my room

These are your pearls. The Masses of

Wires are your dresses, and your crown

Colours captured as though pillow bound.

On our walks you will eat ice cream, even

In October, nothing is sweeter. I will pluck

For you, loose change from my pocket, pubs

And pool tables will be your pleasures.

The diamond sparkle for your eye, shall be the

Garfield comics on my computer screen. And

Caviar is nothing compared to your crackers

Perhaps with cheese, made half hourly.

Others will look in awe, at you my Queen-bright-

No doubt taller than me. When May will move

We shall sing each morning, devoting to delight.

Now my dove- live with me and be my love.

Halloween poem

2011-10-31T07:07:00.000-07:00

Something a little more metaphorical for this Year's Halloween post, it remains true to the fact that it was written today and for Halloween, but the rest is for you to make your own mind up about. I really enjoyed writing this poem. It seems these days all I need do is stare out of my window and a poem is born. Enjoy!:

Silent ground. Fleeing sky. The tension rope.

Strong hooks. It’s time again, you know the one.

Ten, nine. Tense ground. Fleeing rope. Nine, ten.

Halloween morning, it’s time, you know which one.

Eight, seven. I’m counting the hours. Seven, eight.

Strong rope. Sky hooks. Fleeing silence. The bird.

Tearing up the earth. Six, five. The hooks again.

They tear both cloud and earth. Five, six. The bird.

He flees from my window. It’s only dawn. Four.

Only this, and plenty less to go. Only four. The bird

Flees. Baskets void of treats. Silence flees. Three, two.

Fleeing hooks. Loose sky. It’s black above. Two, Three.

Whoosh, whoosh, whoosh, Wind. I’ve heard you before.

The bird flees, his basket beak open. The strong ground.

Empty sky. Two, one. It’s almost over. Can you tell? It’s

Pitch black after all. One, two. The bird flees, his basket

Beak open, ready for treats. No more rope. Ground shakes.

The rope is long forgotten. Zero. It’s time again, you know

Which one. Trick or treat. The Halloween poem.

Book

2011-08-31T08:27:00.000-07:00

Whenever I'm caught reading for days on end, as I have been this summer, I tend to lose my grip on reality. So in keeping with this month's theme, I present to you my love of reading.

Book

You, leaves of white and

Sometimes black between-

A brief hint, of my fantasy

Made suddenly tangible.

They say I’d prefer a computer

But they lied of course,

Why else would your

Golden embroidery gather

Dust upon my shelf?

I still look at you-

Every day, in fact.

Every time I walk in

I stare-

There are many of you

No wonder my mind

Can’t tell- one world

From another.

Dressing Gown

2011-08-24T03:29:00.000-07:00

One of two poems I dedicate to things I can't pass a day without thinking about, everyday objects that go unappreciated by everyone. Today is the day of - you guessed it - the dressing gown.

Dressing gown

I wake up every morning,

From my bed of alone.

Those clean sheets, who

Never sleep, never hug

At all-

The floor is always cold

One foot tells the other,

But that doesn’t stop

The trudging that much-

Even in the summer.

Once your arms entwine

In mine, and your front

Lies over my middle.

I feel your cord-

Always My warmth

That makes us inseparable.

Pale

2011-08-18T04:32:00.000-07:00

I must confess to being a tad delicate today, but who can blame me after the summer I've had? I've passed a driving test, written a novel and of three hours ago gotten accepted into Bangor university to study English with French for four years; another step up on my career ladder. So here is today's poem, I hope you all enjoy it.

Pale

Your Sculptured skin

All marble white-

With little bumps

Little nooks, sheen

Always so bright.

I remember-

Finger pressed touch

The shivering tingle-

Down my spine.

Beat that heart of

Stone- lips of limes.

Rough touch, slight taste

Little flakes of snow

I’ve loved them so.

How I thanked mum,

For bringing them home.

Spring draws near,

I feel an end,

That disappear

Spring will come.

Unfreeze water.

Another year of

Forlorn summer.

Burst Pipe

2011-08-15T05:21:00.000-07:00

I've been inspired lately about everything seemingly insignificant in my everyday life, realising that nothing, is truly insignificant after all. This is possibly one of the most annoying events of the day for me, but when I reflect upon it afterwards I have to question why. So here it is, the poem of the day:

Burst pipe

No longer can I keep it in

That liquid in between

Pipes so coarse and cold

And thin, yet who tear at

Frown and grin.

Sitting on the bathroom

Wall, covered with paint

Why not dirt at all?

Is this why you weep?

As one roughly sweeps-

Your pipes shut once more?

Breathe

2011-08-12T03:26:00.000-07:00

Something a bit more romantic lines up for you all today. This month's theme has definitely been one of the hardest to pull off, having to channel my creativity in a single direction. I really liked this one, as it can been seen as shyly romantic, or mildly erotic, depending on which way your mind works, (I as the writer take no responsibility for this). I simply hope you enjoy reading this as I did writing it.

Breathe

Here we sat, sticky fingered

Eating creamed buns and

Soggy sweets.

I smelled the sugar

On your tongue- whispered

Come on in, touch me-

Who knows where it may lead?

The park bench pinched

My rump, I think yours too,

Why else would you

Fidget so?

Your breast rose high,

And wouldn’t return to rest.

All I want is that gasp,

Your fresh sugar breath,

The rush will surely

Go- to my head.

Mask

2011-08-08T05:15:00.000-07:00

Unveiling my latest theme of poetry you can touch, I bring to you the poem Mask. I hope you all enjoy it, it is certainly emotive to read.

Mask

Life is just a ball-

A masquerade, if you will.

At the door. We take off

Our cloaks, and put on

Fake faces, capes as well.

Business is only a dance-

Where men in suits

Court men in suits.

The boss- obviously

A Ballerina from birth.

Love is blind- so they say.

Yet why do vanities,

Luxuries, get in the way?

Oh look little spider-

That mate won’t even

Eat you up.

Death is just a door-

An unveiling, if you will.

Where we take off our masks,

And let you know what

A great pretender you were.

A sonnet of Thanks

2011-08-06T04:07:00.000-07:00

Now for all of you out there who do not know me personally, there's just one thing you should know about me; I never let a good deed go unthanked. Today's poem is explicitly for that purpose, to congratulate this person on her patience and diligence of following and even offering advice when needed in all areas of work, and some in life. Writing poems for people isn't as easy as you see on television, unless you want to write something that you'd see in Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets, (recites-you eyes are green as a fresh pickled toad), definitely fun, but now is not the time for that. This month's theme is set, and some poems are written, in between obsessively scrambling the end of my novel together. Now, without further adieu I give you, my thanks:

Sonnet to thine Starri Knytes

Men have learned to read betwixt the night stars

All have gazed upon them, they never glare

The sun, how he shines, unholy centre

Of the heavenly host commands, ‘all seas,’

‘All see, Athena, Aphrodite, knights -

Of the realm, Starri Knytes will drape her hair

Over your gold ambrosia. This rare

Womanly host guides us, these are her stars.

Such golden deities are almost glass

Never asking for worship unlike gods.

Lazy tyrants- why could they not be Knytes?

So we could live under the bright night skies.

Without this host, just what would come to pass?

Nothing for gods are truly second class.

A blog of Comedy

2011-08-02T06:09:00.000-07:00

Comedy

This post will be a little more informal than most mainly due to two weeks of sleep deprivation and a thirteen hour marathon of Dr Who just before writing this, they are not a good cocktail. I’m going to try and incorporate my comical ambitions with today’s post, yet stay topical with my usual themes of the writer and influences.

While we’re all young we question what profession we’ll go into when we’ve finished with education. I personally have always fancied myself as a writer; I know I’m an abomination, but your letter bombs haven’t found me yet!

Up until the age of about fifteen, I’d worked on poetry alone; with adding stories and articles to my repertoire, it shows obviously how I’ve diversified over the years. I sound like a business, I just lack a manager, but let’s face it, there’s no woman crazy enough to share a room with me let alone a shackle.

For the last few years I’ve been fascinated by comedians, or at least trying to break into the world of comedy. I have to avoid watching the Apollo otherwise I begin to think, very wrongly, I can be a gag writer after an hour of someone drivelling on about their genitals. In honesty if that makes me think I’m any good I should just try secondary sex ed, cucumber and a condom anyone?

You know how we all laugh at what children say no mater how idiotic it is we find it hilarious, only because we’re thinking the exact same thing? I feel it’s a shame that’s beaten out of kids at secondary school, it’s no wonder good comedians are a dying breed, still, you have to learn how to give a decent wedgies at some point, or your kids would miss out.

I feel that the most bonkers people in society today are comedians and English teachers, or in the case of Mr Frankie Boyle: both. It takes a man with a real set of balls, or a sense of humour that could crack up royalty to sit in front of a class of young hormonal girls and read how a man has been screwing them all over for years. Personally I’m more in favour of throwing the book at them, not being biased; I’d lob a dictionary or two at the lads and head for the hills. But mum said I’m not allowed to do that again, I have to set an example, and hand out the pitch forks, one each before legging it. Apparently it’s good practice for later in life.

