at four in the morning

at four in the morning,

After calling a day,

while going back home,

I looked up and saw

thousands of thousands of stars

twinkling brightly at where

they should be.

All day long, wrestling with

thick, heavy, dark clouds

made up of unanswered prayer

and full of rain, desperately 

depressed and defeated,

“Am I abandoned?”

asked I, and soon realized

shining stars keep shouting out

about the truth of life and love,

“You are a special, beloved

daughter, and at the rigth time,

all your wishes will come true.

Do not be afraid.

I am your shield, your very great reward.”


Although I wrote this poem for my poetry workshop, it is my personal story. While looking at stars, they always reminds me of the Bible verse, "Do not be afraid. I am your shield, your very great reward (Genesis 15:1)," and gave me unmeasurable peace in my heart. Sometimes without proper reason, depression stroke me and dragged me down to the bottom. I cannot avoid emptiness and loneliness. Last two to three weeks, because of being afraid to be get hurt, I tried to ignore and reject the truth and how I felt, which made me so down and lonely; however, after studying late, I accidentally looked up and saw the twinkling starts. It amazed me and its beauty overwhelmed me with peace and calm. While work-shopping, there were several good suggestions for better version, but I just put the original one. No matter I used the cliche image, such as shining stars and truth of life and love, it was exactly the way I felt and the way I was learned from the moment.

My friend

While in an introduction of poetry writing workshop with Mary Leader, one of my fall semester courses, I wrote a letter to my friend using a poetry form, who will graduate in this winter. Due to writing in application for blogposting, even though poem should be single space, it seem double, which really made me frustrated. I am like deep meaning and structured poem. Well. just post it.

 

My friend

Kylie, having known
for three years
since college freshmen
allowed to have, for me,
special comfort, memories
care and friendship, love,
in my history of
early twenties, when
the time period, mostly,
I stumbled, struggled,
easily got confused and hurt;
however, with you, be able
to survive from loneliness.
I am blessed to have you
as a friend in an early age.

Everyday, pray for you;
your family, your people.
Hope my prayer protect
your way, future, and provide
full of happiness.

Don't forget how beautiful
and lovely you are, no matter
what others say.  

Sincerely.

A Poetry Handbook, Mary Oliver

Introduction

***** Exercise
Poems:
- written in emotional freedom
- the content of the language

"A poem that is composed without the sweet and correct formalities of language, which are what sets it apart from the dailiness of ordinary writing, is doomed. It will not fly. It will be raucous and sloppy - the work of an amateur."


Getting Ready

"Writing a poem is not so different - it is a kind of possible love affair between something like the heart (that courageous but also shy factory of emotion) and the learned skills of the conscious mind. They make appointments with each other, and keep them, and something begins to happen. Or, they make appointments with each other but are casual and often fail to keep them: count on it, nothing happens."

*** a passionate relationship and speak what is in tis own portion of your mind, the other responsible and purposeful part

"A final observation. Poetry is a river; many voices travel in it; poem after poem moves along in the exciting crests and falls of the river waves. None is timeless; each arrives in an historical context; almost everything, in the end, passes. But the desire to make a poem, and the world's willingness ti receive it - indeed the world's need of it - these never pass."


Reading Poems

"The truly contemporary creative force is something that is built out of the past, but with a difference."

"To be contemporary is to rise through the stack of the past, like the first through the mountain. Only a heat so deeply and intelligently born can carry a nee idea into the air."


Imitation

"It demands, finally, a thrust of our own imagination - a force, a new idea - to make sure that we do not merely copy, but inherit, and proceed from what we have learned. A poet develops his or her own style slowly, over a long period of working and thinking - thinking about other styles, among other things. Imitation fades as a poet's own style - that is, the poet's own determined goals set out in the technical apparatus that will best achieve those goals - begins to be embraced."

Poetry of the Past
"To be without this felt sensitivity to a poem as a structure of lines and rhythmic energy and repetitive sound is to be forever less equipped, less deft than the poet who dreams of making a new thing can afford to be. Free verse, after all, developed from metrical verse."

"The presentation of metrical verse first is often so off-putting that it is worthwhile letting it rest on the tracks. There is much to be said for the idea of reading, talking about, and imitating contemporary - and I mean congenial contemporary - poems first, and then, later, as students become more confident, ambitious, and sophisticated, suggesting that they move on to (or back to) the difficult patterns of metrical verse."

"The space between daily language and literature is neither terribly deep nor wide, but it does contain a vital difference - of intent and intensity.

**** in structure or statement

"Language, ... , is the medium that will be quick and living - the serviceable clay of one's thoughts."

