Child Prodigies

This might be one of the most 'angsty' bits of poetry I've ever done. An interesting character exercise, though not my cup of tea. Anyway, this is a poem about a child prodigy who isn't understood, who wants friendship and a normal life.

I've been called a genius
A prodigy
I've stood alone
With all my endeavours
There were no fields I didn't conquer
No tasks I couldn't do
Except for one thing,
The only thing that mattered,
The battle for friendship

Taken from places of learning,
Plucked from them before my time,
My school life can be told
In only a few minutes
All because my intellect eclipsed
The exercises they had to offer
I was uprooted like a tree
Even as I introduced myself,
I knew that I would never know
A single classmate that I saw
All those faces, with all those emotions,
Were just strangers, blank dolls,
A society I would never get the chance to study

Nobody knows
To them, I'm just a sideshow
A freak for them to marvel at
The child who has the world in his hands
I hate this loneliness and wish it would end
Isn't there someone who can understand?
I don't want to solve quantum physics
I want a normal life that kids have
Leisure, laughter, and camaraderie
With people who will accept me
Not because I'm famous or smart
But because of who I am

This poem doesn't rhyme
I don't care
I'm a troubled, tormented genius
I can write however I like

A Postcard

So we got this assignment to think about what would be written on this postcard of a black and white picture of people dancing. Interesting enough. And we're supposed to express it in a poem. The situation I had in mind was that an uncle is sending it to me from overseas.

My dear nephews, I send this card,
For parting ways is always hard;
We miss the times we got together,
As a family that we always remember.

When we gathered, we had such fun,
Laughing and singing with everyone;
By and by, it's fun in the west,
But our family back home is always the best.

When we return, we shall unite,
To everybody's sheer delight;
God bless you all in what you do,
We'll always pray for you too.

The Last Tree

Well, another day, another post. It's an interesting exercise, to be sure, but I wonder whether anyone has trouble handling this, their work, AND their social obligations...
Also, I had a hell of a time getting this posted. Just as I was almost finished and ready to post, the whole system CRASHED and wiped out my entry before I could publish it.

The Last Tree

I remember when this place was full and green. It wasn’t as vibrant as the elders remembered, but it was all I knew.

The skies were quiet and grey, with clouds drifting through them lazily. The sounds of the birds and the beasts could only be heard faintly. In the two decades that I existed, not once did I see a squirrel or a sparrow come anywhere near the centre of the woods.

Our people were firm, but we grew weak. The soil we depended on was poisoned, filled with an impure presence. Finding food and water was an increasingly difficult task. The elders remembered a time when it was not so…when we were a vast family, and the world seemed so much more alive.

All my life, I had a view which was green. I only saw the slightest bits of the outside world through the branches of my brethren at the edge of our group. I also saw whenever they fell. Their bodies were dragged away.

With time, I realised what was causing it. They were creatures that summoned smoke which choked the sky and made noises which shook the earth. They had iron monsters and blades which tore through our bodies as if we were made of air.

One by one, we fell, singly or in groups. The green surrounding me was lessening, and I could see the wasteland of the world. Eventually, they reached the centre. That was when they took my last cousins and me.

I was the last to go. I saw them cut through our bodies with their blades. Before long, I was the last one left, with only minutes of life left in me.

I saw the stumps and the remains of my people. I saw the blackened sky and the broken earth. And the world was harsh…it was cold and metallic now. There was no longer any true life or colour.

I remember when this place was full and green. Now it is empty and colourless. That is how it is. That is how it will be.

Here's another assignment I've got. It's meant to convey a sense of being trapped without using any emotions to say so. I wrote it as a monologue.

Trapped
The luxurious room might as well have been a dungeon. Plush animals stared into oblivion with dead, empty eyes, witnessing events like an unwanted audience. In addition to bars on the windows, drawn curtains further shut us out from the outside world.

Everything else in the room, however rich and pretty, only served to fill it up. Paintings (or at least the ones with eyes) glowered at us from the wall, a small bed might as well have been a pile of straw, and the walls...the walls seemed to be closing in.

My master marched in with his captive, the princess, a pink-clad prison sentence. I ignored their discussion until I was ordered to stand guard. Although I stood on the other side of the bars, I couldn't help but notice their cold, unforgiving steel, immovable as the mountains, red as blood.

Winding stairs were right in front of me, climbing downwards to halls, rooms, and anywhere besides here.

And yet, I could not climb down them, as I was ordered to remain. I realised now that I was caught between the bars and the stairs, a few feet from an exit out of this prison, yet could do nothing. The space I had was even more cramped than the larger dungeon, and far more drab. Cold stones were stacked up, one after another, climbing over me as impassable walls.

