Ghost Story - Jason

On the writing

The assignment this week has been one of my favorites so far.  To write a Ghost Story in the style of Poe is just perfect and at every poem I looked at I was reminded about how much I like his poetry.  In the end I went back to one of my favorites, Conqueror Worm, which has this great kind of informal, but rhythmic ABABCBCB stanzas.  I hope you enjoy.

Unsettled

Awake and hear the quiet creak.

Footsteps or wind you hear.

Night has made your heart grow weak.

You feel the presence near.

You dare not move until you know,

Which way your thoughts to steer.

You must be free!  you must let go!

You can't give into fear.

So, you lift your body from the bed,

And reach out for the light.

You feel that sudden sense of dread,

It can't repel the night.

The shadows grasp your grasping hand.

The pull you can not fight.

Quickly to your feet you stand.

Your now compelled by fright.

Fingers dance across your calf.

The specter writhes beneath the door.

Is that a disembodied laugh?

You whisper, "Nevermore."

You make the aging hinges sing.

"What's there?" your thoughts implore.

Convinced you'll see some ghastly thing,

Not moonlit hallway floor.

But that is all your eyes reveal.

Disbelief begins to bloom.

How could all your senses feel,

The overwhelming weight of doom?

Then step, step, step you hear anew.

A wash with thickening gloom.

The ghost must want to play with you,

Just in the other room.

Ghost Story - Justin

About the writing

I selected to write based on the form of Poe’s The Raven which is a massive poem. The form is unusual both in rhyme structure and in rhythm and could almost be likened to a song rather than a poem. I started by diagraming a stanza as a guide and working with the rhythm. One of the freeing things I found in studying the poem was that Poe was not strict with syllable counts provided there were the right amount of down beats and proper flow. I fought out 2 stanzas which do not appear here as they were replaced in the narrative arch, but they helped me find that flow and get comfortable with it. What I liked, I think I did the form justice. It was hard but fun writing. What I didn’t like, I didn’t finish: The Raven is 18 stanzas of building, driving, hammering, maddening glory. Though this narrative would not hammer even if pulled out to triple its 6 stanzas, I would have liked to deepen the arch in a longer build. The ideas were there for a lot of it and if we were doing this monthly instead of weekly, I could have made something I was happier with. I am happy with it though, I would like to fill it out and finish it. Maybe.

The child on the floor

As I sat at my desk writing, gently coaxing and inviting
Prose from sorrow’s soul to paper through my hand and pen outpour
I caught a chill I could not fend and thought the fire to attend
So rising, going there to mend, to mend the flames that roared before
I whispered “love, it grows cold; I’ll mend the flames that roared before
To the child on the floor

Now the child oft there played since mother, sister had been laid
To rest having caught a fever the autumn of the year before
And I smiled to see her folly, sitting, playing with a dolly
It fought against the melancholy always pressing at the door
The melancholy growing there where two were left where once was four
The autumn of the year before

It was a favorite of the older sister when the days grew colder
Huddled with her toys and playing warm before the fire’s roar
Then the younger took the spot to sit before the fire hot
For Jane I’m sure, and for me not she took the spot upon the floor
To honor Jane she took to playing warm before the fire’s roar
Quiet on the study floor

The household staff had thought it strange the child did her habits change
To leave her room and take to playing where her sister had before
I said I did not see the harm; I liked to have her near my arm
And that the cause of their alarm they should mention nevermore
She bought me some small solace from the sorrow knocking at the door
Since autumn of the year before

Spoke my daughter “is it cold? We had not noticed, truth be told
For me, the company does keep me warm inside your study’s door”
I smiled “my dear you are quite sweet; to think my presence might bring heat
To keep the chill from toes and feet as flames will dwindle more and more
To think that your dull father might replace the warmth from fire’s roar
Tis enough for winter’s store”

“Papa I do not wish you pain, but saying ‘we’ I spoke for Jane
Tis Jane whose friendship brings me in to play upon your study floor
She says she never feels the cold since the fever loosed its hold 
When autumn’s leaves were growing old October of the year before”
Said my daughter on the floor

Villain - Jason

On the assignment:

This week the assignment was to write a monologue on or from our favorite Villain.  I pretty quickly settled on Darth Vader, in my opinion one of the best characters from the Star Wars franchise, but also a character you could really sink your teeth into.  I originally thought about writing a serious piece, one that adds depth beyond what we see on screen.  In the end I decided that it would be more enjoyable to play wth the ideas of a monologue from a Villain and tweak some of the more laughable things in the material.  How would Darth Vader deal with a historian who might ask frustrating questions, if he did not opt to kill.

Legacy

Before we begin, I want to remind you that I only agreed to do this little interview so I could set my somewhat tarnished record straight and that I will not be accepting any of your leading questions.  I would prefer to avoid another "Naboo Hoo" incident.  I assure you that was a simple malfunction of my respirator, nothing more.  You should also know that the best lawyers in the empire are seeking damages for both it and the "Noooooo!!!" ringtones, which seem to be all the rage with the rebels these days.