Poetry of the Present

*** "the familiarity of the language itself - not very different from the language that we use daily - gives confidence."

"One learns by thinking about writing, and by talking about writing - but primarily through writing.
Imitating such poems is an excellent way to realize that they are not very similar after all, but contain differences that are constant, subtle, intense, and radiantly interesting."


"Emotional freedom, the integrity and special quality of one's own work - these are not first things, but final things. Only the patient and diligent, as well as the inspired, ..."


P. 1 Introduction - P. 18 Imitation
A Poetry Handbook: A Prose Guide To Understanding And Writing Poetry
by Mary Oliver
A Harvest Original, Harcourt, Inc. , 1994

A Few Don'ts by an Imagiste, Ezra Pound

"An "Image" is that which presents an intellectual and emotional complex on an instant of time."

"It is the presentation of such a "complex" instantaneously which gives that sense if sudden liberation; that sense of freedom from time limits and space limits; that sense of sudden growth, which we experience in the presence of the greatest works of art."

"Pay no attention to the criticism of men who have never themselves written a notable work. Consider the discrepancies between the actual writing of the Greek poets and dramatists, and the theories of the Graeco-Roman grammarian, concocted to explain their metres."

LANGUAGE

"Use no superfluous word, no adjective, which does not reveal something."

"Don't use such an expression as "dim lands of peace." It dulls the image. It mixes an abstraction with the concrete. It comes from the writer's not realizing that the natural object is always the adequate symbol."

"Go in fear if abstractions. Don't retell in mediocre verse what has already been done in good prose."

"Be influenced by as many great artists as you can, but have the decency either to acknowledge the debt outright, or to try to conceal it."

"Don't allow "influence" to mean merely that you mop up the particular decorative vocabulary of some one or two poets whom you happen to admire."

"Use either no ornament or good ornament."

RHYTHM AND RHYME

"Let the candidate fill his mind with the finest cadences he can discover, preferably in a foreign language so that the meaning of the words may be less likely ti divert his attention from the movement."

"Let the neophyte know assonance and alliteration, rhyme immediate and delayed, simple and polyphonic."

"Don't imagine that a thing will "go" in verse just because it's too dull to go in prose."

"Don't be "viewy"-leave that ti the writers of pretty little philosophical essays. Don't be descriptive."

"Consider the way of the scientists rather than the way of an advertising agent for a new soap."

"Don't chop your stuff into separate iambs. Don't make each line stop dead at the end, and then begin every next line with a heave. Let the beginning of the next line catch the rise of the rhythm wave, unless you want a definite longish pause."

"Naturally, your rhythmic structure should not destroy the shape of your words, or their natural sound, or their meaning."

"A rhyme must have in it some slight element of surprise if it is to give pleasure; it need not be bizarre or curious, but it must be well used if used at all."

First draft, Light

Genesis 1:1-5
"In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth. Now the earth was formless and empty, darkness was over the surface of the deep, and the Spirit of God was hovering over the waters.
And God said, "Let there be light," and there was light. God saw that the light was good, and he separated the light from the darkness. God called the light "day," and the darkness he called "night." And there was evening, and there was morning-the first day."


Before she read the Word, her life was formless and empty, and the darkness was all around and over her mind. Alrhough she had some love, faith, and hope, they did not stay in right place and just hovered around her soul. Her life was in a wrong way, such as money, fame, power, sex. She always felt that emptiness even though everyone seemed to love her. Once when formless emptiness overwhelmed her emotion and thought, she decided to commit suicide. She brought some Aspirins and locked herself into her room; however, the fear of pain, death and hell made her hesitated and heard the Word. Before calling the end of life, she opened the Book called "Holy Bible," and she heard the Word, "Everyone who believes in him may have eternal life. For God so loved the world that he gave his one and only Son, that whoever believes in him shall not perish but have eternal life." (John 3:16, NIV) She started to cry and the Word confirmed the message, "I have told you these things, so that in me hou may have peace. In this world, you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world." (John 16:33, NIV) In her dark, depressed mind and soul, the Word turned on the light, and she saw someone right next to her, who protect and guide her to save from the death. When she realized that she was not alone, the greatest peace covered her. Still she needed to be formed and fulfilled, the direction of her life changed to the right way, from the death to the eternal life.

