Archive for January, 2010

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Darkness

January 31, 2010

https://beatrizartjournal.wordpress.com/2010/02/09/about-keats-negative-capabilities/

I moved this entry to the above link.

Over there, now it has a couple of  intro paragraphs talking about Keats’ Negative Capabilities which was the part of the assigned reading that I liked the most.

if you scroll down (once you click on the above link) you will find “el escrito” (the writing).

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Working with Quotations Marks

January 28, 2010

Exercise:2 characters should confront a third about an action they believe he/she has taken that has caused some kind of damage. Write the scene using the 3rd character as the narrator.  Please attempt to use the conventions of dialogue (use quotations, paragraph, etc.)

Eve

“It is not my fault,” I kept saying to myself. The thoughts were rushing through my mind, while my soul experienced a pain I never thought I could bear.

“I cannot be responsible for such a terrible outcome nor can I deal with the consequences of my error.”

The more I retrace the events, the more I’m convinced that there must be something I can do to change everything to how it was before.”

“Give it up!” said the serpent.

“You are responsible; it is the truth.”

“It is written in The Book. You can’t rebuke that!” His tone was full of conceit and sarcasm.

I started shaking vigorously. “But you tricked me!” I muttered. Then, slowly,  the words  spilled out  in an  uncontrollable lament. “The truth, most has been lost in translation some way along the line. The long, line of scribes involved in the recount of my story”.

“I can’t carry this blame, this responsibility on my shoulders forever”. I shouted looking into the infinite. Suddenly, the clouds opened and I heard a voice coming from above:

“Don’t trouble yourself, my child.”

I kept my gaze elevated towards the sky. “Lord?” My voice was weak and frightened. The day was warm and the soft breeze that passed through my hair, started to intensify. The wind filled me with a new sense of peace that calmed me down and make me crave even more, to be back at the garden, with him.

“Eve”. The voice from above penetrated my ears and made all the cells on my body vibrate at a faster rate.

“You have made your choice.”

I didn’t need to speak anymore; he knew what I was thinking. His words although serene and warm, enclosed a final sentence. I felt utterly alone, carrying the consequences of the choice I had made. Before I have listened to the snake, life was simple and peaceful. There was no void inside of me. Tasting the knowledge of good and evil had been a rushed, uninformed decision. As I painfully have found out, an irreversible one.

My soul ached because “I knew”. Now, I knew. The veil had come out of my eyes and I could see all the Evil that surrounded me. I could see myself with all my weaknesses. I also saw the immensity of my ignorance, about the world around me. The world I have been thrown into, all of the sudden. That, sadly, was the only thing I knew for sure. That from now own, life was not going to be sheltered and that I would have to learn how to survive.

“Oh, please!” said the snake.

“Do you want humanity to feel sssssssssssorry for you?” His voice continued to be scornful. He kept talking fast, and his comments were hitting like daggers on my brain.

“Poor Eve; She was tricked” “Why don’t you give up, once and for all?”

“You won’t make it in this world, you know?” His voice had suddenly turned soft and persuasive.

“I can help you end your agony; why do you want to keep suffering?”

“A word of advice” He continued talking and his words pounded into my brain with the same strength as the contractions I was beginning to feel on my lower abdomen.

“Don’t bring more poor souls into this world to suffer your same destiny.” “End it now.”

“You will be making the poor bastards a favor.” “Do you really think they will be able to resist me?”

“They will follow my advice, just as you did”

A sudden blow directed to the snake’s neck severed its head. I lifted my face to see Adam’s deep gaze upon me. He seemed as confused and vulnerable as I felt.

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Of Moths & Butterflies (working with rhythm & rhymes)

January 18, 2010

workingBea.org

Click on the image to learn about this myth


Ancient  tales,

re-tell the myths

of brave young males,

and their rebirths.

Of warriors’ dreams,

that gently slide,

from the  wings

of butterflies.

Ethereal realms,

they will abide

once their soul dwells

in lullabies.

But if by chance,

a moth instead

comes meet their mortal dance,

a dreadful fate,

their souls in trance

face in advance.

So, hear this day,

and be prepared,

in case a moth,

flutters your way.

Don’t be afraid,

to let it stay,

its soul you’ll aid

to ease from pain.

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Micro Fiction

January 9, 2010

MicroFiction (161 words)

Three Generations

They shared more than their DNA.  

These three generations of women, were living a life that wasn’t supposed to be theirs, but their husbands’.

The three of them, married very young.

The three of them married men much older than they were.

Men that thought knew better than their wives the what’s, where’s , how’s and for how long’s  of  life.

Their wives’ lives were a gift from “God” to serve them and comfort them.

No questions asked. No complains allowed.

Unfortunately for them, their wives had other plans.

The three women rebelled.