As you look at me, Darth Vader, as a historic figure, you should see me not through the simple lens some have painted me, as the "Dork Lord" or "Failure in Black".  Instead, you should see me as a standout success, one who defeated all the odds stacked against him, one who despite all the bad circumstances has achieved so much.  I was born into slavery, became separated from my family, betrayed by my friends and let down by those who should be supporting me.  Even those that I was called to serve, now that I look back, seem so mad it is a wonder I was able to accomplish anything.  The difficulties were as vast as the Alderaan asteroid field.

Let me take you back to the Hutthole planet of Tatooine.  Where the sand was so.... 

(Garbled speech)

No, it was not like Luke.  It was nothing like Luke.  I was nothing like Luke.  Damn that colossal disappointment of a son of mine, always stepping on my story.  Why in the name of the Empire, do you guys like him so much?  Let's do a quick comparison, shall we?  Yes, we both spent our childhoods on the same planet.  So help me, if you ask why I didn't look there first, I will force choke each and every one of you.  As I have said before, many times, I didn't even know he existed and the galaxy is a big place.  Anyway, same planet, check.  That, though, is where the similarities end.  At nine I was building droids and flying pod racers and generally working to earn my freedom.  Luke, on the other hand, had his freedom and whined when he thought he was going to have to work at the family farm for another year.  I mean, you are going to complain about the simple and relaxing work of a moisture farmer.  Oh, the struggles of having to buy the next droid you are going to use and abuse.  Boo fricken Hoo! Guess what, I built one of those droids when I was half his age.  As a teen I had earned my freedom and began courting my wife, do you know who Luke was courting when he finally left Tatooine?  His sister!  That's right, this "Villain" is an interplanetary Mack daddy, while your Golden Boy is looking to his own twin for a little happy, fun time.  Don't make that face, just keep writing.

In addition to my family disappointment, I don't think it should go unnoticed that those closest to me have also caused me no shortage of trouble.  The Jedi... Can we talk about their code for just a second?  There is no emotion, there is peace?  What reality is that?  There is no chaos, there is harmony?  With who?  The Jedi have been fighting there way to harmony forever.  I am going to peacefully and with harmony use my lightsaber on you! That is the kind of crap only the council can shovel.  This is what they tried to train me and took issue when I couldn't take it.  What did these peace mongers do?  Well, they sent my master to kill me, used my wife to track me down and who offered to save her?  Not the Jedi, nope! Instead, it was a long time friend, who I had recently discovered was a Sith.   Yes, ultimately it turned out he too was a little mad, a little power hungry, but did that destroy me?  Did all the disappointments and madness swallow me whole? No.  Cause I am Vader.

Just as my body needed to be rebuilt from the treachery of Kenobi, my life would be rebuilt from all the disastrous events.  While the imperial officers sometimes treated me like the emperor's lap dog, I did rise to second in command.  I drove the execution of the greatest space station in the known galaxy.  It was magnificent!  A shining globe of awesome.  I wasn't the engineer.  How was I to know about the small design defect?  How was I to know that that defect could so easily be smuggled into the hands of a few obsessed rebels?  

Some blamed me.  Some thought we should invest more heavily into a few more Star Destroyers.  But it is the poor leader who can not learn from his mistakes.  That is exactly what I did.  I would build new from the ashes of the Death Star, leverage everything we had learned.  I would not be let down.  I refused to give into the superstitious lot when they suggested I should change the name of the second version.  Death Star II, was perfect, I thought, a name that stands on the legacy that came before.  One that speaks to my legacy.  Let's be honest that Star Killer petition was ridiculous.  This station, my Death Star II, would not be taken down by a single ship. It would stand the supreme jewel of the Empire.

I am sorry, what is that?  Did you say the shield generator?  With the help of a few Ewoks?

Kill me now!  Just kill me now! 

Villain - Justin

About the writing

I chose to write my monologue from Magneto because I find something sympathetic about him. His fight can be viewed as a fight against bigotry and therefore the line between hero and villain becomes a question of method. Truthfully Magneto has been on both sides of the line, but I think the most interesting villains always do. The most interesting villains have us wanting them to win, at least a little, and have us questioning our own principles and goodness.

This one was written by selecting a slightly altered version of the present and trying to hear the lines in Sir Ian McKellen’s voice. It helps tremendously with word choice when I imagine the actor that playing Magneto saying the lines.

Magneto- Monologue

My dear Charles, you still suppose reason is possible with these people; these slightly evolved primates? Don’t you remember all we’ve seen before? Does the idea of registration not remind you of anything? Not just the Nazi’s, no; they were no better here in the “land of the free.” Slavery, relocation of the natives, Japanese internment camps. The only thing that they need to strike out is to view a group as different and to lack understanding. And Charles, a lack of understanding should be printed on the national seal.

