Thursday, June 26, 2014

THE OMNISCIENCE: Miles to Go and Do Not Go Gentle

I actually stumbled upon this quote on my AP English midyear exam. Thanks, English Department! I love you all, I really do.
I figured it was high time for another Omni excerpt, given that I've shared a disproportionately large amount of them at Runaway Tales. If you're anxious to read more of Omni, just head over here and take your pick of Omni-related stories.

So, without further ado, I present to you...

Miles to Go Before I Sleep
Do Not Go Gentle

Wednesday, April 23, 2014


Guess whose 450th birthday it is today!

I've writ a special poem for you all
to celebrate the great Bard's day of birth,
four hundred fifty years, not an age small,
that he hath brought us tears, love, war, and mirth.
So if you readers patiently attend,
an ode to Billy Shakespeare I will send.


Saturday, February 22, 2014

The Omniscience: Nevermore

Photoshopped by yours truly. I don't own the words, as they belong to Edgar Allan Poe, nor do I own the picture of the raven. 'Tis from
Since I shared this with the folks at Runaway Tales on LJ, I figured I would share this with you lovely folks on this blog, too. It is Chapter Six of The Omniscience, written from Lilah's perspective, and was initially inspired by the prompt, "all that we see or seem is but a dream within a dream" (a Poe quote), but eventually wound up being more about Poe's The Raven through the very complicated series of events that is the writing process.


Friday, February 7, 2014

New Millennium

Neither is race. Or education, for that matter. Source:, via the Google Machine.
This poem won second place in World Unity Inc.'s 9th Annual Poetry Contest on Diversity and Inequality. To be honest, I think they were looking for something a bit less... challenging of today's world to be in first-place, but hey, as long as there's a nice certificate and recognition for a poem I loved writing, I'm ecstatic. :D

They like me! They really, really like me!
New Millennium

Friday, January 17, 2014

Magnetic Poetry

 As a poet, sometimes it is hard to find the words to express an idea you barely have forming in the back of your head. But sometimes, the words are already given to you, and from there on you can create meaning through arrangement, often yielding unexpectedly beautiful results.

Summary of the above: Poetry magnets are fun.

Magnetic Poetry

"This young electric instrument," created with my Art teacher's poetry magnets.

"His Lordship Drunkard," created with my own Shakespearean poetry magnets. 

Sunday, January 5, 2014

The Ozymandias Exercise

From I pretty much just Google-searched "Ozymandias" and picked the best picture off the top row.
Once upon a time, two friends decided it would be fun to write two different poems on the same subject and publish them both in competition. This happened:

Shelley's Ozymandias

I met a traveller from an antique land
Who said: Two vast and trunkless legs of stone
Stand in the desert. Near them, on the sand,
Half sunk, a shattered visage lies, whose frown,
And wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command,
Tell that its sculptor well those passions read
Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things,
The hand that mocked them and the heart that fed:
And on the pedestal these words appear:
"My name is Ozymandias, king of kings:
Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair!"
Nothing beside remains. Round the decay
Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare
The lone and level sands stretch far away.
Smith's Ozymandias

IN Egypt's sandy silence, all alone,
Stands a gigantic Leg, which far off throws
The only shadow that the Desert knows:—
"I am great OZYMANDIAS," saith the stone,
"The King of Kings; this mighty City shows
"The wonders of my hand."— The City's gone,—
Nought but the Leg remaining to disclose
The site of this forgotten Babylon.

We wonder,—and some Hunter may express
Wonder like ours, when thro' the wilderness
Where London stood, holding the Wolf in chace,
He meets some fragment huge, and stops to guess
What powerful but unrecorded race
Once dwelt in that annihilated place.

About a century later, I decided it would be fun to write my own two versions of Ozymandias--one in French, one as an English paraphrase of the French one. Without further ado, I present:

The (2nd) OZYMANDIAS Exercise