Sharing My Poetry

The poem I've written is titled: "Midnight Thoughts".

To share my poem with other people, I tried two different methods.

For the first method, I made a poster and encouraged readers to put on stickers to signify that they've read my poem.

I decided to make my way to Kerrisdale to display "Midnight Thoughts".

Along the way, I met my first reader.

In Kerrisdale:

 
 

What I found was that almost all of the people who bothered to stop by and read were old women. Young people just walked past without a glance, and old men looked for a little bit and walked past.

Going back home. I didn't get the views that I wanted and resorted to asking others passengers in the bus to read and put stickers.



After Kerrisdale, I asked the manager at my apartment building for permission to display my poster on the resident's message board for 3 days.



Other places I tried:
1. Oakridge mall - the security told me that I was not allowed to display anything in the mall and forced me to take it down..
2. Vancouver Public Library - The manager was not available, and there were security issues with taking pictures.





For the second method, I created a simple, silent video using pictures that I drew and putting captions. Enjoy.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cITtanR1hPY&feature=youtu.be

Midnight Thoughts

In the wake of a solemn tranquility

My mind finds no stability.

Though I must rest in a hurry

It is during these nights that I start to worry.

“I forgot to give Suzy her money back.”

“I wonder if he’s still mad at me, that Jack.”

“What will happen next week?”

From trivial thoughts, bigger ones bespeak.

“Why do I always manage to blunder?”

“From all these misfortunes will I ever sunder?”

“Today I made the same mistake as yesterday, though I try.”

“Why does it always have to be this way?” I cry.

“Of the billions of souls that pass,

Am I nothing but an insignificant part of the mass?”

“What if I’ve done this?”

“I should have done this.”

An amalgam of thoughts is bombarding my head

Like missiles and bombs until I get up from my bed.

Then silence.

As I stare into that dark-blue night,

I somehow find comfort in the stars alight.

As I fall into a state of sleep,

I know that tomorrow night will repeat

The same midnight thoughts.

Poetry

Lines, stanzas, verses, meter

Are all terms used in poetry.

Some may say that poetry

Is an alternative type of writing.

But poetry is much more than that.

Poetry is an art.

An art sometimes with rules,

And sometimes without rules.

It is a way to paint a picture

Using words.

From the Shore to the Sea Beyond

Found poem source:

Golding, William. Lord of the Flies. London: Faber and Faber, 1954. 1-22. Print.

From the Shore to the Sea Beyond

The air was thick with butterflies, lifting, fluttering, settling.

Little breezes crept over polished waters beneath a haze of heat.

When these breezes reached a platform palm-fronds would whisper,

So that spots of blurred sunlight moved like bright, winged things in the shade.

The beach between the palm terrace and the water

Was a thin bow-stave, endless.

Some act of God had banked sand inside a lagoon

So that there was a long, deep pool in the beach

So deep at one end as to be dark green.

It was clear to the bottom and bright

With the efflorescence of tropical weed and coral.

A school of tiny, glittering fish flicked hither and thither

The ground was covered with coarse grass,

Torn everywhere by the upheavals of fallen trees,

Scattered with decaying coconuts and palm saplings.

Young palm trees fell and dried, forming a criss-cross pattern of trunks.

The palms that still stood made a green roof,

Covered on the underside with a quivering tangle of reflections from the lagoon

The shore was fledged with palm trees

That reclined against the light

And their green feathers were a hundred feet up in the air.

Out there, perhaps a mile away,

The white surf flinked on a coral reef,

And beyond that the open sea was dark blue.

The Girl Who Loved Red (Warning: May be a bit disturbing)

Cindy loved red

She owned a red coat, a pair of red shoes, and a red bed

Her yellow rubber duck

Even her brother's hockey puck

Cindy painted them red

She was that much obsessed

One day Cindy was playing in a garden

When she noticed a flash of red, partially hidden

Curious, she ran towards the scarlet

Found a bramble of roses smelling sweeter than chocolate

Cindy held a flower between her little fingers to see

And admired the beauty closely

She unwittingly prickled her thumb

As the thumb started to go numb

Cindy saw an even more mesmerizing red

That oozed out slowly as she bled

Desiring more, she plunged her arm into the thorns

She watched her skin being torn

Yet felt joy at the sight of all the beautiful red

Nothing else went through Cindy's head

Cindy's mother came out of the door

Shocked to see all the gore

As she treated Cindy back home, the mother said

"What were you doing, Cindy? Your arm is almost shred!"

Cindy exclaimed, "Mommy, red came out of my arm!"

"That happens to everyone, Cindy, and it causes much harm."

"Really? Red can come out of anyone?"

That night a scream was heard and the cops showed up, armed with a gun

They busted the door open and proceeded to the bedroom ahead

To their surprise, there was a little girl smiling and drenched with red

Self-Analysis: Physical or Sedentary?

What I hate most about going to school is having to leave the pleasant vicinity of my home and walk for 15 minutes. The same goes for hanging out with my friends. When I make plans to go out and watch a movie, I feel excited, but at the same time I feel terrified that I must first overcome the arduous journey to the theatre. If I had to choose between the life of a millionaire athlete and a mediocre artist, I would choose the millionaire athlete. However, if the choice was between a mediocre athlete and a mediocre artist, I would choose the latter. All this goes to show that I am a sedentary person.

I may be a sedentary person, but I also care about my physical well-being, so I do try to keep a balanced diet and try my absolute best to do brief stretching exercises every morning and evening. Also, being sedentary doesn't mean that I am overweight and have social anxiety. I am well above average in physical fitness, and I like to meet and socialize with new people. The most difficult part about taking part in an activity is getting started. I find it difficult to get my heart to start pumping. However, there are times when I think, I'm so glad I chose not to sit in front of the computer and rot away on my chair. Occasionally, I actually feel like getting active and call my friends to exercise together.

I am without a doubt a sedentary person. Nonetheless, I have a desire to become active and strive to become an active individual. In conclusion, I may be sedentary, but I am physical at heart.