Each on them, on their own distinctive way.

Each of them according to the whims of the era they lived on.

One by one, they paid the price.

The toll was high; it involved messing with everybody’s stability.

After all, weren’t all parties involved, casualties from war, one way or another?

POW’s of their own desires of power and liberty.

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Pattern Poem Exercise

January 9, 2010

 

Pattern Poem Exercise

Imitate the following poem by George Ella Lyon by rewriting it, keeping the pattern of organization, but substituting your own details of place object nature food human elements. CLICK ON THE ILLUSTRATIONS TO SEE A LARGER IMAGE.

My Version of it is below Ella Lyon’s version or click twice on the image above:

Where I’m From ( George Ella Lyon’s version)

I am from clothespins,
from Clorox and carbon-tetrachloride.
I am from the dirt under the back porch.
(Black, glistening,
it tasted like beets.)
I am from the forsythia bush
the Dutch elm
whose long-gone limbs I remember
as if they were my own.

I’m from fudge and eyeglasses,
from Imogene and Alafair.
I’m from the know-it-alls
and the pass-it-ons,
from Perk up! and Pipe down!
I’m from He restoreth my soul
with a cottonball lamb
and ten verses I can say myself.

I’m from Artemus and Billie’s Branch,
fried corn and strong coffee.
From the finger my grandfather lost
to the auger,
the eye my father shut to keep his sight.

Under my bed was a dress box
spilling old pictures,
a sift of lost faces
to drift beneath my dreams.
I am from those moments–
snapped before I budded —
leaf-fall from the family tree.

Where I’m From (My Version )

I am from fairy tales,
from wishing stars and magic wands.

I am from the enchanted woods under the thundering cloud.
(Black, glistening, it tasted like licorice.)

I am from the waterfalls
the singing streams
whose long-gone waters I remember
as if they were my own.

I’m from cookies and teapots,
from Tinker and Bella.
I’m from the Silly-Willies
and the goofy-ones,
from hands up! and hands down!
I’m from be thou with me through the day
with a golden book
and ten prayers I can say myself.

I’m from Neverland and Lilliput ,
candy cone and strong Chamomille.
From the wings my guardian angel lost
to the magnifying glass,
the heart my inner-child shut to keep his sight.

Under my pillow was a silky sack
spilling old photos,
a sift of lost places
to drift beneath my past.
I am from those memories–
snapped before I flowered —
whitering from the family branch.

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How to make a poem or Lyric essay (Ari’s exercice)

January 7, 2010

ok I did some of the exercises on Ari’s Workshop and the poem on the previous post ended up growing to be part of the following exercise:

How to make a poem or lyric essay 

Preparation:

Step 1:  Take out sheet of paper.  Close your eyes and listen deeply for several minutes.  Then quickly right an account of what your heard.  Use concrete language for what you actually heard while listening deeply.  Don’t try to be figurative.   Keep this account separate and on its own sheet of paper.

 Step 2: Take out another sheet of paper.  Think of a remembered smell that has a strong association for you.  Write down the smell and the association.  Do not use the word “remember.”  Keep this account separate and on its own sheet of paper.

 Step 3: Take out another sheet of paper.  Think of a remembered taste that has a strong association for you.  Write down the taste and the association.  Don’t use the word “remember.” Keep this account separate and on its own sheet of paper.

Step 4:  Take out a 4th sheet of paper.  Remember a time you were physically hurt or in pain.  Don’t say what it was or what caused it.  Don’t name a body part.  Just say what it was like. Keep this account separate and on its own sheet of paper.

Step 5:  On a 5th sheet of  paper, make a list of things you don’t remember.  Begin each with “I don’t remember.”  For instance, I don’t remember the sound of my grandfather’s voice; I don’t remember what it was like before I could talk, etc.” Tear the sheet of into scraps, each with one line of “I don’t remember on it.”   This will result in many slivers of paper.

Composition:

  Put the pieces of paper into an order.  Either consciously compose them into an order or, perhaps better, put them in a box and have someone pull them out as they come.  Read what you get.  When you find the most pleasing combination, keep it and write it down as a single work.  You may write it in sentences/paragraphs or in lines/verses.  Or, you can combine the two.  The choice is yours. 

Don’t forget to title it.

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My First Art Journal Pages

January 5, 2010
This blog’s entry hardly counts for a real entry. I’m basically uploading the doodles & smudges I’m so happily and dutyfully smearing. So…hopefuly,  in time, (surely after  lots & lots of mediocre attempts) I’ll will get little pieces and bits here and there and find a way to tell a story. Not necessarily my story but simply a story.
Or so I think…or hope, or whatever…

Playing with colored lines...

Having Fun !

New Years Eve Resolutions

Trying out different media and materials

Letting go of expectations….

 

Just playing with pastels & watercolors