My Two Cents on Season Two of 'Game of Thrones'

If you don't already know, Game of Thrones, HBO's stunningly dark and gritty fantasy, adapted from George R.R. Martin's A Song of Ice and Fire series, is returning for its second season tonight at 9 PM. And my, what a great season it promises to be.

Notebook: Drifting

Here's another poem from the portfolio. I decided to try embedding a video/audio file of me reading this poem. It should be up relatively soon. Enjoy!

Drifting

Thinking about her is like a belly flop.
As the memory of the Godiva curls atop her head
floats past the pool of my vision,
I can feel myself jumping,
launching my body from the spring-board,
a human rocket
shot from Bobby’s backyard mortar,
kicking off my sandals as if they were my smoke-trail.

Notebook: His Room

The third poem from my final portfolio from winter quarter. This one is about the passage of time and a boy's room. It's a bit longer of a poem. Tell me what you think!

His Room

I. The Before

The room is empty space
all four corners vacant
of sofas, tables, lights,
anything.
Michelangelo must have felt the same
when he gazed up at the vaulted ceilings
The weight of all the apostolic succession
glowering down at him – waiting.

Notebook: Sailing with No Wind

Another poem from my final portfolio. This was one of my favorite ones to work on because it's based on a true experience from the summer of 2010, the summer before college. It was a great time and I hope this poem really captures that story. Enjoy, and tell me what you think!

Sailing with No Wind

We glide across the lake,
the water green from bubbling algae
and wandering strands of duckweed
as if mustached alligators were swimming about.
We race our friends’ canoes,
taking turns standing at the bow,
pretending to be Kate Winslet
though no one wanted to be Leo.

Notebook: Tongues

Winter quarter is pretty much over and I wanted to share some of the poems that I included in my final portfolio. This poem is called "Tongues" and if it's a little bewildering, don't worry! I think it's supposed to be. I'd love to hear what you think!

Tongues

A coiled, yellow snake sleeps inside my mouth,
in the hollow back of my throat.

Sometimes it remembers,
somehow, the tropical, muggy mess
somewhere in the Pacific,
where the other serpents first articulated
their hisses.

Notebook: Summer

Hey, reader. It's been a while, I know. I've spent a lot of time elsewhere on the Internet, keeping busy with the life, but I thought I'd swing by my poor, dilapidated blog and leave a gift for those faithful followers who actually decide to check out Half-Blaked every now and then.

The following is a poem I wrote for the poetry workshop class I'm taking this quarter. I have to admit, this has been the best class I've taken at Ohio University yet. I've learned so much about writing, poetry, and myself and have grown as a writer so much already. And it's only midterm week!

Anyways, note that this poem, like all my poems, is a draft. It may be edited, changed, deleted (hopefully not this) at any whim. Poetry is living art and the best writing comes with revision. Please, enjoy it while it's here and tell me what you think! I mean, I'm baring my soul here!

Summer 

I love a summer girl whose feathered tresses,
like a gilded crown atop her head –
straw spun into gold –
strangle my finger.

I Want to Be a 'Mad Man'...

Not really, but I have been watching the show for the past week and I just cannot stop. There is a certain glamour and allure to the high life Mad Men presents as typical of the '60s, mired as it is in the blood and sweat of sexism, racism, and other numerous -isms. The characters are terrible, terrible people, but they are so transfixing to watch.