Wednesday 1 May 2013

Poetry.. 'Thick clouds covering the sun,'.


poetry |ˈpōətrē, ˈpōitrē|
noun
literary work in which special intensity is given to the expression of feelings and ideas by the use of distinctive style and rhythm; poems collectively or as a genre of literature: he is chiefly famous for his love poetry.

I don't think I have actually learnt poetry in depth before but of course, I've read some since my childhood. Poetry is a great part of the english language and therefore I do recall reading poems several times. And I do feel like I am quite familiar to it, but also pretty strange and unexplored.

Like I am on the top of the mountain, so close to the sun, but there are thick clouds delicately covering it. 

When I think of the word Poetry, what comes to my mind:
1. Shakespeare
2. Romeo and Juliet (yes, Shakespeare takes up 2!)
3. Metaphors, Similes, Personification
4. Rhythm
5. English

I can actually think of nothing when I try to brainstorm but I know, in the back of my head, something is there.

The sun peaks out of the clouds as a tiny ray of light shines through.

So far, with my pathetic amount of knowledge, what I like about poetry:
1. I love how you can meddle around with words and just make it all odd, and it would still be considered poetic and all artsy.
2. It really offers no limits. As mentioned above, both in the writing/english language process itself, but also, emotionally and imaginatively. I feel like people are much less judgmental about poetry than other types of writing (though I do not understand why) and that is probably why there are so many types and topics it covers.

What I do not like:
1. Because there are no limits, sometimes I feel that people write poetry really just for themselves, about something that honestly, only they would understand, something personal, and then expects you to read it. Maybe it is because I haven't fallen into the 'art of analysis' yet but I find these kinds of tasks slightly boring. This does not mean that you should always write poetry for your reader. I disagree with the video that we watched in class. I think that writing can also be an escape for you. When you're sad, happy, lonely, excited, some people just write. And I think poetry is a great form of writing for these purposes, it's just that I'm not sure if it would be as exciting to read as the person who wrote it.

And I definitely think the above section will be much more filled up after this unit of English and I'm very excited for it!

(Are lyrics considered poetry?)

Unwritten - Natasha Bedingfield

I am unwritten, can't read my mind, I'm undefined
I'm just beginning, the pen's in my hand, ending unplanned

Staring at the blank page before you
Open up the dirty window
Let the sun illuminate the words that you could not find

Reaching for something in the distance
So close you can almost taste it
Release your inhibitions
Feel the rain on your skin
No one else can feel it for you
Only you can let it in
No one else, no one else
Can speak the words on your lips
Drench yourself in words unspoken
Live your life with arms wide open
Today is where your book begins
The rest is still unwritten

Oh, oh, oh

I break tradition, sometimes my tries, are outside the lines
We've been conditioned to not make mistakes, but I can't live that way

Staring at the blank page before you
Open up the dirty window
Let the sun illuminate the words that you could not find

Reaching for something in the distance
So close you can almost taste it
Release your inhibitions
Feel the rain on your skin
No one else can feel it for you
Only you can let it in
No one else, no one else
Can speak the words on your lips
Drench yourself in words unspoken
Live your life with arms wide open
Today is where your book begins

Feel the rain on your skin
No one else can feel it for you
Only you can let it in
No one else, no one else
Can speak the words on your lips
Drench yourself in words unspoken
Live your life with arms wide open
Today is where your book begins
The rest is still unwritten

Staring at the blank page before you
Open up the dirty window
Let the sun illuminate the words that you could not find

Reaching for something in the distance
So close you can almost taste it
Release your inhibitions
Feel the rain on your skin
No one else can feel it for you
Only you can let it in
No one else, no one else
Can speak the words on your lips
Drench yourself in words unspoken
Live your life with arms wide open
Today is where your book begins

Feel the rain on your skin
No one else can feel it for you
Only you can let it in
No one else, no one else
Can speak the words on your lips
Drench yourself in words unspoken
Live your life with arms wide open
Today is where your book begins
The rest is still unwritten
The rest is still unwritten
The rest is still unwritten



Natasha Bedingfield wrote this song for her brother. Her brother was the inspiration for these beautiful lyrics and if you think about it, you will realize that all writing is inspired by something. Nobody will randomly start writing, there is always an inspiration, a motivation behind it. And that is what I think the poetic nature of life is. Past experiences, present feelings and future thoughts are like the bricks of a building and words I feel, are like the glue, keeping all the bricks together. Yes, words are important, without strong and rich glue, the building cannot possibly hold in a sturdy manner. But, sturdy or not, a building cannot exist without bricks. And these bricks all come from parts of our lives, like small puzzle pieces.

Can't wait for this unit! Time to let go of factual research and get into creative writing :)