On a more serious note, I’m still wishing I were one of those, maybe not handsome, or cool people on stage, but I’d love to do what they do. It may never happen, but as with the catch phrase this generation has opted for, ‘I do it for de lulz’.

Erotic poetry

2011-07-27T03:44:00.000-07:00

Sometimes something, or someone catches our eye, it's only natural that we desire things. I've been watching a lot of star trek lately, so this is really a pure hearted Star Trek fan's thoughts on some of the cast. Enjoy.

Sexy Star Trek Girl

Sexy star trek girl I’ve waited so long

Temptress of five seasons, it’s wrong,

I’ve survived your skin tights and uniform

Surely you’ll be mine before it’s all gone?

Your nightdress was a jacket, not fine

Was there nothing other to wear that night?

Why do you all wrap up like Victorian Vines?

Yet without the need to shield your thighs.

Your eye’s phaser me, always on stun

You blame me for looking, though dumb?

At those hair styles, tightened buns,

Not to mention your rounded sums.

Sometimes as a telepath, or a Trill

You may be human, once in a while,

But the Borg certainly knows how to move

She would waltz that floor, swaying well.

The voice varies, from your cherry lips

The councillor, the fighter, my woman.

So where do I fit in, in this world?

At my console captain, where else?

Poem of Quartets: Inspiration

2011-07-21T04:04:00.000-07:00

Something nice and simple today, about something all us writers can't get enough of. how did I think of this one? Well believe it or not I had a mixture of Katy Perry's California girls, Peter Pan and this month's theme in mind, not to mention whatever else I've now forgotten. So here it is, get inspired!

Inspiration

Let me take you on a journey,

Please extend your little hand.

Together we will slip gently

Into the maybe wonderland.

Music of the mind, meld lovely

Scenes of films, dressed in dust suits.

All along they were hidden away

They freshen up with your memory soaps.

Here the land of inkwells, no computers,

Nor biros in this land. Here we fly

With pirates and boy catchers,

Locked in battles, we pass them by.

Through the window, without a broom

Here is your next adventure to tell,

You saw it, yes the little Jay

On the ledge of your old bedroom.

Free Verse

2011-07-18T03:14:00.000-07:00

Possibly the most liberal way to demonstrate rhythm in poetry, and easily the most popularly written form, I present the free verse. This poem is probably the head liner of this month, the question is, did I pull this one off? Let me know!

Rhythm of poetry

Poetry can be river, and of stone,

It is both of these things and still more.

Inside of the body, perhaps the soul-

Feel that beat? It’s poetry you fool!

Poor little musician, writing tool

You’re giving birth to puppets you know?

Songs of saints, and soldiers the same

You hear what we have gained?

A smile, a tear, a child’s bashed ear:

Shakespeare did it for life, you for profit.

A man in a suit to tell you what’s ‘fab’

He who disowned the little yellow cab-

Limos are of course the way to go.

Our words ride with him, on we go.

Haiku’s for the beat, sonnets for souls

Villanelles for women, and ballads for all,

Each one with their own tune, you know?

I leave you with this, Poetry is all!

Harry Potter poem

2011-07-14T04:00:00.000-07:00

I've seen numerous attempts at writing poetry, dedicated to he man with the lightning scar. However, I've seen very few I would call 'poetry', do offence to those less able at writing this stuff, it just requires a certain finesse which they lack. Themed poetry is possibly the hardest to write, seeing as your choice of words becomes ever narrowed by what you're trying to describe nevertheless, this is my tribute to Prof McGonagall's speech, before the final battle for Hogwarts. NB all those who have not read Deathly Hallows, please jump in a river, climb out and ask yourselves why you haven't read it before reading this!

Rage against the Voldemort

Wizarding world unite, now I speak

We stand tonight, no longer meek.

Outside Voldemort waits, creeping

Through out defences, scheming

His way inside, well we say no!

It is time to defend our school.

Young ones follow Mr Filch, no fools

For our army, Mr Creevey, you too!

Mr Potter has business here tonight.

It is time to close the doors.

Fight not for pride but for all.

I will lead the way, will you join me?

Tonight, Hogwarts will not fall!

Filius, cast your charms, Horace

Take the grounds, I will cover

The towers, now all, let’s go!

Rage against Voldemort finally tonight.

Villanelle: Broken Record

2011-07-10T04:00:00.000-07:00

Continuing the theme of Rhythm, to a more traditional sense, I bring you this sonnet. Its style is the embodiment of what I'm trying to capture this month, and is also my preferred style of poetry perhaps because , I am a broken record.

Broken Record

I am a record, broken of course

Never changing my tone, same note

By that needle, always so coarse.

I play Jazz, though nothing morose

I survived the jukebox but-

I am a record, broken of course

I’m even a grandparent, loose

Are my CD children, unhurt

By that needle, always so coarse.

Though the dust settled only once

Will Rap or the robot end my lot?

I am a record, broken of course

They still listen, smiles toothless

Partying no more in the night light

By that needle, always so coarse.

I repeat lines like a river’s course,

I will always proudly put-

I am a record, broken of course

By that needle, always so coarse.

Sarah, a loose sonnet

2011-07-08T02:56:00.000-07:00

Sometimes we all look back at our experiences and ask, what if? Well earlier this week, I stumbled upon that question when thinking about a girl, as most men do. I looked at where I am today, and wondered if I'd ever really gotten over that old heartache, the conclusion: probably not.

The first piece I produced to get my back into my old writing habits is titled and written about someone who was always out of my league, and probably always will be.

Sarah

I surround myself with all pretty things,

I enjoy each time your face hides within,

Recovering from a torment, akin

To teenage crushes, naive youth pleases

Itself calling the abstract: real. Pitiless

Sorrows still haunt memory of her; trim,

Slim, of face and mind always maturing

Clearly left me behind, I am waiting.

I surround myself with baubles that shine,

In ever imagined rapport with you

Devout of course, how else should I pass time?

You bauble, your face shines that bright blue hue.

You don’t see me of course, I'm the lowly dew

What did I expect? Never, rests my moon.

Writing season has arrived

2011-07-06T06:29:00.000-07:00

It has been far too long, months and months in fact. The last time I attempted poetry was back in November, as I’m sure anyone who’s kept track here will notice. This month I hope to bring my reader(s) at least five brand new and very different poems.

So, why has it been so long I hear at least one whisper out there ask, in short, finishing college and a lack of self esteem, rejections obviously hit harder than a curve ball in the chest. This week I’ve tried new themes of poetry, and some old, all in the sole aim of bringing my skills forward and thrilling anyone who comes across the name Realmskipper on the internet, which I’ve noticed has generated quite the buzz.

What have I found to inspire this month’s theme of poetry? I admitted that there was a new theme this month, or at least an attempted one. I can say that as I’ve been teaching myself piano with all my free time, it is actually all things that give us Rhythm, as just rhythm is too narrow. This includes; love, life and of course, our passions.

I look forward to taking all my readers on a journey, and as always thanks for finishing this article. Leave your thoughts and maybe suggestions for what you’d like to see more of in the future!

How to Beat 'The Chopping Block'

2011-06-02T07:35:00.000-07:00

Once or twice, you will put your head on the block, so to speak, and when you do you will either be short back and sides, or a little too much off the top. This interlude is really to talk about how I prepare for ‘the block’.

We all tumble upon writer’s block, more often than we’d like to admit sometimes, this phenomenon exists to separate the wheat from the chaff. Personally I have never encountered ‘the block’ for more than an hour, not due to my well of imagination, or because of the endless bollocks I can spout, (though they’re both invaluable tools). I’m talking here of course, how to knock out writer’s block, with a single blow!

I can already hear the crowd divided, ‘has he the miracle cure’, ‘he’s just another blow hart’ but NO, I kid you not people. There are two similar things you need for writing poetry and literature, firstly, and foremost, is silence! No talking children in your ear, no partner demanding a romantic candle lit dinner. The experience you’ve sat down to create for your audience will be a private and intimate date between you and your paper, whether virtual or tangible.

From this point on, simply stick on your favourite, blood pumping music, whether it be to move your soul or quicken your pulse: it’s just trial and error.

For poets

They say you must suffer to write, the truth is you certainly have been truly touched to find the beauty in what you convey
If you’re stuck, find the original source of inspiration, feel free to day dream at this juncture
You’re never wrong when it comes to this field, but yes there is good poetry and likewise!

For writers

· The novel is putting a bit of yourself into the world, show you through your characters, and be unashamedly judged

· This, I admit, could take years; have an unshakable dedication to what you start.

· Daydreams are your friends!

· If you know any artists, or you are a dab hand at the pencil, or modern day software, then draw, paint doodle!