First draft, All of Sudden

Life is the loneliest subject on the earth. Human beings have no choice to leave the world together since entering it alone, and solitude become the burden that everyone has its own to take care for thier life long, either visible or invisible. Although a few people found their lovers with God's blessing, who would protect and love them till thier death, due to the faded meaning of marriage, even love became the one moment instant feeling to enjoy. Since an uncertain moment, my sensibility neither desire nore reject the love. Some part of mine deadly desire, but the other part thought it as an annoying and bothersome feeling. I became lethagic because if not knowing why I felt and how to fulfill the emptiness. Once I failed to get over lethagy, my life would be affected by losing confidence or thinking negatively. When everything that the most people do and get easily became the hardest thing for me, made me feel nothing and useless. Others easily said focusing on the life help to get through it, but it only work for the working moment. When the night time before falling asleep, once again, I needed t fight against the overwhelming solitude. To change this solitude to happiness, something new happen and new people put fresh air. And everything requires the effort. However, the effort doesn't guarantee the success. Even though the effor provide the small achievement, it also made feel some failure easily. That is all about life. We can feel them because of being alive, and with them, we won't get bored. While making some effort to put some fresh, lovely air into the life, happinies come right in front of me. As usual, i went to school, did homeworks, and met some people. One day, I randomly joined the lunch with friends, and there was an unexpected one, who couldn't get close to.

Recently, I became interested in flash fictions which only have less than a thousand words, usually around three hundreds words, and desired to write some. I have no idea how to write, but keep writing to practice them. Hope it help me to establish my writing skills.

First draft, Virgin Grace White

Virgin Grace White


Under the heavy, dark clouds, it was raining all day long, and thick, huge raindrop kept knocking on the window to tell the story of what they had been watching and listening to while traveling around the world. Also they deserving to sneak into and glance at the secret didn’t seem to stop annoying or entertaining people. Inside of the window, there was a young, tiny, beautiful girl sitting in front of the desk to write something on a blank white paper. It seemed like a daily journal or a love letter. With warmness and coziness, the music was whispering to her ears quietly.
“My tea’s gone cold I’m wondering why
I got out of bed at all.
The morning rain clouds up my window
And I can’t see at all.
And even if I could it’ll all be grey
But your picture on my wall,
It reminds me that it’s not so bad
It’s not so bad.”
Holding a pen and thinking deeply of what she had done and what she could write took her for a while to make a pen dance as she felt, joyfully and happily. As soon as the song hit the climax with a girl screaming, the story was written.

My name is Grace White. I just turned to eighteen years old and after graduation, I am leaving for college with my boyfriend, Phil Wright. I am a daughter of the Baptist Minister and growing up as a daughter of the pastor made me morally strict and conservative. I had to be pure, clean, smart, gentle, and especially morally perfect. I needed to be home before ten o’clock and was not allowed to sleep over at any place without parents. I was not allowed to hang out with friends who were not Christians and not allowed to listen to any types of music. Only music I was allowed to listen was Hymn, Contemporary Christian Music, or classic one such as Chopin. Listening to Pop, especially Rap and Hip-Hop became the sin. Because of my parents, at church and home, I needed to act like a good girl, studying hard and keeping my faith in the religion; however, at school, staying away from pressure let me feel free to be myself. Unless I made any remarkable troubles, there was no one to make me a bad person. There was no one to tell me that listening to pop music is bad, to make comments on my clothes, or make me feel guilty about anything. I love my school friends way more than church one. From my perspective, my church friends are all fakes. They act nicely and gently to me and adore me without knowing me well enough to talk about me, because of my father. They never know how hard to live under the restriction that oppressed me, and today, I, who they praised for the moral perfection, committed the sin. According to my father, having sex before marriage is the sin as well as drinking and smoking.
Today was our fourth anniversary with my faithful boyfriend, Phil Wright. I believed him more than anyone else in the earth. He is the only one who understands and loves the way I am. Last four years, he gave me so much love and faith, and I wanted to give him something back. I still remember the first time I saw him. In my memory, we were in same English and mathematic classes. Although I was not really interested in any type of men or making a boyfriend, he grabbed my attention. He was taller than six feet and his body was well shaped, which made him confident on his appearance. He was outgoing, funny, smart, somehow rude, but gentle. His kindness was only for me, not for any other girls, that made me more special. When he came to say “hi,” I was frozen. I could not figure out the reasons, but the way I felt made me revealed another side of mine. When he first hugged me, I could feel and hear his heartbeat which proved me how much he loved me. During dinner, we talked about last four years, and after having a nice dinner, we went to his house. While giggling, hugging, and kissing on his bed, I told him about my feeling for him and he replied short and sweet, but strong three words, “I love you.” With the romantic mood overwhelming around us, the sin was committed. Although my religion, parents, and maybe church people would place me into the sin, I loved the moment sharing love feeling each other more deeply. It was unforgettable in my life, and I believe that he is the one I love in this world and as he told me. Although my virginity was gone, sweet happiness holds me tightly. Although I was not a person who kept writing journals and not sure how long it will last, wanted to keep this happiness and the moment I first made love with the best man in the world.