I looked at the princess, and her flowing dress now seemed to look like a lock, the barricade of my existence, along with the sash tied around her waist. Her dark blue eyes seemed like an unforgiving ocean, defiant.

One look at her and I knew she'd never give in to the master. She said something doubtlessly inspirational, but at this point, it sounded more like jail doors slamming shut.

My Favourite Character

My Favourite Character

My favourite character in literature would have to be King Arthur, as written by T.H. White in The Once and Future King.

It is true that King Arthur has been reinvented and reimagined any number of times, often in negative ways to fit 'modern' ideas of 'relative morality'. Therefore, I am always glad to see a case of characters who do not rely on tearing others down in order to become good.

The mythology behind the character (such as finding the sword, being king, and the fall of his kingdom) remains mostly the same, but the author adds a number of touches that makes the character very likable.

King Arthur is depicted with a constant sense of nobility. It is idealistic in his youth and matures as he grows older, and he has a natural love for his fellow man. Even when dark times fall upon his kingdom, he resolutely pursues his ideals and holds them up.

There is also a sort of tragic dignity in his efforts to rid the world of war and cruelty by trying to make a kingdom of goodness, as there is also a sense of futility in his quest. Even though he fails in the end, King Arthur remains a dutiful thinker trying to work his way to a solution.

He is a character who gets things done in order to achieve good, and was responsible for altering a number of traditions to bring about chivalry in the book. In his relations, he is always generous and just, but fair as well, growing from his competitive days as a boy. There is also a certain steely willpower, as in the early stages of his career, he has to resort to proper violence to break the unlawful lords of the land in order to rebuild the kingdom.

King Arthur, in summary, is a genuinely good and faithful character who suffers from indecision and being unable to solve the long term problems of his life, though some of his tragedies stem from external influences. There is likable morality as well as tragic nobility in his actions and his efforts. That is why I consider him to be my favourite character.

Thoughts of a Bully Chef

This is a bit of homework we're required to do for creative writing: Write a monologue about a character that was listed. Personally, I decided to go with a bully who happens to be a great chef as well...Keep in mind that I am purposefully using incorrect grammar and certain idiosyncratic words like 'youse', but I'm sure you already know that.

The Thoughts of a Bully Chef
Yeah, that's right, I'm a chef. Youse got anythin' to say about it? No? Didn't think so, you snot nosed punks...I mean, who's you to judge me, amiright? I work hard, I learn hard in the kitchen, I earn my keep...who's complainin'?

It's kinda the sorta story ya'd find in the news, y'know, all those sad saps and inspirin' stories...They freakin' make me wanna puke. Real life ain't all happy endings. If my life'd been anythin' like them pansies, with their dancing, and their singing, I'd be servin' the freakin' Queen of England! But is anybody gonna invite some big, dumb lookin' gorilla to an interview? Naw, those snobs, theyse goin' for all those cutesy innocent types. It's like one of them Disney movies, eh, Beauty and the Hunchback? I forget.

Buuut maybe I'm takin' it too hard. Not like I need those palookas, right? Guess I got it made. Heck, sure, my school and home life could use some improvin'. Ma's always tellin' me 'get yer act tagether, make somethin' of yerself', but that's old news. Teachers keep tellin' me the same freakin' thing, but so what? Why'd I want anythin' ta change? Crummy folks, think they know everythin'...

I'm top dog at school, and nobody's forgettin' that. About the only place I get some damn respect...until I'm head chef in a few years, of course, then I'm outta this dump. Yeah, the restaurant folk, they treat me alright. I'm just another employee to 'em, and I like it fine.
End

That's it. I hope it was an entertaining read, at the least. It's around 250 words, so I hope it's good enough for homework, and entertaining enough to read and get you thinking.

My Favourite Author

This week's topic: Our favourite author.

Truth be told, with modern literature looking less and less attractive to me, and with some strategies and conventions looking more similar to one another with each book, I haven't really kept up with who's who and what's what. I just read whatever fits my tastes and interests, or whatever is recommended from trusted friends.

Still, I certainly do remember one author very fondly. His name is T.H. White, and he wrote The Once and Future King, which was essentially a very insightful story about both Arthurian legend and the human condition. It's very thought-provoking and Mr. White does a fabulous job of writing his characters and putting his philosophies down on paper.

Mr. White's most famous work might best be remembered for its weighty issues and deep insight, but he was also capable of good humour as well, as seen in the earlier story in the series 'The Sword in the Stone'. Seeing as angst and melodrama (meaning, the art of making your characters suffer far more than you have a right to put them through) are styles which I have never supported, Mr. White's exceptionally well-rounded set of skills have certainly been marked in my mind as one of my favourite authors to read about.