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poetry

This tag is associated with 3 posts

Caught in the Grip Unyielding

As I’ve experimented with creative writing throughout my high school and college years, one inescapable truth became quickly evident: my writing just drips with melodrama. Everything is overblown and grave, with overwrought adjectives and intense mood. (This is probably why I love Florence + The Machine so much.) With that fact firmly kept in your minds, I present my latest piece of poetry, inspired by a throbbing headache yesterday that I could not shake. Continue reading

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The Afternoon Haiku Challenge

Earlier this morning, my friend Dut┬ámentioned to me that he challenged himself to write five haikus in fifteen minutes, equally motivated by boredom and a desire to enhance his poetry skills. Not one to be left out, I thought this was an excellent idea and took it upon myself to enhance my own burgeoning poetry skills (which are fully on display in this “classic“).

I tweaked the idea a bit, though. Initially, I wrote five haikus in fifteen minutes (three of which are included below), but I also decided to take a theme and write a haiku series on it as well, spending no more than three minutes per poem. I did this once with the colors of the rainbow (Challenge 2 below) and once with a keyword (Challenge 3 below, built around the word “dream”). The results of this little afternoon adventure are below, and I’d love to know what you think, Internet-at-large. Continue reading

Sleepy + Poetry = Goldmine

This morning, I was sleepy at work. Because I was sleepy, I wrote a “poem” (I use the term loosely) in an effort to wake up. This was the result.

A Poem for a Pleasant Summer Morning

Sleepy is little Cory, sitting at his comp;
The tea he just drank is giving him no pomp.

The pleasant mint flavor did nothing to awake
This poor and lazy boy, in need of a good shake.

“Wake up,” he tells himself. “Awaken! Do your work!”
To no avail, he sinks deeper into dark sleep-murk.

He tries to write a poem, to turn his brain back on;
It’s going well, when suddenly, a lit…………..
dsfg’kl;df’hkasjdlghajsdg;hasudghasjgdbhnajk

ASLEEP.

I think I’m going to self-publish a book of my own poetry. I’ll call it A Squirrel Among Lions: The Poetry of Cory Hershberger. I mean, if I can keep my rhyme scheme so beautifully intact and my meter so inspired all the time, how can I not succeed? I smell a new career in my future, and it smells like overblown self-worth and misguided aspirations with hints of vanilla and citrus.

"Lock up your libraries if you like, but there is no gate, no lock, no bolt that you can set upon the freedom of my mind."

-Virginia Woolf, "A Room of One's Own"

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