Journal 6

Daddy, why are you so mean?
Why so strict? Why is it that I
ask mum when I want sweets
and toys? Daddy, what if you
blew bubbles with me every
now and then? Daddy, do you
think that we could be close
enough that you might recognise
your face in my eyes? Mum
once told me I have your eyes.
Daddy, are you proud of that?
Or are you just praying that I
might develop the rest of your
features? I can assure you now
that won’t happen. Daddy, I
won’t be you. I’m not good
at math. I won’t work until
my family misses my face.
I’d try to be the good cop
sometimes. Daddy, you know
I love you. Thank you for
playing your part in making
me. Maybe one day I will
see myself in your eyes,
but right now you’re too far.
Daddy, I’m not in your office.
Daddy, I’ll miss calling you
Daddy.

Journal 5

This is the world we wanted.
An endless intangible stumbling ground of false deities.
I listen to myself.
I watch tadpoles sink.
I see my therapist
so I don’t feel so naked.

You might ask why. Here’s why. It is poetry.
It is grief.
We are, I am, you are.
More & more I see the human form.
We Die soon.
Nobody knows where.
The answer never comes.
This is exactly how I knew it would be.
Life, friends, is boring
I raise the machete.

[Sources: Louise Gluck , Marcus Wicker, Ellery Akers]
[Carol Ann Duffy, Ai, Adrienne Rich , Simone Muench, Gwendolyn Brooks, Sharon Olds, Ocean Vuong, Marie Howe, John Berryman, Ai]

Journal 4

The cows stand under the trees in the wet grass,
lifting their necks to pull leaves down.
We slow the truck,
pull over to the side of the road to watch them.
How graceful they look,
how unlike themselves.
We get out and lean on the fence.
The cows don’t seem to notice we are there.

The cows stand
under the trees
in the wet grass,
lifting their necks
to pull leaves down.
We slow the truck,
pull over to the side of the road
to watch them.
How graceful they look,
how unlike themselves.
We get out
and lean on the fence.
The cows don’t seem to notice
we are there.

The cows stand under the trees in the wet grass, lifting their necks
to pull leaves down. 
We slow the truck, pull over to the side of the
road to watch them. 
How graceful they look, how unlike themselves.
We get out and lean on the fence. The cows don’t seem to notice
we are there.

The first version doesn’t put emphasis on any words, or distort the meaning in any way. By end stopping each line, the text reads more like prose, and the reader likely will only pause naturally as they read. Since it’s structured more naturally, it doesn’t command as much attention, or try to focus it in certain areas. It is the most standard, regular version of the poem.
The second version, on the other hand, for the most part alternates between end-stopped lines and enjambment. This attempts to put more restriction, or control on how the reader reads it. By forcing the reader to constantly shift their eyes to the next line, the reader must dwell on each short line for a little longer. I think this version has more of a focus on the descriptions, but also the actions, since the more vivid words are spread out.
The last version, structured as a simple block of text, is similar to the first version, but limits the amount of end-stopped lines. This creates less pausing where it might seem natural, and some significant factors of the poem may be ignored and others emphasised. The ending line: “we are there” is seen as abnormal in the context of this version, and could be read in different ways because of it.

Journal 3

 

This horrid night,
with rain hitting the ground with the brashness of gunshots,
has not been kind to me,
or my victim. The bangs match the twinges of misery I feel
as each bullet of rain hits my body.
This happens, all while I am dragging this corpse, as heavy
as a fighter jet,
to my deep, gloomy trunk. I toss this unlucky fellow in, hearing
sudden impact like a bomb.
I don’t know this man’s story. He will never know mine.
As I grip the steering-wheel,
shots of pain take hold of my hands. To my fingers, the wheel
feels like the bloody blade of a knife.
My mind is frantic; there is a ringing in my aching head like sirens.
The more I accelerate,
the heavier guilt weighs down on me like a loaded army tank.

This horrid night,
With rain hitting the ground with the brashness of trumpets,
Has not been kind to me,
Or my victim. The roars match the twinges of misery I feel
as each spear of rain hits my body.
This happens, all while I am dragging this corpse, as heavy
As an elephant,
To my deep, gloomy trunk. I toss this unlucky fellow in, hearing
Sudden impact like a railway collision.
I don’t know this man’s story. He will never know mine.
As I grip the steering-wheel,
shots of pain take hold of my hands. To my fingers, the wheel
feels like a shock of electricity.
My mind is frantic; there is a ringing in my aching head like a school bell. The more I accelerate,
the heavier guilt weighs down on me like a caravan.

Journal 2

Welcome to Wickham,
where daylight’s melodic chirps will give way
to the shrieking child perceiving his own neighbour as a worn witch.
The Cheetah is the swiftest animal of all,
but this boy’s dash is as fast as one’s glide – the creature wants a meal, the other, safety.
Who knew human bones could handle such high velocity?

“Back in my day we didn’t have all this technology”.
I want to return to my own simpler times, but also desire a future
with not a soul on Earth hungry.
All would be as hushed as a rabbit. Precious. Satisfied.
As appreciated as drinking from a self-titled coffee mug.
To see this grand wish fulfilled, one must take a long kip.
After finishing this poem, hopefully, however boring,
since plump times on Earth are present today.

Have you ever wondered why we endure nightmares?
Maybe the thick dust of books forgotten creep into our mind.
Perhaps the absence of that one close aunt
is that witch outside your home.
I can’t stop my own toes
from scraping through the street, right past the
lamppost, shop, bus-stop.
Only Tom Hanks knows the mindset of the man on a mere track.
There is solitude in our stomach –
Do not be afraid.

Journal 1

Taste
saltfish, root beer, robust, wine, honey, chocolate, apple pie, sugar, rice pudding, caramel, brussel sprouts, nasty, vinegar, rum, tropical

Touch
ice, frigid, grimey, stab, twinge, musky, humid, cotton, Novocaine, coarse, gooey, fire, coarse, rigid, sultry

Smell
perfume, aroma, stench, cocoa, essence, roses, ale, Autumn, vanilla, baked cookies, sewer, corpse, repulsive, hay, musty

Hearing
whimper, chuckle, cackle, croak, groan, hiss, hush, solace, twitter, splatter, faint, booming, bellow, shriek, patter

Sight
inferno, immense, blot, monstrosity, frilly, shattered, crooked, teeny, eensy, repugnant, alluring, snow, wonder, clouds, grimace

Action/Motion
exterminate, betrayal, chaotic, lumber, fluctuate, mosh, rebel, snuff, electric, ferocious

Abstractions
guilt, loss, hope

Other
Adam, Monday, London, Sunday, Wickham, Mona Lisa, Oliver

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