Honestly, Charles, I don’t wish to destroy or enslave all of them, but you must realize that the time has passed when we can simply talk. You could’ve swayed the last election with a little effort of that brilliant mind of yours, but you refuse to use you gifts, your power in these dealings. You insist on not infringing on their free will. It simply won’t do. Look at the news; the loudest idiot leads the poles and on what agenda? The one where mutants, where we are registered, tested, and categorized for the sake of national security. It doesn’t take much imagination to see that the idea of what constitutes a dangerous mutant will be expanded until they have us all locked up. How far are you willing to let them go before you start to resist? How long before you realize that the peace you so desperately want must be paid for either by your interference or by blood?

You could be President with the slightest effort. You could have the congress pass every reform needed for true security and peace and use your platform to educate the rest of the monkeys about who we are. Peace could be ours without you even breaking a sweat. Ah, but your principles. You sit there and imagine that yours is the more principled path, but you forget how long we’ve known each other. I don’t need your powers of clairvoyance to read your mind. Principle isn’t what holds you back; it’s fear. You’re afraid of your power. You’re afraid that once you started molding thoughts and getting results you would be tempted to be dictator. Tsk, tsk Charles. I can take down a building, I have, but that doesn’t mean I wreck every bit of architecture that offends my sensibilities. The virtuous professor that fears his own lack of self-control, sad indeed.

The only principle that matters here is survival. You could have taken care of this but you didn’t and now I have to. I stayed quiet while you tried to housebreak and educate these monkeys, you’ve failed. They are still throwing their feces at anything that spooks them, which is anything more complex than a banana. Now it’s your time to be quiet while I tend the zoo. I may not do it with the same finesse that you would be capable of, but I will not fail. I’m not afraid of my power and I have plenty of talented friends who can get most of this done with the littlest notice, they only ask permission to whip any monkeys that continue to hurl feces and refuse to recognize their place. They are angry with the treatment they’ve received. They should be angry at you for not stopping this tide of bigotry sooner. I would be if I weren’t so disgusted by you crippling weakness to take action. 

Metamorphosis - Jason

On the writing:

I had forgotten about the agreement to write a little about the process of writing, so in part this is a bit of a response to what Justin has written.  My process of counting a reading aloud and working the syllables and words is very much like his.  I never really slipping into a natural cadence with this poem and so there are parts I would change.

That being said, like him, Shelly loomed large in my thoughts as I wrote.  After all, we were writing on metamorphosis and as a Christian there is a metamorphosis we all look forward to and in the last two months I have looked forward to all the more.  She is not the topic of my poem, nor am I, but it is the thoughts of a man thinking about that very change; from flesh and futility to spirit and hope.
 

Not found, but Given

Illuminate umber revealing gold

My torch held reflecting off my worn ring

Earnest meaning in discovered wellspring

Telling assurances of one foretold

A man will bleed to make success unfold

Malayan gem sought to support offspring

One day this futile quest my end will bring

Replace the mortal heat for winter's cold

Prepare the shell with tears and box and shroud

Holy transcendence draws divided gaze

Opaque clouds part and eyes with light endowed

Sistine fresco in which to spend my days

Immense bounty before excited crowd

Songs deep compelled I cry with ancient praise

Metamorphosis - Justin

On writing a sonnet about metamorphosis:

My method of writing poetry starts by playing with lines mentally, sometimes for a few hours sometimes for a few days. In this case it was four days before I committed a single word to writing and at that point I wrote a rough draft in about fifteen minutes. When I say playing mentally with lines, what I mean is working on rhythm and finding the rhymes that can be reused. I literally count syllables on my fingers while overemphasizing word accents sometimes out loud. I need to be in a quiet undistracted place to accomplish this.

Once I have a workable poem (meaning rhyme and rhythm meets the requirements of structure.) I read it repeatedly. I’m looking now at logical flow and feeling. Will it make more sense if I switch these two lines? In the case of this sonnet I essentially flipped the octave (first eight lines) over. This was the point when I realized that the generality that I was writing about was no longer general and that I was actually writing about the death of my sister-in-law, Shelly. Being aware of that, the sestet (final six lines) was completely rewritten to push to a more solid ending.

Butterfly in Purple

When she emerged would they still recognize
Her gloried form with bright new colors hued
Piercing new glory that obscures the rude
And see the larva for the butterfly
And does she search for them with changeling eyes
The siblings with whom on the leaves she chewed
With wisdom matching beauty now imbued
As new wings stretched she lifts into the skies

But if they cannot see each other now
‘til all have in the cocoon changing slept
Emerging with new bodies He’s endowed
And understanding not why they had wept
Together then in glorious changed guise
They’ll stretch new wings and reach for yonder skies