· Disney has probably inspired most of our ‘modern day’ writers to some point, don’t be at a disadvantage!

This of course brings into perspective, that I myself am always inspired by many things at one time to write, whether from stress of examinations, the having a good old skive with my sister to Beauty and the Beast, if you can only take one inspiration at a time, you’ll be at your first masterpiece for a long, long time.

Life on the Line

2011-04-03T13:17:00.000-07:00

I thought seeing as I haven’t posted in a long time It was about time I let my readers discover the dirty secrets of what I’ve been up to.

But where do I start? I can never call my life quiet, despite having no social life, at least in person.

Alright, let us start at the beginning, it seems only logical January arrived in the form of exams, which if I haven’t mentioned already, were a nightmare, I doubt I did much in the way of productiveness at that point except work myself to the bone catching up with college work. I may be alone in saying; I don’t enjoy something until I find myself in a steady yet fast paced grind at it, naturally that’s my addictive personality shining through. But as February dawned I achieved that mountain and caught up with my classmates, surprising a few teachers along the way.

February, I briefly mentioned with my visit to Bangor, the ringing of that inspiration carried me through the whole month in my first quarter (as I describe Jan-Mar for obvious reasons).

March has been an incredibly Jam packed month full of highs and lows to suit all varieties; this is where bullet points are invaluable people!

Exam results- Remember January? I sure do! I improved all my grades, in short, Maths (one module in both years) and Chemistry saw me receive D’s and in French the Holy Grail (to me), a C.
Second point of interest would be receiving a rejection letter for my poetry book Chon-Ji from Carcanet. It wasn’t entirely unexpected, but it’s never a step in the wrong direction, even rejection is a step forwards.

Okay, hopefully someone’s still following, we hit mid march with preparation for my two French orals in April, and at the same time the distractions, yay!

Learning the finer points of chess, I became tired of being spectacularly beaten every time I play, and so I’ve been practicing so much I’ve found it easier to leave my board out, have I improved?...Have I hell, but I’m enjoying it nevertheless.
And of course, the unproductive distraction, Pokémon! A little friendly competition against my sister keeps me going back for more when I know it’s naughty.
We reach the end of march with my reading list, very short, but shall do better once the exam periods are over. 1001 Arabian nights, I thought was amazing, so vibrant and heart touching I could feel the sand and retell the stories to everyone around (which I have done once or twice), Currently I’m reading the complete works of the Brothers Grimm to my sister, who is enjoying then, though not as much as I
finally I bring you steady reader to March 31^st a Thursday I kid you not, bringing the cloak of death upon my household and taking away my dear dog, He shall be missed

Now looking ahead, I see vain attempts at writing again in the future, but when I know not, for I don’t have a crystal ball but I do know you will all hear from me soon enough, but Until then, thanks for reading!

Juggling Time

2011-02-11T01:44:00.000-08:00

Have you ever had so much to do you’ve left the things you love to do for months at a time? Forgotten to stop and smell the roses lately, rather than the coffee beans that is? Ever worried so hard that when you’ve just finished a small piece of that dreaded all consuming thing and you feel you’ve barely scratched the surface? No?

Well I regrettably have. Writing has been put on hold for far too long, and I can not say with good conscience it’ll be regular yet for a while, but until then this is close enough. I’m still in waiting for a publisher to get in touch with me, (who isn’t I know), and with exams imminent in just 8 weeks, I’m buried under all the things I need to do to give myself a running start at life, I’m pleased to say I’m making some progress.

But how does this affect you, you ask? Simply, no one is perfect at managing their time, but as this article should be useful, let’s see if I can give some advice from experience.

· Don’t stay up all night working, the next day it’ll hit you hard.

· An early start energises one for the day ahead.

· Coffee needn’t be your only source of energy!

· Classical music clears the mind.

So OK I cheated in the last two, it’s just my method, for prosperity, who knows, someone in twenty years will ask what kept me going. Just remember a good piece of work doesn’t write itself, though, nor does a bad one, and you can’t produce either if you’re too tired to spell your own name.

Until next time, happy writing!

The writer, The surroundings

2011-01-29T10:58:00.000-08:00

It may not be evident to all, hence this latest article, that the writer’s main source of motivation is his/her surroundings. I pose a question to you, if you will indulge me, where was Dracula written? And where were the Bronte sisters said to write? And Charles Dickens, each to their own place, and to their own style and success.

I suppose this has been inspired to my day, and as I write, this is my outlet. Bangor university open day, to the everyday student, not exactly glamorous. Just a backwards little city in North Wales, in fact, I felt as I neared its boundaries, that its tranquillity and serene scenery are something to be admired by anyone with eyes. Two geographical things that motivate me to write, between you and I, The mountains, never a problem to find in Wales I assure you, and bodies of water, preferably salt, not so common here. Each writer will have something different to my own preferences, and I advice you to take full advantage of them, it is one’s natural feng shui.

So what was it about Bangor that inspired me to contribute to this old thing again? Bangor is surrounded by the steepest, mountains I have ever seen, not the biggest mind you, the Maine straight is right on the doorstep to the university. And almost everywhere you go you have open woodland, the college gardens and I could almost feel the happiness resonating from the students, not something I’m accustomed to!

So, writers out there, if you want to be inspired, don’t restrict your feng shui to your house, don’t simply take up an exercise plan or increase your caffeine dosage to stupid extremes: take a day out to visit somewhere truly beautiful and quet. Any writer worth their quill will know that feeling from a place that creates total peace within them.

Look out for me soon, I hope this will be the first in a long line of profound thoughts.

Halloween Poem

2010-10-30T18:11:00.000-07:00

What self respecting writer can pass up Halloween as an excuse to write? Not me that's for sure! Written for my sister, Roxanne, I present my own version of Halloween Poetry for 2010:

All comes to life on Halloween night

Vampy ghouls to give a fright

Dracula’s kids all rampant riot

For sweets galore, they all shout it.

Galloping snakes, phantoms beware

Tonight you’ll get a really good scare,

You can’t escape by shutting your eyes

Otherwise you’re in for a nasty surprise

We the kids of Halloween night,

Have come to get our sweetie delight

Knock on the door and give a big scare

Toffee, jelly, we don’t care

We hit the streets in the thousands

Hiding within, our sneaky companions.

Dracula’s come out for adults alone,

With we the children, out for more.

So please don’t- lock up your door

We’d hate to trick you, oh what a bore!

We the kids of Halloween night

Have come to get our sweetie delight.

Trick or treat, we knock at your door

Adults beware of our Halloween song

For all comes to life on Halloween night

Dressed up as children to give a big fright.

Structure that Book!

2010-10-30T15:54:00.000-07:00

Any work of art is a messy room at one point, but something such as a book needs order; draws for the titles, boxes for chapters, why should poetry be any different?

Taking prime example from Sylvia Plath’s ‘Ariel’, as I do a lot, we see how she opens it with the birth of her son, and ends with ‘edge’, being the final poem dictating death in Its entirety. Perhaps an easier way to depict this hieroglyph would be by taking example from the book I’m currently writing.

Chon-Ji, a narrative poetry book, dictates the creation of two beings, Earth, the mother, and Heaven, the son. I follow them exploring their individuality, and developing their vanity to the point of no return. It ends with the end of one life cycle and the beginning of the next, as the beginning does. By no means is it a feel good read, but it is certainly true on many levels.

So how do we edit such an eyesore to begin with, being the tidy room not the book? You first need to find its, as I call it, ‘grounding point’, what is the basis or reason for Its being? From there it’s simply a chain of events, and side thoughts progressing to the inevitable and all too soon, end. Naturally it is my own opinion, but I can not see how it could lead any writer far wrong.

There is of course, the well loved second method, of slap dash and hope for the best, but I feel, as do many other writers that writing reflects the life of the writer. Just as there is a spring before summer, childhood before old age, the book should have a definite start and beginning. If you intend to make a life of this choice you will look back in years to come and see how each book you wrote was a reflection of that point in your life. You may find you write about every day things, such as walking the dog, buying a newspaper, or philosophising a poetical narrative about the meaning of life, in short your writing reflects your nature.

Naturally this has set cogs turning in your head, as you pause from throwing your ideas, pal-mal into the closet and draws, you wonder, ‘what if there is a my way’.

Of course the answer is, you’re right! It is your miracle, so it reflects you, providing you’re not the lazy type. Starting with the middle and saying, ‘yep, that’ll do’ rather than acknowledging that it is you’re style, and having it in that order that gives you that warm fuzzy feeling inside.

So for your consideration: a messy room has an order to its habitant, writing should too.

Writing: Dreaming That First Draft

2010-10-20T13:25:00.000-07:00

Dreaming up that first draft requires a lot of time, and the patience of a saint. We all have a real life outside of our imagination; if we could combine the two, there wouldn’t be a straight line in sight across the globe. To be a writer, having an over active imagination is an obvious must, but it is only one of the many traits a good scholar needs in his or her arsenal.

