Artists Among Poets Class Blog - Amirah

Bread on the Floor What is life, if it can’t be spent  eating a perfectly good loaf of bread? How could I, the average denizen, be so foolish as to have this artisanal piece of art escape me? This speckled beauty I worked so hard in carrying, as if it were a gentle fish out of the water,  is now lost in the abyss. This endless tragedy reminds me of the struggle when using a spoon underwater: painful and eternal,  a process that will never have any successful results. What am I to do now that my egg’s yolk  is on the sea level’s ground? Pick it up and place it on my telephone? Burn it in a fire until my house turns into a crocodile’s tail? Not a yes, but a neigh, from the language of the horses. The correct method of approach is to go about it as if  befriending a shrimp in a tank full of sharks:  we grab it by the hat,  save it from disease, throw it back into its kingdom, then, vacuum. Are mirrors real when our eyes aren’t real?

Baking Bread As if the entire earth is silent, A  slow      and     low moan. White-laced, a Sweet face. It sweeps away discomfort in a       soft embrace. The presence of honey as if it were         a warm blanket wraps around you,             just you. The texture changes, unprecedented. Almost at its peak,            just a little longer. Through this exchange,      a sense of wonder                is deranged. There is nothing like this     in the world, A sound so silent, it    disappears. As these thoughts flow, flow through the air     through my mind, the light,             gentle pillow sings to you it's time to sleep.

Burnt Bread Rising. Stagnance. Rising. Stagnance. Stagnance. Rising. It’s soft and rising. Time appears to be still. Still and rising. Still and rising. Rising and still. Time and rising. Heat and time. Time and heat. Heat and rising. Heat and time. Rising and time. Rising and rising. Oh. It got bigger. Bigger and rising? Rising and still. If it's rising yet still then is risingness still? Darker and rising or darker and still? Darker and darker and rising and darker. Oh. Too dark. Darker than black. Blacker than black. Darker and blacker than blacker and black. It's not bigger and darker but darker and darkness. Blacker is darkness but is darkness black? Oh well, It's still Edible.

I long for time, I long for a dream. I long for a wish to come, I long for this day to continue. I long for the time I spent learning the piano, I long for the simple equations I solved as a kid. I long for the loud banging of the drums I'd hear every night, I long for the gentle comfort my cat would bring every day. I long for the sweet aroma of bread filling the house, I long for the time to read books at my favorite playground. I long for a peaceful breakfast time by myself, I long for a memorable lunch time with you. I long for class to end, I long for the time we spend together. I long for the times we go to the beach listening to terrible music, I long for the times we laugh at mediocre jokes. I long for the times we’d play games till 4 in the morning, I long for the bad movies we'd watch while doing our homework. I long for the weekdays we'd spend trying to find each other in between classes, I long for the weekends we'

How Ezra Pound defines "image" The image is the poet’s pigment. The image is not an idea; it is a radiate node or cluster, a vortex through which and from which and into which ideas are constantly rushing. It is as true for painting and sculpture as it is for poetry. Personally, I like to break the lines based on how I read it when I go over what I had just written/ thought in my mind. This is the method Edward Hirsh also mentioned in his handout. I think it is the easiest and most efficient way to create pauses and dramatic effect, as well as create a setting for the flow and narrative. Another method I like to use when breaking the lines in my poems, is I think about the implication I am trying to get out of it. For instance, thinking of why I would add a pause in that area, or if I changed stanzas here would the way it was being read be improved. I don't tend to use a consistent way to break lines (though I don't believe I have written enough poetry to make su