Motive

This poem was written as an entry for a scholarship, where the prompt was essentially "Write a poem about why you write poetry". Since writing poetry about poetry is my specialty, I gave it a go. Unfortunately, the winner is to be selected randomly, so my superior skill and willingness to rhyme will not be a factor.

Wherefore do I write poetry, you ask?

I am afraid my answer won't be clear.

But nonetheless I must attempt this task.

I guess I write my poems out of fear.

I fear I'm doing nothing with my time.

I fear that all my life will be for naught.

To waste a life is surely quite a crime

And so I make the best of what I've got.

My poetry stands testament to time

That I have spent creating something great.

With each alliteration, foot, and rhyme,

My art emerges, beautiful, ornate

Of my own reasons, I am not quite sure

Perhaps that's part of poetry's allure.

Red (Not the Taylor Swift Album)

This one actually has a funny story to it. You see, one of my friends (The secondary content manager for my other blog, actually) posted a picture where some person asked for someone to describe the color red without using the word "red". Someone responded with some rather charming purple prose, as follows:

"When you dip her in the middle of the dance floor, it is the color of her dress. When she whispers in your ear, it is the color of her lips. When you make love, it is the trace you want her to leave all over your body. When she places her palm over your heart, it is the color that comes to the surface as her fingertips trail like a sentence that can never be finished. When you see her in your bedroom with another, it is the color of your breath. When you smash the vase in the hall, it is the color that threatens you to abandon the shattered pieces. When you scream at the top of your lungs, it is the color that pierces the atmosphere. When she hears you, it is the color of her pulse. When you look in her eyes for the last time, it is the fading color of your heart falling to your knees. It is not the color you see when she leaves."

It was posted by a chap by going by the screen name of "book-halfunread", and I admit that it's quite a beautiful piece of prose. Naturally, I responded to my friend's share of the picture with "625-750 nm electromagnetic radiation. Owned". Afterwards, she had the audacity to say that I, a genuine poet, was not as amazing with words! Needless to say, I was seeing red. In my anger, I whipped up a poem of my own about the color red. I cannot say for sure that it outshines book-halfunread, but I believe it to be perhaps some of my finer work.

Anyway, without further ado:

The color of a fiercely beating heart

The hue you grew when you first heard “I do”

The fire that rages, deep within my art.

It can combat its calmer brother, blue.

It is the color that provides us life

and yet it's that which signifies our death.

A cross that seeks to stop sickness and strife

A wounded warrior's gasped final breath

The budding tenderness of Valentines

The crimson radiance of setting suns

The flaming hope which in the darkness shines

The color of one's nipples when one runs.

And yet, all of the many things I've said

can be conveyed with just the color red.

If you're confused about that bit about nipples, here's an explanation.

Solipsism

I wonder if the world is just a dream

Elaborate illusions in my head

And all reality is as I deem

The weaver of the universe's thread

Then why is my world filled with all this pain?

Could I not simply wish the world was well?

I do not know what I could have to gain

In making people's lives a living hell.

Perhaps a deity can be as flawed

as any mortal, making my mistakes

A solipsist is just a Lonely God

who hit the gas but cannot reach the brakes.

Just like that boss from Star Fox Sixty Four

I'm sorry, I will show myself the door.

Crown of Chaos - Explanatory Prose

I'd highly recommend that you read this post before you start reading all the posts that come after it. Specifically, the ones that begin with "Crown of Chaos". You see, a crown of sonnets is a special kind of sonnet cycle. (A cycle is more or less just the collective noun for sonnets. A pack of dogs, a murder of crows, a fondle of unicorns, ect.) A crown of sonnets is defined as a cycle of sonnets such that the last line of each sonnet is the first line of the next one. This chains them all together, until the final sonnet, which ends with the first line of the first sonnet. This brings them all together in a sort of circle. A "crown", if you will. A special case of the crown of sonnets is a heroic crown of sonnets. This is a special kind of crown, consisting of 14 sonnets. A 15th sonnet is then formed from the first line of each sonnet. Actually, I should probably just let Wikipedia explain it.

This requires incredible skill with words, as the first line of each poem not only has to follow the correct rhyme scheme, but it should hopefully make some kind of sense. Despite this, I wrote one, and it follows this explanation. Each sonnet in the crown is posted in order, starting with the "crown jewel", the one constructed from the first lines of the previous 14. The title "Crown of Chaos", was chosen because it sounds cool. Also, "chaos" and "havoc" are basically the same thing, right? Right.

(The first sonnet can be found here)

Crown of Chaos - Crown Jewel

A crown of sonnets: quite a daunting feat

Perhaps I should give something else a try

But I can't let this crown go incomplete

I do not want to be that kind of guy

Unless that guy is Batman; that'd be sweet

From my own pit I shall attempt to rise.

I shall become a scholarly elite.

And if you disagree, then damn your eyes.

I'm really, really, very super tired.

These sonnets must continue, nonetheless.

Until I make the effort that's required

At my potential I can only guess

I hope to end these sonnets with a smile

If I must leave, I'd like to leave in style.

(The first sonnet can be found here) 

Crown of Chaos 1 - Introduction

A crown of sonnets: quite a daunting feat

To even try would label me a fool.

And while success would make me seem elite,

A topic won't be given, like in school

So far, I've always written on one thing.

My poems always had a “meta” feel.

I fear that if I step outside my ring,

I'll fail to find the words to “keep it real”.

Perhaps for this I'll take a lighter heart.

Apply the wit I often use in prose

Although it may be true that all true art

is angsty, just as the old saying goes

Perhaps “true art's” not where my talents lie

Perhaps I should give something else a try.

(The next sonnet can be found here)

Crown of Chaos 2 - Why I Fight

Perhaps I should give something else a try.

If I gave up, no one would ever know.

Alas! I cannot trust this easy lie.

The reason for these sonnets is to show

That I can change, that I can choose to work.

I do not mean to prove myself to peers,

It is in my own mind that judgments lurk.

I write this so that I might face my fears.

But you, the reader, do not care about

the reason that I wrote this sonnet crown.

And I did say that I would write without

me saying things that might cause you to frown.

I know this project may not end up neat

But I can't let this crown go incomplete.

(The next sonnet can be found here)