A Poem, Forthcoming

I have been thinking about writing a poem dealing with the nature of glory. However, I have not until today found out how to write it. I am working on a poem entitled "Gloriossimus" (exceedingly glorious in Latin) and it is in the same style as Beethoven's "Ode to Joy." I am working through it, and it is rather difficult, but I expect a good finished product. I applogize for not being as porilific as I was two weeks ago, as I am very busy with school and SATs, and I am feeling some anxiety about college. Regardless, I wanted to state my plan for my poem, and I hope it comes out well.

I also want to explain that the poems I have written have an abundance of Classical refernces, that unless one is a classics scholar, or has a random love of classical literature and language, they may be missed. But alas, every line of my poetry was deliberately written, that is why I have embraced the free-verse style.

Remembrance of Things Passed

As I find it best to work though my anxiety by means of attempting to find my own poetic voice, I have composed another exaggerated work about being rejected. Again, please do not take this literally, I am just quite nervous about the cataclismic event that will take place on December 15. I will pick up the pieces and move on, and I have been working on other options, but I think that I have met my match, and to lose this opportunity due to my own sub-par performance on examinations would be a shame. I hope that writing semi-depressing, over dramatic verse does not jeapordize my chances of acceptance, but I am attempting to develop my own voice im poetry, and this is the best outlet for my thoughts, feelings and writings, and this is the premier way to recieve feedback and publish my works.


Remembrance of Things Passed

Since having stood in your presence,
Seen you high walls; felt your breath on by
Face, and held you in my arms,
I have lost my passion for life.

To so boisterously expressed my desire to
Become your partner,
And be cast off as a fly on a mountain.

HOW MY HEART BURNS FOR YOU!
WHAT I WOULD GIVE, WHAT I HAVE GIVEN
FOR YOU, and to disregard me!

I used to be moved by competitive endeavors
And beautiful things,
But having seen true greatness,
I am apathetic to the world.

In my previous years, I loved all the beautiful things of the world-
The symmetry of nature,
The enigma of the physical world,
The perfection of mathematics,
The aesthetic beauty of woman,
The ecstasy of competition,
The hope for a better world.

But all that has escaped my spirit.

Having been rejected by my better half,
And unwanted by the forbidden object of my desire,
I see not the utility of being.

How futile are all the other gods when compared to you!
How I have longed for you, and
What you do to my psyche.

Oh, I had the passion for existence,
And saw the glorious indulgence in the
Pleasures of the world;
But now those might as well not exist,
Without my pulchritudinous queen.

The Plague

I have found that my excessive nervousness about college, school, being a successful writer (quell the cynic in you from saying that the last one is an impossibility) and how I am seocnd guessing myself on my Chicago application. I wish that I could have touched more upon the fact that I have a fair amount of anxiety, and that maybe I should not have used the same content for the big essay. I also found a few minor inconsistencies in it, and I am exceedingly nervous. I have been contemplating writing a poem like this for a while, where I list the entities I discuss, and end with a shocking resolution. I hope that it turned out well, but I may revise it. And please, do not read too much into it.


The Plague


What have I done to deserve this curse!
What heavenly minds have I offended?
What transgressions have I committed?

Who have cursed my soul that I must bear this hardship?
To live with this syndrome is an agony almost unbearable.

The symptoms of this wretched disease include
Depression, hatred, susceptibility to bleeding, susceptibility to disease,
Weight gain, hypertension, dizziness, drowsiness, shortness of breath,
Anxiety, nausea, headache, insomnia, and the disease is always fatal.

I see those who have overcome this disease,
Quelled the symptoms and side effects,
And kept the demons to a minimum.

Are they superior beings, to not be affected the curse,
Or are they ignorant cretins, unaware of their true reality?

How horrid this disease is,
How I would never want to contract this, and
How bad I would feel for one that had this vile malady.

Well let me tell you that YOU have this plague-
Being alive!

To Waiting

As I have hitherto stated, I applied early to The University of Chicago. I havew an exceedingly great desire to be accepted, but due to the fact that I tend to worry and worry and worry about the future, I have found myself very on edge lately. It is surreal to think that college looms just around the bend, and it is a concept I am struggling to grasp. I am second guessing myself on how I presented myself on the application, and I feel as if I may have blown my chances. Anticipate another post akin to this one as decision time nears (December 15). I feel as if I am qualified, the right type of intellectual, but at this point I have no idea.

About the poetry I have been writing, please realize that I am being slightly overdramatic in my verse. Likening where I go to school to the verdict of eternal fate is pushing it even for me. I have found that I can be
effectively overdramatic, but to those who read it please do not be too deeply affected by it. I am fairly pleased with how I am developing my style in this blank verse poetry, but I have light years to go.


To Waiting

What a plague is this wait,
In anticipation of a climactic action.
How it sets my nerves ablaze and causes
My blood to boil.

The minutes past painfully slow,
It is as if a parasite is slowly eating away at my flesh.

Oh divine judge-

Send me a sign if I shall be
Lifted up with a favorable outcome,
Or if I shall have all my desires dashed
By this verdict of cosmic importance.

What cruel beast forces me to remain in this purgatory?!
Not knowing what will befall me.

To count the time away,
In a manic state, void of productivity.

What evildoings have I committed
So that my fate is thus?

My mind is weighted down by this eminent pronouncement.
My thoughts are drowned by this elephant in the room, and
My nightmares are overcome by this demonic presence.

What heartless creator made man with this self-consciousness?
To know the magnitude of future events,
And to be so overcome by them,
To lose the ability to survive in the present?

How I abhor my nervous and my wandering mind
That is obsessed with the future, and leaves my present behind.

I Hope The Gods See My Soul

I have applied to the University of Chicago, a school that I believe that I was born to go to. I am very nervous about getting accepted, and I will find out on Demeber 15th. I am doing my best to channel that nervous energy into creative energy, but nervous energy (Ne) > potential creative energy (PCe) says the Hillman law of nervous creative energy. I am doing my best to "hang in there" but I am rather nervous, I am not going to lie. Here are the fruits of labours.



I Hope The Gods See My Soul


I see not the logic in this lunacy,
This flawed system of ranking.

How inefficient we humans are,
Demeaning ourselves into a set of numbers,
Where the subtlest of differences sets us apart.

We are not living creatures to the gods!
We are merely faceless letters and numbers.

Why don’t they see our souls?
They only see poor indicators of ourselves!

Am I to be judged by these faulty marks?
Under an über-secrative criterion?

How faulty is this process!
What this does to our sanity!

Are my scores pleasing to these divine beings?
Only time will tell, if I have survived this criterion.

But how much more than these indicators I am!
I am a writer and a scholar and a mind.
I am not just a mindless, faceless, page of scores.
I cannot help but feel that this process is pedantic and donnish,
And given the chance I would alter this touchstone
So that the heavenly minds would see the heart and soul of the mortal,
And I fear that the Status Quo may not reflect that.