It becomes increasingly evident that good parents also make good writers, as long as the first need is met. Parenting is about having the patience of a saint, so is shaping and editing any piece of work, or even waiting for the idea. It’s been known for weeks or even months before that golden idea will hit. So always keep up with your real life because you never know when your fictional one will want to sweep you away.

How to bring your first draft into existence,

Poetry:

Build up a firm understanding of poetry in general
Experiment with poetical devices and forms
Imagery, symbolism and other theories, familiarise yourself with them!
never forget, the meter is almost more important than the words

Novel writing:

You can’t fluke it, you need to know what you’re doing
Set the scene, it must be as vivid for the reader as it is for you
Live in the world yourself, know about it and make all the notes you can
Keep your paragraphs in line, let the reader breathe.

I’ll end my little tips with my five writers golden rules (which have never let me down)

No research is ever wasted, know your topic
No such thing as bad criticism when it’s constructive
Not everything has to have a deeper meaning, some like simplicity
Patience, it always comes to you when you relax
Even writers need down time, it means you can work all that bit harder.

With this very short, but hopefully helpful bundle of words, I hope to have guided or inspired someone out there to succeed at what I’ve devoted most of my life to already. Happy writing!

a swift update

2010-10-15T12:46:00.000-07:00

It's been too long since my last update, and honestly I'm only posting from guilt of neglecting my duties. Illness as well as a complete wipe out of energy has left me withering, one would thing me an insect. The good news is that through two weeks of muddle fuddling and general cubuddling (yes my own coinage) I'm over half way through what's kept me away from here, the poetry book, ‘Chon-Ji’ - heaven and earth. It tells the tale of Chon and Ji, created by an unknown old man. Chon, the mother Earth creates Ji, her son.

She unfortunately can not curb her creative urges and this is when her creation fight back, corrupting her son until he leaves in search for immortality. With Greek inspiration I've striven to create a masterpiece, I hope I don't let myself, nor you readers down.

Free verse poem 2 Message in a bottle

2010-09-26T14:30:00.000-07:00

Yes another adaption of the police's hit album, cheap, cliqué maybe, but inspired by real emotions. For someone who makes me wonder this ever hour of the day, I present my own adaption of this Free verse poem.

The waves are full of them

A glance sets off another.

That one could need a Gem

Or a hundred thousand to

Get to your beach wherever.

-------

So this is a rough sketch

The meaning is the same,

I’ve lit the match, writ the

Book, but I ask---

-------

Do you feel the same?

--------

I don’t know if I reach you

You’re so far gone, yet I

Sealed it very tight

And addressed to you my dear.

-----------

Will you ever reply?

----------

The mariner has read it,

I dare say a spaceman

Or two-

But yet none of those concern

More to me than you, you, you

I hope you see what I hath writ

----------

The suspense is too much, reply!

-----------

Lo it washes up on your shore,

Yet no answer to me befalls,

The look of concern wipes

Across your brow, and is replaced

With a smile.

Two Years in a Day

2010-09-13T09:41:00.000-07:00

College, as any student will proclaim, the hardest learning curve one will partake in life; however why is it so hard? Is it the new material? We learn things every day, it’s human nature to want to grow in some shape or form: what makes this so different? Well you see, college has a significant ‘leg up’ on the competition of skills to be learned in life. It expects you to do in two years what it took five to grasp the basics of what you begged yourself to remember over five years.

How are we recommended to learn and understand the ‘Monstro,’ of information they lay upon us? Simply, balance your time and cram as much in as you can! Unfair? Personally I think so, however effective. The work on its own though any human can deal with, don’t believe me? Try a desk job.

What causes more students to break down in their second year is the applications to university, right from day one (or 272, if you count the first year) they expect you ready and willing to go. As in the famous words of Garfield the cat, who probably borrowed them from some other genius: ‘The spirit is willing, however the flesh is fat,’ in my case, I think that sums up the situation, at least metaphorically.

General opinion from teachers is rising that a third year should become statutory in colleges for preparation of the two years of intense study, (a foundation year if you will). Where a student can be taught all the basic skills they are going to need for whatever subject they will do, so it can be done to its best by everyone. I’m in agreement of this move, a little extra help in maths and learning techniques would have carried me a long way much further.

In short this foundation year would also include a basic introduction to several core subjects and new subjects for the students to have a ‘taster’ of in the hopes the drop out rate of new students will decrease.

As a student myself I feel too pushed to achieve my best, which I’m quite happy to do. There is no clear path to getting to where I want to go, yet too many ‘lighthouses in the fog’. Having to worry about; personal statements, my future finances, forms to continue receiving support form college, exam re-sits, future exam results, course research for universities is just too much to handle on my first day back!

Today I tried to cram two years of planning, theory and life into one day, tomorrow I will have to do it all over again, would you like to?

The Art of Literature

2010-09-10T07:09:00.000-07:00

There are over a million words in the English language, probably to account for all the amazing things on this planet. Pick up any old book to get an example of this, they’re everywhere! To draw example to this; I’m currently reading Great Expectations, by Charles Dickens, (and am loving it) in the first part I’ve found a whooping 23 new words. In my sister’s own reading book, supposedly for the still developing mind, there was another word that crossed my path.

It proves the point, reading with your children improves your own IQ, or at least your word power. Where does it leave use without children? Though Victorian literature, one of the richest sources of those shreds of gold, it’s not always the best place for them. I can account for myself while reading Thackeray’s Vanity Fair, it’s not fun when your knowledge of the polysyllabic arts is only basic. My advice for those studying English,, or those who just want to be more efficient with their word counts:

Learn a new language, maybe just the basics!
Don’t be afraid to pick up a children’s short story
Look for online dictionaries, one word a day goes a long way
Spice up your mouth, simply use a new word, see how your friends react
Music, it has many uses if you look in the right places

It’s been a long time between blogs, hopefully with a more structured day these will become more regular. And please, don’t count out decent poetry, it’s reading/ writing season, poetry will return.

The closest thing I'll ever get to fan mail

2010-09-05T10:39:00.000-07:00

A friend recommended that I fill in the book meme, for a bit of fun, to let any readers or fans know a little more about me. I thought about it and concluded ‘this will be the closest I’ll get to fan mail,’

So I took her up on it. 55 questions related to my life of literature, any other questions, feel free to ask.

(just to note there is a formatting error on this page that wont allow me to edit the colour!)

1. Favourite childhood book?

It may not be classical literature, but it was in fact the Garfield pocket book series, ‘Here’s looking at you’ always sticks out in my memory.

2. What are you reading right now?

Perfume by Patrick Suskind

3. What books do you have on request at the library?

I don’t feel comfortable borrowing from libraries; deadlines are too much pressure, so my room is my own personal library.

4. Bad book habit?

Picking up attributes from the protagonist until the book is finished, which takes quite a while.

5. What do you currently have checked out at the library?

Nothing

6. Do you have an e-reader?

A what?

7. Do you prefer to read one book at a time, or several at once?

One at a time, when I was younger I decided it was a huge demand on my memory to read several I never exceeded three.

8. Have your reading habits changed since starting a blog?

Not really if I’m honest, but I wish it would encourage me to read more.

9. Least favourite book you read this year?

I can’t think of one, or see one on my shelves. I think I’ve been fortunate to not have read a bad one this year.

10. Favourite book you’ve read this year?

Oh, I’ve had an amazing year for books, December 26^th to New Year I read Flowers for Algernon, it broke my heart, but this year perhaps the book thief, Marcus Zusak, it was amazing.

11. How often do you read out of your comfort zone?

Maybe twice a year, or when I can get the genre, classical literature, I love reading it, but it is a great strain on my concentration and memory.

12. What is your reading comfort zone?

I have a wide variety of books in that, sci-fi, Dr who books got me started, so I suppose they’re worth mentioning, as well as poetry, obviously a great passion of mine.

13. Can you read on the bus?

I have a phobia of riding buses alone, so probably not.

14. Favourite place to read?

Well I find the corridor outside chemistry in college became a favourite this year; I spent hours there, maybe it will be when term starts.

15. What is your policy on book lending?

I’ve had too many bad experiences to share my books, my sister gives them away, some people vandalised them others stole them/lost them.

16. Do you ever dog-ear books?

*Cringe* that’s barbaric!

17. Do you ever write in the margins of your books?

I’ve only done that in one book, and that was for an exam, I wasn’t happy about it either.

18. Not even with text books?

God no! Who’d be crazy enough to do that?!

19. What is your favourite language to read in?

Without a doubt English, I lack the ability to read proficiently in French

20. What makes you love a book?

I can’t really decide, I like something with a little lore, as in fantasy. In sci-fi I want characters to be real, and the technology to be explained. Though I find the ‘real person’ aspect a bit thing in what I read.

21. What will inspire you to recommend a book?

It must be amazing, especially for me to put my neck out recommending it.

