Hello again, everyone.
I hope your holiday has been relaxing and/or exciting so far. I have finished reading all of your portfolios. It was an interesting exercise to re-read the stories and poems you submitted this semester, in their revised forms, and among those I had not already seen were plenty of surprising and entertaining bits. I will be emailing you individually with full comments on your work in the next couple of weeks (if you don't hear from me by the time the new semester begins, please contact me).
The part of evaluation I like the least is assigning grades, but I've done it anyway. You can see your own grade, broken down by participation, presentation, commenting, and portfolio, on Blackboard. Just go to www.qc.cuny.edu, click on Blackboard, and log in.
Overall, I was impressed by your creativity and by the quality of much of the writing I've seen this semester. In most cases, if you didn't get a mark in the A range, it's because your effort/participation in the course was somewhat lacking, either in class or online. Thomas Edison supposedly said that genius is one percent inspiration and ninety-nine percent perspiration. The same applies in this course, as in most courses. You're welcome to email me if you have any questions or qualms.
Happy 2009 and best of luck in the next semester.
Corey
Saturday, January 3, 2009
Tuesday, December 16, 2008
A Man
A Man
What does a man look for in a woman/girlfriend?
This is a question that roams the minds of women today and everyday.
Is it being; a model, having the brains, beauty, talent, being religious, being a clean freak, knowing your way around the kitchen or just a woman who can take care of herself and is independent? Who knows? I don’t even think men know what they are looking for? The second question is , how many men realize the importance of their wives or their girlfriends when they do have one. Men today try to be the best during their times of courtship and after it all, they become a totally different person, transforming everything that the women loved about them, making the women ask ; Was it all just fake? Was he pretending just to get me in bed? Was it just a phase to get a woman? What was it? Why can’t we all just be ourselves from the beginning and save ourselves the heartache and pain that comes along with it in the end of a messy relationship…..
What does a man look for in a woman/girlfriend?
This is a question that roams the minds of women today and everyday.
Is it being; a model, having the brains, beauty, talent, being religious, being a clean freak, knowing your way around the kitchen or just a woman who can take care of herself and is independent? Who knows? I don’t even think men know what they are looking for? The second question is , how many men realize the importance of their wives or their girlfriends when they do have one. Men today try to be the best during their times of courtship and after it all, they become a totally different person, transforming everything that the women loved about them, making the women ask ; Was it all just fake? Was he pretending just to get me in bed? Was it just a phase to get a woman? What was it? Why can’t we all just be ourselves from the beginning and save ourselves the heartache and pain that comes along with it in the end of a messy relationship…..
frustrated
Frustrated
Hated by all, loved by none. A cliché it seems, but how true it is no one realizes. Being blamed for everything that goes wrong might seem impossible for an outsider to understand, however for me it happens so very often. How can one person be so wrong? And is it ever possible to do anything right? Or is it just the other party, who blames all their mistakes on me in every way possible? Why does this happen to me and will it every change? Will this hurtful feeling ever leave or will it always be there upon times of recalling these specific memories. I just wish it can stop and one day I can speak up for myself and be a stronger individual who fights for the truth and what I believe in.
Hated by all, loved by none. A cliché it seems, but how true it is no one realizes. Being blamed for everything that goes wrong might seem impossible for an outsider to understand, however for me it happens so very often. How can one person be so wrong? And is it ever possible to do anything right? Or is it just the other party, who blames all their mistakes on me in every way possible? Why does this happen to me and will it every change? Will this hurtful feeling ever leave or will it always be there upon times of recalling these specific memories. I just wish it can stop and one day I can speak up for myself and be a stronger individual who fights for the truth and what I believe in.
Narrative poem......The Game
Waking down this grainy road,
The yellow eyed cat makes it way,
Makes his way into my mind,
Slowly collecting the black marbles,
So he can play a game with the mice,
I know he cheats in his game,
He’s always the winner and the mice are his victims to consequence.
Around me I see no leaves on any tree,
Except one, One holds as the breath of the wind attempts to loosen his grip.
It fights and wishes to hold onto it’s tree,
The wind laughs and slashes the leaf,
The cat laughs as well and calls him a fool,
The battle had been won by the wind,
As the corpse fell to the ground with its brothers and sisters.