It seemed her happiness would last forever and Grace White was more than sure of her feeling of happiness, relationship and future with Phil. When she came into the room, she kept singing and dancing and her smiles and laughs did not leave her alone. Sometimes, with full of smiles on her face, she mumbled, thought, dreamed, and imagined herself, and suddenly kicked in the air and rolled her body in the bed with shyness. Although her sweet talks on the phone and lovely feeling toward her lover still worked on her heart and went around her mind, a small, but thick, dark cloud came close to her window to let her know that there would be raining soon.
About a month later, she sat in front of the desk, put her journal, and started reading the day she first made love. It seemed that something went wrong, something happened. While reading her journal, she started to smile again, but her eyes got watery. Once looking at the date she wrote the journal on her first physical relationship with Phil, she checked on the calendar about the date of her period. She bit her thumb nail, and her eyes rolled around quickly. To hide her anxiety, she put earphones on her ears and turned on the music.
“My tea’s gone cold I’m wondering why
I got out of bed at all.
The morning rain clouds up my window
And I can’t see at all.
And even if I could it’ll all be grey
But your picture on my wall,
It reminds me that it’s not so bad
It’s not so bad.”
She calmed herself down and tried to start writing, but a bell ringing interrupted everything. She grimaced at the irritation and picked up the phone. As soon as she checked that it was Phil, all bad feeling fading away let her smile. She went to sit on the bed.
“Hello?”
She started to talk with him about her life and listen to him, and since their talks lasted longer, raindrops put their ears on the window as close as possible. Although she put the blanket over her head, they could still hear her. Her secret wanted to sneak out and came to the raindrops.
“Phil, I missed my period.” Grace said.
“Oh, are you sick? Are you okay?” Phil started to worry and asked her.
“No, I feel great. I am just worrying about…“
“About?”
“I am worrying about pregnancy.” Grace whispered.
“Oh …” Phil could not hide the embarrassment, but continued to talk, “did you get a pregnancy test?”
“No, not yet.” She answered.
“Grace, I don’t think you are pregnant. No worry. It was only once, and its possibility is very low. Tomorrow, I will get the self pregnancy test kit. Until something happen, do not worry. Even if something happens, do not worry. I am and will be with you whatsoever happens to you. I love you.”
“I love you, too. I should go to bed, now. You relieved me from all the anxieties. I am just scared to tell my parents when it comes out to pregnant.”
“On, Grace. Don’t worry, first. It won’t happen. Just sleep and relax yourself.”
“Okay, See you tomorrow at school!” she hung up with a big smile and went back to the desk. Once again, she started to write the journal.

I just realized that I missed my period this month, which made me really worry about the pregnancy and myself. Is it possible that having sex only once can make a baby? Then, am I pregnant? If I really am, then what should I do? How should I tell my parents? What can I say them? What will my parents tell me about it? Hope I am not pregnant as Phil said.
But, ironically, after talking with Phil, I feel relief and even little great. Because of what he said, “I am and will be with you although whatever happen to you. I love you,” my anxiety was fleeing away and made me think about the further relationship and future with Phil. Having children looking like whom I love and making the life together might be great. I remember the day making love and what he said after all. Nice warm air around us, feeling him through whole body made me, and being surrounded by his strong arms made me feel secure and comfortable emotionally. I cannot forget his eyes. There was no doubt that he is the one I have in my life.

After moving a pen around the white blank paper, she rested her chin on her hands and went into the deep thought.

Next day, Grace brought a self pregnancy test kit in her backpack. She read the direction very carefully and went into the bathroom. Although time went away, she did not seem to get out of the bathroom. After about an hour, she came out from the bathroom with a white stick in her hand. She was crying. She called someone, maybe Phil, and with little talk, she left the room.
Almost 9:00 p.m., she came back and started to cry quietly. She cried and prayed for hours and hours and fell asleep.

After more than a month, there was still a song singing sadly in her ears, while sitting in front of her antique, wooden desk right in front of the window. For her, the song was well mixed with the rainy day and made her more melancholy. She rested her chin on her both hands and went into the deep thought.
“My tea's gone cold I'm wondering why
I got out of bed at all.
The morning rain clouds up my window
And I can't see at all.
And even if I could it'll all be grey
But your picture on my wall,
It reminds me that it’s not so bad
It's not so bad.”
As soon as she woke up from the unrealistic and ideal dream of her future, she started to write her journal.