22. Favourite genre?

Sci-fi though it’s a close tie to thriller, the kite runner and a thousand splendid suns, the genesis (guilty pleasures of mine)

23. Genre you rarely read (but wish you did?)

Graphic Novels, Battle Royal books are enjoyable, and there are some kingdom hearts books I’d love to flick through.

24. Favourite biography?

John Barrowman’s ‘Anything Goes’ was simply fabulous

25. Have you ever read a self-help book?

Not that I remember. Though I’m due to read one about poetry

26. Favourite cookbook?

My mum’s, there’s lost of yummy things in it, though the internet provides lots of great ideas too

27. Most inspirational book you’ve read this year (fiction or nonfiction)?

The book thief it made me consider writing children’s stories.

28. Favourite reading snack?

Trying to kick the habit, though usually anything to hand

29. Name a case in which hype ruined your reading experience.

I don’t think it ever has, I don’t read books when they first come out, much too expensive

30. How often do you agree with critics about a book?

When they criticise my work, there’s a lot of talent to be desired yet.

31. How do you feel about giving bad/negative reviews?

I’m known for it, I’m difficult to lease with poetry, with stories if there’s a plot hole, I’ll find it.

32. If you could read in a foreign language, which language would you chose?

French, no idea why, but I have the basics to why not?

33. Most intimidating book you’ve ever read?

Vanity Fair, by William Thackeray what a way to kill brain cells, but I don’t regret reading it.

34. Most intimidating book you’re too nervous to begin?

Vanity Fair, it’s huge, trust me

35. Favourite poet?

Sylvia Plath, she ignited my passion for poetry

36. How many books do you usually have checked out of the library at any given time?

None, I’d never finish them

37. How often have you returned books to the library unread?

Never, but if I took any out it’d be always.

38. Favourite fictional character?

Wow, this one is rather hard. I admit I’ve become emotionally bonded with quite a few protagonists. Charlie Gordon, from lowers for Algernon, must be my favourite though, I feel me and him are similar in too many ways for comfort.

39. Favourite fictional villain?

The most clever in my opinion, and sadly most ruthless, who’s name I can’t remember, from the genesis secret.

40. Books I’m most likely to bring on vacation?

I’ve always been known to take Harry Potter and the prisoner of Azkaban away with me, but now I bring whatever I’m reading, as well as a Garfield book for my sister.

41. The longest I’ve gone without reading.

I can go months without reading a book but the guilt settles in after a fortnight.

42. Name a book that you could/would not finish.

Pride and Prejudice, though I’m meaning to give it a second go later.

43. What distracts you easily when you’re reading?

Everything.

44. Favourite film adaptation of a novel?

None I can think of, all have been disappointments

45. Most disappointing film adaptation?

Jane Eyre, or Harry Potter films, saddens me to see good sub plots wasted

46. The most money I’ve ever spent in the bookstore at one time?

I imagine there was once I time I peaked at £100 but now I won’t spend more than £4

47. How often do you skim a book before reading it?

Never, I just dive in, and hope for the best

48. What would cause you to stop reading a book half-way through?

Failure to connect with the main character, it’d be like walking without the ground.

49. Do you like to keep your books organized?

As I profess a modest library, yes, I do.

50. Do you prefer to keep books or give them away once you’ve read them?

Keep, I know I’ll read them again one day.

51. Are there any books you’ve been avoiding?

No, just ones I don’t have the complete set for, or the much larger ones.

52. Name a book that made you angry.

I don’t think I can name one

53. A book you didn’t expect to like but did?

The book thief, it was a wonderful, get slightly saddening surprise.

54. A book that you expected to like but didn’t?

The lovely bones, by Alice Sebold, it gave out the wrong message entirely, and the end really disappointed.

55. Favourite guilt-free, pleasure reading?

Garfield pocket books all the way!

Villanelle III

2010-09-03T16:39:00.000-07:00

It's been some time since my last post, sorry, creative juices not flowing fast enough for the moment. Writing on my real life experience always produces something much more worthwhile to read in my opinion. So if it is not an assault to your eyes, here you go.

Heartbreak villanelle

I have done it once, twice again,

Split again, shards on the ground

I have broken that heart of mine.

Sealed away for years, the shame

priceless piece of dirt, ground bound

I have done it once, twice again,

Split it in two of course, my pain

Never factored in - all surround

I have broken that heart of mine.

Neither glue nor shoe pressing,

Power, at the pieces it frowned

I have done it once, twice again,

What a let down I am becoming

Dust of it, no longer accomplished

I have broken that heart of mine.

So where am I now? Starting

Again, remembering the pound -

I have done it once, twice again,

I have broken that heart of mine.

Free Verse poem one

2010-08-27T09:23:00.000-07:00

Okay, I admit it, I've been super lazy this month, august is formally my detox month of the stress that the other 11 months drag me to. almost no work has been done, what so ever! However reading though myrestored edition of Sylvia Plath's Ariel. I've had inspiration once more, so here it is, untitled but somthing brief I've jotted down (Like most poems I write when I'm not trying to work:

Breach the seal surrounding my sanctity
Does it terrify?
The hollow shriek of long forgotten feet-
Still hanging by.
Into my passage you, the pilgrim sweeps
His little eye
Over my treasures so divine, tell me,
Do they beautify?

What remains of I? Why I can’t speak
I’ve never known you, for a second
Yet you know all my secrets, thinks I.
You always were so presumptuous.

Digging at my bedside these thirty-nine
Years, and of course six months, oh yes divine.
You never did answer me, when you
Saw my glassy glazed eyes.
Do I horrify?

The importance of being Earnest

2010-08-16T00:26:00.000-07:00

Not just a great play of the 20th century, but also a fact of everyday life. I’ve neglected my duty to entertain you all for the last two weeks for personal, if not selfish reasons, so before I begin I ask you all to forgive me, and of course, hear me out.
I’ve spent the last two weeks in what the armature would refer to s a creative slump. In fact there is no end to the boundless expanses of my imagination, or a cap on my potential talents. Where have I been? My small but loyal, loving audience cry!
I have been doing three things I call back. Firstly I have been resting, it is an essential part of writing, no one can work indefinitely without stopping, and I am no exception. Truthfully ,my body determines by itself when and for how long I work, the brain just comes along for the ride.

Second and third points tie in directly together. I have been should searching. Yeah I know, philosophy nonsense. Well I have a great respect for philosophy, but this wasn’t in that context. Recently I have retaken an old love of mine, martial arts, I’m currently a 5th cup (blue stripe) in Taekwondo, and it remains a deep passion of mine. September 19th is my next grading date to earn my blue belt, what I have aimed forever years of study and training.
In this time I’ve been evaluating ’who I am’ and how I’ve grown to be myself. Dozens of people have made it into my ’role model’ list, bearing in mind, most of them English teachers, but also some friends and even my martial arts instructor have made the cut in my mind, these people have survived life, done what they love and are happy, how can complain I am trying to do the same!

I’ve also determined they are all amazing people for doing this, and that it was hard for them. Also I know for a fact, doing it alone, as I am is even harder; as any writer will tell you.
So in short this month my main point is, though I’m battered, bruised and incomplete in some aspects, with room to grow, improve; and certainly mature. Is that all these people; these wonderful, rough, intelligent, and thousands of other adjectives, and nouns, concrete and abstract, have made me who I am fighting to be and am already a little piece of.

Pretty darn amazing myself. And I know you all are too, just for being honest with yourselves.

Last of the Month

2010-07-31T07:34:00.000-07:00

The end of my first quarter here, and I admit thought little progress sees to have been made. This month I’ve noticed that my efforts have not been in vain. It’s been a blast hearing from fans, old and new.
To recap this month, I’ve gone public with a few scribbled villanelles and some new, overall not too shabby.
My other achievement this month have been few, I’ve kept most public to Plurk, my home of happiness inside…well, my home. The completion of chapter 3 in my one day to be completed novel ‘Quest of the Monsters’ has kept me in the spirit of writing.

Overall my aim in the future is to complete more of my novel and to add more types of poetry here. Thanks all you’ve been inspirational.

De-stressing

2010-07-26T08:09:00.000-07:00

Like everyone else I need to unwind from time to time. Whether it be by cooking, cleaning, exercising or even watching a film, it’s all good. Personally I don’t take days off for myself, obvious enough by my continuous complaints of fatigue and stress. However; today I’m pleased to say,

I took a day off to myself after a three day orgy of writing. Naturally I deserved it for completing another chapter of my novel, which by the way is making slow but sure progress for those interested.

My day off consisted of;
• 6 hours sleep
• 2 Films
• 2 hours of gardening
• Cooking lunch (honey and mustard glazed chicken)
• Cleaning
• And writing this blog post

So it seems I can not just ‘take a day off,’ maybe the rest of a workaholic is to do less demanding work, personally this is the least stressed I’ve been for months, and finally feel happy with the way things are going; a great achievement my closest friends will cry.