I reach the willow tree I’ve been searching for.
Yellow it is as the cat’s eyes.
A little boy races around my mind,
Smiles and I watch how his eyes shine as he sees his new toy truck.
I watch him play on the road.
I hear the roaring of the machine,
His eyes shined against the crimson road,
I’m sorry
The cat gnaws at me and asks for his final marble.
I didn’t forget, what I told him as I place the dark stern of a deathly flower in where
my words have escaped.
I’m sorry,
I pull and release.
Thinking of that little boy.
The cat collects his marble and smiles, “I’ve won once
again”.
The yellow eyed cat makes it way,
Makes his way into my mind,
Slowly collecting the black marbles,
So he can play a game with the mice,
I know he cheats in his game,
He’s always the winner and the mice are his victims to consequence.
Around me I see no leaves on any tree,
Except one, One holds as the breath of the wind attempts to loosen his grip.
It fights and wishes to hold onto it’s tree,
The wind laughs and slashes the leaf,
The cat laughs as well and calls him a fool,
The battle had been won by the wind,
As the corpse fell to the ground with its brothers and sisters.
I reach the willow tree I’ve been searching for.
Yellow it is as the cat’s eyes.
A little boy races around my mind,
Smiles and I watch how his eyes shine as he sees his new toy truck.
I watch him play on the road.
I hear the roaring of the machine,
His eyes shined against the crimson road,
I’m sorry
The cat gnaws at me and asks for his final marble.
I didn’t forget, what I told him as I place the dark stern of a deathly flower in where
my words have escaped.
I’m sorry,
I pull and release.
Thinking of that little boy.
The cat collects his marble and smiles, “I’ve won once
again”.
ghazals
Ghazals
As entwined as the lovers Radha and Krishna,
I long for that which is simply everlasting.
The sound of happiness has been taken away,
Not a smile but a tear instead is here.
Red roses lying across the bed,
Realizing that one day I would also be dead.
I want to remember you, even if it’s the last thing I do,
I want to reunite with you, I know that is true.
As entwined as the lovers Radha and Krishna,
I long for that which is simply everlasting.
The sound of happiness has been taken away,
Not a smile but a tear instead is here.
Red roses lying across the bed,
Realizing that one day I would also be dead.
I want to remember you, even if it’s the last thing I do,
I want to reunite with you, I know that is true.
A woman
The Woman
If my eyes have gone blind from this news,
Of pantyhose, motel trips and latex switched,
It would be of no surprise.
A harlot’s promise can not be kept.
If I knew the twisted vines that rested in your head,
I would have never taken that step.
Marriage is only a fool’s request,
A harlot’s promise cannot be kept.
Of pantyhose, motel trips and latex switched.
And my blood rushed to skin you alive,
And make you hang like a doll n your back.
A harlot’s a witch in disguise of
Pantyhose, motel trips and latex switched.
My blood would rush,
Break through gates that have been open.
This goddess harlot of pantyhose, motel trips and latex switched.
Choose many and me.
If my eyes have gone blind from this news,
Of pantyhose, motel trips and latex switched,
It would be of no surprise.
A harlot’s promise can not be kept.
If I knew the twisted vines that rested in your head,
I would have never taken that step.
Marriage is only a fool’s request,
A harlot’s promise cannot be kept.
Of pantyhose, motel trips and latex switched.
And my blood rushed to skin you alive,
And make you hang like a doll n your back.
A harlot’s a witch in disguise of
Pantyhose, motel trips and latex switched.
My blood would rush,
Break through gates that have been open.
This goddess harlot of pantyhose, motel trips and latex switched.
Choose many and me.
deep image poem
Mirror
Looking into the mirror for a reflection of my life.
A scarred image makes a place in my head.
Everything so perfect, yet so misplaced.
I looked in the mirror for the perfect image,
Only to know that it was only a dream.
Looking into the mirror for a reflection of my life.
A scarred image makes a place in my head.
Everything so perfect, yet so misplaced.
I looked in the mirror for the perfect image,
Only to know that it was only a dream.
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