Since I had an abortion, I have dreamed the same thing, which made me freak out. Although she was still a baby and hard to tell whether a girl or a boy by appearance, I could tell she was a girl. In the beginning, I could not even see her, but as soon as she held my right hand, she grew up so fast. However, I was afraid. I didn’t want her to be with me, because I was all by myself. I was alone. I took her hand off of me, and she melt into the blood. Red blood on the grey background emphasized the death of one’s life, and cried out, “why did you kill me? Why did you kill me?” Even though I ran away, it kept following me and asked, “Why did you kill me? Why did you kill me, mom?” it was the nightmare I had every night.
I shouldn’t have been acting like a fool. I should not believe any one. There were nothing true, and his love was not, too. After graduation, I killed the baby I desired to see with Phil, but when Phil ran away, there was nothing left for me. By myself, I could not tell my parents because I was afraid of what they would say and how the other people looked at me. The sweetest dream ended up as a tragedy and I am not only the sinner who broke the natural order, but also the real sinner who kill the baby. I should have done before my parents knew that I got a baby; however, it cost too much pain and guilt. When I brought the self pregnancy test kit to Phil, when he saw that I was pregnant, I saw his eyes were shaken. I have never expected how he treated me and said to me. When I went to meet him, I saw he was sure of that there would be one line, but when he saw that there were two lines, he did not say anything for about thirty minutes. There was only awkward silence between us, and he said, “I’m sorry.” I asked him back, “what are you sorry for?” But he did not answer, just rode me back home. At that moment, I could not get what he meant. After, He avoided me, and a week later, he came to meet me and asked me abortion. As soon as he had said what he wanted to say, he ran away from me. He went to Africa missionary trip for three months. There was no way I could contact him, and there was nothing I could say him. I did not say or ask him anything. Yes, it was him. It was him who gave up on me. It was him who killed my baby, and it was me who actually killed my baby. After abortion, there was a baby appearing in my dream and kept asking me why I killed her. How can I be away from this guilty conscience? How can I relieve from all the pain I am paying for, right now? How can I remove the burden of murder? How can I...?

After writing her journal, she disappeared. She was gone forever. There were only white chrysanthemums on her desk. She died. She killed herself. It might be too much pressure for her. She might be immature to get controlled over everything happened around her. Although her physical appearance seemed to be an adult, her spirituality and mentality were still young to control. What made her insisted to tell the other. She could tell her sister, if she was afraid of her father. They don’t know the answer since the dead wouldn’t say anything; however, her young immature decision brought the tragedy to Whites.
Every night, her father came into her room and cried. When her mother found him cry, both cried together. Her sister came into her room, and tried to feel her in her bed. But she was gone and never came back.
On her desk, there were two letters.
To, my beloved daughter, Grace White
Grace, my beloved daughter, Grace. We really miss you from the bottom of our heart. Grace, I am really sorry for making you guilty and not teaching the most important thing. Whatever you had done, we love you. Whoever you are, we love you the way you are, because you are wonderful being yourself, and there was no one who can say that you are the sinner because we all are the sinner. With the grace of God, there was nothing unforgivable and unforgettable, and there was no one who could judge the others. I am really sorry that I forced you to live the way I wanted you to. Grace, rest in peace and hope to see you again.
From, you father, David White

To, Grace White
Grace, I am really sorry that I did not keep my words. I was really scared of everything. I did not know what I could do and what I should do. I was also afraid of telling my parents and facing the problem. I believed that abortion was the answer for everything, but it wasn’t. I really want to take my responsibility and prove that I do really love you all my heart. Would you marry me? Although I know after disappointment, it is hard to recover the relationship, I do not want to miss you and I do want to be your husband as soon as I get back to United States. Hope this letter gets to you before you are going through abortion. I am really sorry and love you so much. I will do my best to love you.
From, Phil Wright

However, they were too late to change the thing right. She was already gone and never came back. There was still a song whispering in her ears, to say that it would be okay.

“My tea's gone cold I'm wondering why
I got out of bed at all.
The morning rain clouds up my window
And I can't see at all.
And even if I could it'll all be grey
But your picture on my wall,
It reminds me that it’s not so bad
It's not so bad.”


While listening to "Stan," by Eminem, A huge inspiration stoke my heart and decided to write about an abortion. This is my first draft, and I am sure that there are many grammatical errors and things to revise. However, just want to share my inspiration with others.