So, not to focus on word count; thankfully topping one hundred words, I leave with this thought, 'Today may be a peaceful one in my life, but tomorrow I’ts time to get back to the grind.'

Until next time, don’t forget to unwind.

Villanelle II

2010-07-19T08:46:00.000-07:00

Well, After a short repose it certainly seems I was missed, so here by almost demand, is another villanelle I whipped together

Dawn

Moving on this night full of dread
The clap of our hearts beat as one
Because I can see daylight ahead

Yet now darkness is so all around
We must echo the night-song sung-
Moving on this night full of dread

I see the daylight, almost overhead
We must run, down this long tongue
Because I can see daylight ahead

The moon, she still smiles, half dead
But there, telling me what has rung.
Moving on this night full of dread

Head high, I see pale purples bled
Out of blue, and orange o’er sprung
Because I can see daylight ahead

We should know better than wed
The night, still as though we’re flung
Moving on this night full of dread
Because I can see daylight ahead

Monthly Forum

2010-07-09T12:49:00.000-07:00

Well Forum number three, who knows where it could us. The wonders of Wales to the Ballads of old shakey (Shakespeare), enjoy. I look forward to any and all input.

this month a dedicate the poem 'This Be The Verse' by Philip Larkin' I feel it represnts a lot about me and my life.

They fuck you up, your mum and dad.
They may not mean to, but they do.
They fill you with the faults they had
And add some extra, just for you.

But they were fucked up in their turn
By fools in old-style hats and coats,
Who half the time were soppy-stern
And half at one another's throats.

Man hands on misery to man.
It deepens like a coastal shelf.
Get out as early as you can,
And don't have any kids yourself.

Villanelle I

2010-07-09T12:47:00.000-07:00

This one's a lot less orthadox to the ones I usually write, but I like it nonetheless, hope you do too.

Gemstone Kiss

Your top lip has all the shine
Of the diamond pure pair (As-)
The bottom follows the rhyme

Just all I need clean divine
A look kills the despair. (As-)
The bottom follows the rhyme

All I asked was that it’s mine
But all told to me was ne’er. (As-)
The bottom follows the rhyme

So this night under the line
Of moon, shaming it there (As-)
The bottom follows the rhyme

First touch, I scratch you benign
But fail to see deeper scare (As-)
Your top lip has all the shine
The bottom follows the rhyme

Writer's tips: motivation

2010-07-09T11:53:00.001-07:00

As my family and personal friends know, I’m a big sci-fi fanatic. I adore the old Voyager and star trek series, among many others. However what’s this doing in an article about writer’s tips? Before you ship me off to an institute I will explain, this article involves motivation and inspiration: two key things a writer can not be without.
There are many ways that writers energize themselves to create that liquid gold that fills our pages every day, caffeinated drinks. J.K. Rowling commented that she drank an excess of coffee while writing her award winning Harry Potter collection, and indeed I myself find this to be a good tool too. Journalists through the media are conveyed to drink an unhealthy amount of that dark liquid which a great many writers love.
However there are a million ways to find the energy, apart from staining your teeth and reeking of coffee beans all day. Here are my top 10 tips gathered from experience and deep thought.

High energy music, with extra speed
Coffee, preffered iced cappuccino
Excercise, a martial art coupled with aerobics
Sci-fi or fantasy films/ or of your own interest, prefered with a good script
A healthy appetite for literature

Here are my first five, obviously and wiz will know five more are to follow. First let me explain these five. These five so far are from my own experience, since putting these together I’ve had more energy than ever.
Following on with the list:

10 hours of sleep a night
Minimal amounts of alcohol per week, if not at all
A little progress every day
A tidy room makes for a broadened mind

Plenty of distractions!

The last point sounds odd, how can distractions help you to progress? Simple! To ignore the distractions you must focus harder on the task in hand, meaning the most important thing on your schedule: writing.
If any of this has been helpful let me know, and I hope to share more of my experience with people soon.

About Me part 2

2010-07-07T14:03:00.000-07:00

There’s always a part two, if you didn’t guess, shame on you. No I kid, relax! The inspiration hit me as I remembered the old proverb, ‘Writers are not made, they are born,’ I have to give my honest opinion, forgive the language; BOLLOCKS.
Let me take you all back eleven years, I was aged seven, and a bit; of course. Never wanting to grow old, having fun with my small group of life long friends, as all children do. Being inspired every day just knowing I’d do something amazing when I was ready. However; aged seven in school, I was deemed border line retarded in English. Just think now, a single A level above all in the subject I was deemed less than satisfactory at.
To you and me they were small mistakes that could have been rectified in any child’s mind pretty sharpish. ‘Culd,’ instead of ‘could’ ‘wud,’ instead of ‘would’ in short, how the less adept spell today in order to ‘fit in’. I admit, I was young, and that teaching was still in a rather draconian phase in determining potential or even standards. My speciality then, was the sciences.
Ten years ago this year, I began my training to become a writer, I would love the vanity to say it to be impossible for any old child of eight to do as I did. But it’s not. I was very unremarkable at the time, unsupported and helpless, but I worked hard, at the very least my comprehension of spelling flourished, though that of grammar and punctuation made not change. Thankfully my grasp of grammar was prematurely achieved.
Fuelled by over a hundred television programs and my childhood games on the yard, my imagination was boundless, and still is thanks to my hermit lifestyle, and love of literature of all ages and genres. My skills bloomed in front of a computer screen, the art of plot and character outlining and building formulated in my mind as I puzzled for a few months each year. By the age of 14 astoundingly I had a draft over 100 pages long, and a Bard in the school eisteddfod in the year previously. It had been slow progress in a small pond but I created and shaped myself into the writer I am becoming. All that’s left is the energy to accomplish my greatest task: The novel.
Where am I today? See for yourself! Me, myself and I are astounded by my creations, which lay claim to fantastic tutoring, and patient friends. I hope for more time to amaze whoever stumbles upon me soon, the ideas are budding!

Badge of Honour

2010-06-10T04:57:00.001-07:00

As most Plurkers know already, earning badges is one of the greatest appeals of Plurk, besides the people! So what I wonder is, is there a badge for everyone? The short answer is no.
But first lets consider all the types of badge there are, the creator of a Plurk community site badge, Nirvana badge, ones for profile views and number of invites, for Plurks and responses, and my own personal favourite, the translator badge; the only one I can’t attain!

One fault of Plurk; the little people need more help in contacting the Plurk Gods!

Not that I’m complaining, I’ll save that for my emails, for now I’m still fixated with attaining the one badge I can not get, the server seems to have looked me up and down and shouted, “Next Please” and turned away. Anyway if anyone can get that sorted or maybe recommend me for the badge I think I’m deserving of it.

Are some badges more worthy of working for than others? Depends on your favourite colour, taste in pictures and furthermore, your talents. Plurk has done a wonderful job at giving everyone the chance to earn at least two badges within a day, some encouragement for those lazy men and women everywhere!
In my opinion Plurk could still be improved badge wise by having ranked badges maybe, like military style, for me that would make it more interesting.

Also a badge for having Plurks with a certain number of responses would be shockingly fun, for other plurkers to compare, who knows someone just might make a million.

A final point on badge, which I’m sure everyone who has achieved 100 asks themselves, what next? The 100 Karma badge and smilies are a great bonus, but we want more! Or at least a way of keeping it at that Holy Grail of numbers, time to improve.

Finally a call to those proud bearers of the hacker badge, congrats on the badge, but it’s time to earn your title, get inventing, creating and improving, badges give us our title but we make Plurk our home.

Thank you all!

For Plurk

2010-06-04T11:16:00.000-07:00

Plurk, the thoughts of a veteran Plurker

This is my first blog meant for a Plurk or at least potential Plurker audience. What can I say about my first year and now officially over a half years of being a loyal Plurker myself? Well only that it has been the best parts of my day, every day each time I connect.
This has been the place where I’ve met a variety of people with a multitude of interests; from writing to designing jewellery, computer programming and video shooting. I dare say this has been one character building experience I’d recommend to the world.
Plurk for me is unique in the respect it doesn’t just accommodate the needs of those who don’t speak English, French, Spanish or even mandarin. It encourages the all to join and mingle if they want! Not Facebook, Twitter nor My Yearbook offer such a feat, despite being worldwide.
I am also surprised Plurk has shown no evidence of seeking out celebrity endorsement or even trying to fleece one person out of a penny, which I’m eternally thankful for as I don’t have a penny to my own name.

So perhaps Plurk is the solution to everyone’s problems? No, though as a site where a mélange of cultures collide, peace is well maintained. My own best friend lives half way across the world and is Mexican, something I never envisioned as a child, though have no regrets about now.
I ask myself daily what I would do without Plurk, and my answer every time? Read a book, lie on my bed, everything that suggests my total boredom and search for friendship in the vast world I’d have not fathomed without the genius which is Plurk.
I suppose on a philosophical level, Plurk is its own world, or even a heaven to some, with its own Gods protecting the system, and users. And everyone whether they be white, green, blue, purple, brown, black, have one eye or three, whether they be a sadist or Hindu, catholic or Muslim, in Plurk those differences are shed from us all and we become only a Plurker.

