There’s words I can’t say

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There are words I can’t say and phrases I cannot otter.
So my brain clogs and fills with clutter…
I jumble thoughts and phrases into sentences.
I think therefore I am?
No, I think therefore I write.
I write therefore I am.
Furiously, passionately, maddeningly
I forge the words onto the page.
I forge clarity.
Those once jumbled, now clear words become my truth.
My truth because my essence.
My essence becomes my reality,
And it’s my reality that erupts into my being.

Dreams. They Never Retire.

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Dreams. Some of us have them. Some of us do not. Sometimes. All the time. Somewhere and everywhere. There are sometimes built over time with posters in bed rooms, movies running in our minds, and hope in our hearts. As with some movies, these can take unexpected and sometimes unfortunate turns. Because sometimes we get sick. We forfeit the championship game before the try-outs even start. We hang up our soccer shoes and remember things like the nick names we got while we attempted to fulfill them. Bruiser was my nickname and a part of my dream. Soccer was my sport, defense was my position. Then after eighth grade I got sick, and sophomore year called for no more P.E. period for me. Funny how some dreams bring other ones into light. The dream to create. Write. Compose. To be part of something bigger than yourself. To change views. How to be humble. My junior year I stepped into this new world and new dreams were pressed on fast forward. Dreams. You never really forget your dreams. To be a writer, runner, and Lover. They stay with you as you complete your morning jog, your bacon cheese burger, your chores, your romantic dinner, your fight with your roommate. As much as you try to alienate yourself from them. They call to you. To be social was another dream I never fully held on to but my bubbly personality came through and I have wonderful friends. Love, it seemed to always be slipping from my grasp when finally it seemed it had never existed. Perhaps this is the year. Now on the in-betweens, I’m trying to envision new dreams. Not to replace old ones. To be a smile now. You see funny thing about dreams. They never retire.

Brush it off, and recall – These poems, these memories

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These poems these memories
They boil up with me
Sending me nostalgically
Into what I want to be
Blending words like chemistry
Expressing my life into an expository
Talking about things
Talking about flying with my pair of wings
Talking about new beginnings
Old endings
The reals and the pretend endings
Talking about acting like yourself
Not like anyone else
I dive off the edge
I smash into the ledge
I brush off the pain
I look for whom to blame
And someone who can tame
The wild within me
Before I turn this into the never-ending story
I’ll sign off, still seeking eternal glory!

The method to my “madness” – How I write

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There are a few things (men, politics, and death) that are more complex than the psych behind writing. It is sporadic, impulsive, indiscriminately, timeless, impossible, and delightful. Writing is a journey with stepping stones: great leaps or tiny steps, it’s going forward that’s important. The steps I go through during a writing assignment depend on what kind of time limit there is and what type of essay it is. Is it a poem? Is it a twenty page research paper? I always start brainstorming ideas for the main point of the paper no matter if it is big or small. Ideas and inspiration come to me at the most awkward times (the bus, the bathroom, at a movie). I group together these ideas into a topic before the real work begins.
I usually do not consider my audience too much at this time. I work in such a fashion fervently, and although I know it is for a teacher’s eyes only, I write to a universal audience, hoping all my efforts were not in vain. Poetry is the art form I adore, and I generally can captivate a large audience with. I use elements such as rhyming or repetition in my poetry and in my writing. Another way that I mesmerize the audience is when I write to the sound of classical music. When I write it makes me feel like I am on a journey, and I am taking my audience with me.
Speaking of journeys, the method I take is not organized. Its profile fits only the essay to which it was assigned. My support method behind it is not a method so much as it is a vision. After I research or consider ever angle I deceiver and deduct which is not just the strong point but the one I want to bring to attention. Lists are very helpful way for me to find ideas that work and ideas that don’t such as diction. I must often change, flip and rearrange my wording but syntax is something I don’t feel I achieve too often. The last element which I find related to syntax is the proofreading, which I do. Usually I have a sibling check my work as well and in the past multiple teachers have viewed my writing. I am not too pleasant while hearing criticism, but I will take it and try to spin a better story. As for a four hundred work limit, I am not use to word limits. So checking the word count is now like stopping for gas on my writing journey. I cannot go on to write without it.