Artists Among Poets - Emily Cyr

Coming into this class, I didn’t really know what I was anticipating. Poetry has been one of the only forms of artistic expression that I’ve managed to avoid, and this class was my first true exposure to what it’s like outside of the textbook definition that I had to learn in high school. I had thought that with each unit I would be spending countless hours of my day counting syllables and checking my meter in order to get the perfectly pristine and correct poem. Luckily for me, I learned very quickly how wrong I was. Not only did I find myself enjoying the artistic expression of poetry for the first time, I was also fascinated to witness how other people chose to create poetry, and to see what qualities in a written piece they value over others. I also found it difficult to be able to define what qualifies as good poetry. For example, during the surrealist poem unit, I found myself completely baffled as to why anyone would read 4 pages worth of nonsense and qualif

Gershwin's Rhapsody In Blue - An Adaptation

Unsuspecting, life seeks to prevent normalcy. Instilling messages of dangers, no control They continue to demand routines - Fall in love, marry, Reality is fake Unusual events fall, snuck into life Their way is blocked, increasingly inplausible Arguments, breaks, depressed and confused, they are consoled by memory Emotional stability seems to return All except for that sleeping is out of sight, disappeared through a tunnel The sun rises hours ahead of schedule Fear manages to persist And yet, they continue to sail Until - to their surprise - the real world brings comfort There is nothing to fear They may die They may sail into a storm But they are safe with each other, Protected by trust, and love, and normalcy. Source:  https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Truman_Show

Curtain Call The hollow pounding of the wood underneath my terrified shoes I emerge into the screaming light, blind and clouded I speak, the words blast into the air and slap the crowd with ferocity My words slam against the wall, melt into the floorboards and stain the carpets The seats dissolve underneath their tremulous weight Each step I take echoes into the night sky They shoot through my tiny body as I shrink underneath the lights Stale wood and fog asphyxiate me as I struggle to find the words My hands reach out to grasp them but they turn to sand and fall to the floor People trod upon their dust as I slink away from the light The frozen darkness consumes me as I escape My hands return to me as my steps become soft and delicate I prance through the shadowy figures who pass solemnly among me I cannot make out any faces, yet the silhouettes haunt me with wisps of memory Careful not to touch them I move faster towards another light This light is softer, kinder to

Okay, Let's Warm Up For four years I spent my days in the theatre and the choir room And there are things that we did every day Things that sometimes took up a full hour of my time And these are things that one begins to resent after a while For me, particularly, I hated those circle games that relied on rhythm The games where someone started snapping and I had to E-n-u-n-c-i-a-t-e And I had to say, In unison with 40 other people, “If I had been so lucky as to have a steady brother who could talk to me as we are”- I won’t do it all, it’s way too long. I hated those focus games like pass the clap where I had to look someone in the eyes and *pause* *clap* And don’t get me started on P T K F SH, the only vocal warm up where you needed a rain poncho for. The worst ones were the tongue twisters The red leather yellow leather blue leather green leather The unique New Yorks The mommy made me mash my m&m’s And then there was the solfege practice