Now, I don’t know about you, but if I were reading this and were not a member of Plurk, I would be signing up before I finished this article. Plurk has provided for me a family or friends; where else can you find that?
Finally I just want to thank Plurk and you all for being there for me, I’ll see you all soon.

Monthly Forum

2010-06-04T06:58:00.001-07:00

After the booming void of last month I'm still determined there will be someone out there who has something to contribute to our shared knowledge, so here it is, Your second forum, Happy discussions.

First of The Month

2010-06-04T06:44:00.000-07:00

June! Welcome to June, the month of birds singing, butterflies dive bombing and most importantly I'm sure you'll all agree; my 18th birthday.

So I thought I'd theme a few blogs this month, in light of me missing work so badly. The theme: food! the prettier and delicious the better.

Take a picture of something you make and post the recipe and the winning dish will be attempted by yours truly on his birthday. It can be traditional, fusion or just something you created yourself, personally I experiment, but my results are fabulous!

To wet the appetite I’ll show you my creations thus far.

Happy cooking, I mean reading.....

see you later

Sonnet VII

2010-05-28T13:37:00.001-07:00

Back by what I'm sure was demand, or at least my imagination of one. I bring my seventh sonnet.
In case any reader is wondering (if there is any reader, for my vanity) there will be other forms of poetry soon, but we all need to practice to become perfect. Soon there will be some verity.

Viper

Bite, into the skin like the snake you are
Not caring for race, religion other
Things are not important you’d just rather
Take a piece of me without any care
For what you drain, blood, life in open air
Like the monster tyrant, deadly wielder
Open your jaw over my slight finger,
And take all that is mine never to share.

Knave, you are no snake not even deadly
But a pain in my side no less, deeper
Marks were given by your double remedy,
Far more scary than thee, in my finger.
Perhaps you are not the snake after all
You are only my own umbrella

Sonnet VI

2010-05-28T13:36:00.002-07:00

Part two of my dunday trip in to creativity, an enjoyable tale to its close with this sonnet number 6. This one more to shakespeare's style. I hope you enjoy:

Refilling the pepper pot

This is a task of enormous measure
The general on the hill looks over
All the men he needs to send down under
In search of his valuable treasure-
Freedom, trapped in a bottle. The closure
He feels, sitting at his table never
Jumping the fence with his comrades, weather
Holding strong, constant downpour disclosure

Of the ranks, as the stock runs low. Fill up
The bottles again, the generals cry
We need more quickly. Fill them to the top
No time to whim, or feel guilt, fill them high.
There cries the martial, all done we can stop-
Just these bodies? We’ll soon use them all up.

Sonnet V

2010-05-28T13:36:00.001-07:00

Somtimes inspiration can be found at the bottom of a bottle...of pepper nonetheless. This is one of two sonnets I felt made my weekend magical, let me know what you think.

Pepper

A small little thing that tickles the nose
Feels nothing compared to this thunder.
Clap. It is not that feather, nor the hinder
But the deadly snap of the falsehood rose
Prettying the plates, and garnishing those
Tight lipped salads who give nothing colder
Than a dry hello or the time. Pepper
Is not like the ice he waits, moves closer

And strikes that poor waiter right in the nose
Such a start that hot little man can make
In said nose. When does he stop? No one knows
But the waiter, who handles him can fake
No sign, but inside screaming, only prose
Helps the waiter survive pepper the snake.

Number Wonder

2010-05-28T13:35:00.002-07:00

Hmm, three the magic number. In china considered lucky, coupled with the colour red (my favourite colour) I’d be set for life.

So what is your lucky number?

What number have you felt a strongest pull towards? We all have one; I just never expected mine to be odd, as I love things to balance.

So why have I had this mammoth of revelations concerning numbers? This pondering of mine hit me as once again I strayed into yet another sleepless night, thinking of my day and life’s great mysteries.

The number, my number is 3. Throughout my life it’s played an essential role and I didn’t notice it, not once. Here is why:

Primary school, in my final year I had three friends, not the closest of chums, but for me it was a start,

It would be three years before I would meet them again by chance, this time we would be reduced to a trio as one left the fold.

In the final phase of secondary education I would be torn between three friendship groups.

During the first three years I would overcome three tyrant bullies.

And of course, Sims 3 is my favourite of the trilogy

Msn, not what one would think of as causing such a deep reflection, but it reflected me perfectly, three favourite friends for so long, a secure feeling it gave me, a tripod of company. Once reduced there is a scrabble to replace the fallen comrade.

The average human is self sufficient, as long as three limbs fully functional, and intact.
A person can live three days without water, and three minutes without air.

My number seems to reflect me very well, I respond to a need, and always have at least one. I do not wish nor want for anything, a strange thing in a teenager.

They say a number reflects us all, what is yours?

Dear Diary

2010-05-28T13:35:00.001-07:00

Ha, dear diary, it’s not something I personally keep, but today I felt, was worthy of note.

Last night

Possibly one of my worst attacks of insomnia in months occurred. I don’t think it’s entirely normal to have the head chef of your work place whispering in your ear as you try to sleep, even when he makes great food. Getting six hours sleep, you can imagine when I finally awoke, baggy eyed and sour faced, people were not as fortunate as the reader is, to escape my wrath.

Today

Fuelled with an awful nights non sleep, coupled with some maths revision and a plateful of guilt for causing misery to my best friend I looked forward with a heavy heart to a four hour gruelling shift. Yes I’m a teenager; we complain a lot, bear with me.

The life of a lowly waiter

Expected guests : 76
Expected stress :10/10

Hungry guests :12
My day :11/10

From the chef teaching to me how to do fancy prep with vegtables, to Drinking coffee while eating chips and my favourate kind of chicken (southern fried if anyone need know) I agree withthe statistics.
The statistics say it all really. The hardest part of my shift was refilling the salt and pepper pots which to be fair, should not be attempted by the faint hearted, or those who can’t handle their pepper.

But this mind bogglingly painful task of pepper sniffing gave me a revelation. So many possibilities opened up to me as my nasal passages felt more than just chilly peppered air flood them. It was inspiration, of no ordinary kind. It was the kind inspired by experience; to me, the best kind.

The future?

Will I write another dear diary? Who knows? Ask more interesting questions like will it snow in the arctic tomorrow, will the polar bears eat well tonight.
All I know for certain is, there are poems to be written and articles in the future, all you have to do is wait for me to draw enough breath to write them.

Article One

2010-05-28T13:23:00.000-07:00

The fall of Icarus, not always thought of as serene. If you have a keen eye, the same applies to all art. For centuries there has been discord over the two simple, yet fundamental arguments; ‘what defines art?’ and ‘what makes good art?’ We all have different opinions; it’s only natural on a topic so varied.

I remember a great writer once telling me this via email; ‘art is only good if it produces an emotional response,’ – Jeff Clark-Meads. Wonderful words of wisdom, ones I took to heart as I began my own career.

It turns out, that creating the perfect piece of art it is not so simple like the perfect gourmet meal; a splash of aesthetic sauce, a dash of intelligence behind your words, and a generous peppering of the perfect craftsmanship. The final ingredient I’ve discovered to my own misfortune many-a-time. It takes a very long time to perfect naturally.

Each of these three elements are mandatory to the perfect art, like a healthy diet, if you keep it balanced you create the perfect life, at least where your health is concerned, so why not do the same for your art?

Backtrack
But again, here I am talking about the perfect art; I’ve jumped the gun again! What justifies itself as art? I could give you a million things that are art or otherwise, that would be a waste of my time and yours.

When conferencing with two very skilled scholars today I discovered ‘art’’ had more connotations than I ever dared dream; and might I add that’s pretty deep! The first gave me wonderful advice that only the truest piece of good advice I would never have thought of, one that will reflect in my future work if I’m lucky.

She told me ‘ Joseph, there are three things that make ‘perfect art’ and art is not art without them’ and she went on to explain the three key ingredients to me, I was so blown away I even had to ask to be explained without the big words, a first I might add.

The second, seasoned by the experience and more knowledge than I could ever contain explained that though these principles are important, art comes in more than just a written form, it is reflected by other forms of art. This I admit confused me for several hours. But finally I deduced that all forms of art, visual, audio even literary rely on one another purely fro existence, the purest symbiotic thing in existence.

A Brief History On second thought, do they exist so harmoniously? Over the centuries particularly during the renascence we see the written word almost eclipsed my visual art, i.e. paintings, drawings, and so forth. If those few veterans of the written word had given in, I’d not be here to express my view now, to them, though long dead, I pledge my thanks.
Shakespeare, where would we be toady without dear Will? The answer; crawling upon the face of the earth barely managing hello, our world leaders only half as smooth in their greased up talks, maybe not all good things come from great men then…
But still it was he who brought back the written word to its height of glory, so powerful were his words, that they are still used and taught today.

Art forms have been in a struggle for power since they were first created, in my opinion as cave drawings. Since then they have been crying out to survive scared to be sniffed out, like each of us without our lives.

Art to Me

Whole heartedly I agree with my lecturers, the three components, Aestheticism, intelligence and craftsmanship are the basic life breath and heartbeat to art.
To apply it to what I know best; poetry:
Blind emotion will never prove It’s fullest effect
• Any art form must be carefully seasoned, i.e. it needs a balance of emotion, intelligence and to be streamlined, much like a car.
• All art, no matter what, is created for a purpose, anyone who says different is full of ----

Though now we talk of applying intelligence, should we turn it in to a maze?

No of course not!

When this though springs up on me, as it has done several times today, I picture a rose, and how I can not for the life of me draw one. It is far too intricate, but it is nonetheless beautiful, which is an unquestionable fact by anyone.
Painting takes layers of paint, not only one and it is complete for the gallery, writing a novel or a poem can take up to 100 redrafts and rewrites, as some people, including myself could tell you.
In the famous words of T.S Elliot – ‘there will be time for a hundred visions and revisions,’ true words, both intelligent and beautiful.

Other Poets That Have Awed Me
Seamus Heaney, of course his recollections of the years and his vivid ideas on many topics show intelligence boldly and elegant craftsmanship.

Sylvia Plath, My favourite poet, and has been for some time now, her works such as ‘Words’, ‘Lady Lazarus’ and ‘Cut’ never pass me by without a moment of wonder.

Emily Dickinson, She was a highly interesting influence to my work, combining all three elements in to a ballad meter, gave her elegance, the intelligence flowed as naturally as her emotion sparking words, which I soaked up with the bread of my soul.

And finally, one I was reacquainted with today, W.H Auden, after many years this bad boy steps in, with The Fall of Icarus, and formed the solid basis of my first article; the poem, though not the only one, based on a picture.
A Quick summary
Finally let me wrap this up, you’ve been a great reader for surviving my long rant, and at the very least I hope you have gained something from all this.

I’ve been writing for over a decade now, and already from writing this I feel a new enrichment that I hope will reflect in my future work, Art is what you make of it, but it is only art if it is perfect. Art is good, if you can incorporate everything, as if it’s a meal you never wish to forget.

So, there it is: art on a plate!

I hope to see you all very soon.

Last Of The Month

2010-05-28T13:07:00.000-07:00

It has certainly been an action packed month here, what about for you?

This blog is really a thank you to whoever has taken the time to read even one of my blogs and a promise that i'll produce as long as I have somthing to say.

In the comming weeks I will be reading 'Writting Poems' by Peter Samson, it looks interesting, highly recommended.

Untill then what to leave you with, hmmmmm.

List of poems to research:

Sylvia Plath
Mad Girl's Love Song
Tulips
Cut
The Applicant

Emily Dickinson
various poems between 200 - 500

Philip Larkin'

recommend me some!

Seamus Heaney
Personal Heliocon
Mid Term Break
The Early Purges

Christina Rosseti
various poems

Enjoy your list, Next month I promsie there will be new and more wonderful things, in the periphery feel free to leave commetns and request somthing, I'm always happy to provide.

Monthly Forum

2010-05-28T12:59:00.000-07:00

This by good recommendation will be posted every month for everyone to have their own say on poetry. It would be rude of me to jabber on about myself, despite being about to talk the hind legs off a donkey.

Here you are free to post your thoughts on poetry in general, the name and author of a poem you particularly enjoy or even request things from me! It’s all up to you.

So, what are you waiting for? Get posting.

Honest Scrap

2010-05-28T12:44:00.000-07:00

Ok wow. Simply starting a new blog and being warmly welcomed wasn’t enough for you all; you had to give me an award. In short, I’m honoured and gladly accept, Thank you Amle and Astrid Paramita I’m always going to be in awe of you both and will follow your lead for a long époque to come I hope.

So as my first award, there was a lot of confusion in accepting this, I’ve never excelled in computers, I just fix the buggers. I also hear I need to make ten he-hem ‘confessions’ though they are described as ten random facts, butter it up however you please.

Let’s see what I can come up with…….

I will occasionally listen to Baby got back – Mack Daddy (household favourite) despite not having a huge preference to the size of behind in question.

I find spelling difficult; I always have for some unknown reason.

I’m still fascinated by ‘real writers,’ whose ranks I one day hope to join.

I write better when talking to people, which I discovered when working on my novel.

I’m writing a novel, hard to believe, but for now it’s on hold for poetry.

Whenever a good or dark idea comes over me involved with writing I twitch (It’s not always stress) and with a good idea the twitch usually disappears once the idea is either complete or forgotten.

When typing, I either have the issue of typing some works backwards or not being able to hit double letters.

I can’t punctuate properly!

I become attached to people too much, though I seem to have made only 2 lifelong friends who I hope to never lose, by that I mean NEVER. But I’m sure more are developing as I write this, so don’t feel discounted, I know who you are!

I’m addicted to emoticons, msn is a bad habit but it’s the only place in the world have friends.

I’m so limited for people to recommend, otherwise there would be a million other people. But still the two mentioned above have proven their salt as veteran writers, one day, I too will join them; I hope…

First Poem Sonnet IV

2010-05-28T12:43:00.000-07:00

By Request, for having such loyal friends and hopefully a fan or two, I have produced my fourth sonnet for you all to see. I found it particularly difficult to write especially once I hit the volta, but it was worth it in my opinion.
For Edith, who simply hid her ability to draw, which in my opinion comes second to none.

Sleeping Talents

Can I be blamed for the magic’s passing?
And the dying of my light? If all my
Talent washes away, will I still fly?
The stroke of my pencil erased, wearing
At me with hungry eyes, my hopes tearing.
It bled away in the dead of night, say
My dreams and her accomplice, the day.
The moon tells different, she is saying

It’s not stolen, you just packed it safe dear,
Your dreams have fooled you, the day has lied.
You’ve lost nothing this night not the power
To smile, or bring it to others, the creed
Of we artists of the night to rear
Our heads and smile upon all we made.

I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I did writing it.

Hello Everyone!

2010-05-28T12:31:00.000-07:00

So, this is my first blog here. It's not what you would call my 'first leap' in to blogging, and certainly not my last. Here I hope to promote some poetry, share a few thoughts with you all and who knows what else? So let's start with a little about me, see where we progress:

An Aside about Me

Not exactly interesting to most of you, I know, but we all have to take our 'first steps' somewhere, I choose mine here.
I've always been a firm lover of poetry, impressing my teachers at the age of 8 writing what resembled a child’s version of a sonnet seemed to spark off my love or the art form.

What makes good art? I'll come to that another day...

It's taken over ten years to progress to where I am today; amature with big dreams. For the interval of those ten long years I tried to make it as a novel writer, I will go back to that one day, once I've learned the trade of poetry.

Taking this forwards from the age of eight; now thirteen, poetry played its second hint of its lust for my hand; the school Eisteddfod (for those of you non welsh readers it's a huge competition over a multitude of events to find out who is really 'the best of the best'.) After my loss in the year six Eisteddfod, I had decided I was not up to the illustrious role of the poet; however, I played the game once more. Just to clarify this competition was between around 800 students from ages 11 -16 in theory, I stood no chance. But tell that to my bards chair sitting downstairs, one of the happiest moments of my life, certainly the proudest.

You see, I don't endorse competitions, or traditions, but being true to my heritage, no matter where I roam I will always feel hiraeth - longing for that one part of my heritage, where if I ever gain the confidence to enter, the Eisteddfod.

Sentiments aside, we swiftly move on; hopefully you're still awake!

One year ago, my thirst, or the thirst of Athena decided it needed quenching. I began to write again.

I admit with my hands in the air, with very little prior knowledge of poetry it was a struggle, especially as I had no idea where to turn or how to improve. Nevertheless, if you're worthy, the opportunity finds you. It came in the form of My English teacher, whom I'll not name; I fondly nickname her to myself, the angel of death, for her wonderful, if not slightly overenthusiastic lessons on Sylvia Plath. Still this title which I bestow upon her (in my mind only) is not malicious, to me it is affectionate, and it reflects her outwards appearance with the dark nature she caresses. Over all, she is a wonderful teacher and an inspiration, and is officially one of the best teachers I've been privileged with.

Let’s finish with my official teacher of poetry, once again female, and maybe one day I will disclose her Identity to you all, though never her contact details (sorry, too much professional respect). This saint of teachers in my opinion has earned the right to whatever she asks of me or any other poet to produce, knowing poetry inside out and backwards and donating her knowledge and influence in to my work. I will always be incepted to her.

For now I will leave this as brief, there will be more in future I hope, if people choose to continue reading. And remember, I'm here for you all.

Thanks!