#3 (a musical sonnet)

Something I wrote for a class. Enjoy. Or don’t, it’s up to you.

————–

I hear the beats and tones and flowing rhymes,
The sounds that swing and sing my soul to sleep.
The rhythm of my heart will match the time;
And in that place I know I’ll always keep
The times, the place atop the dusk-lit hill,
Are brought as gifts of peace returned to me;
The seat, the pew, the chapel where I kneel
“Just as I am,” it said, “without one plea.”
Before I go, surrounded by my loves,
I lay me down to bask in lovely skies,
To dream and dwell on glories up above
Where hope lives on and music never dies.
Too soon, the music plays its final chord
And leaves me here, alone, stone-cold, and bored.

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Tilley, my Tilley (a love poem)

I went walking one afternoon down the streets
The “tips” and “taps” of raindrops hitting the ground as perfect beats
Flooding the roads and humble abodes
of those who would not venture out in the storm

Everywhere I looked I did not see men, women, or any other folk,
but only rose-petaled umbrellas and yellow flavored coats
All those figures huddled and crouched in the cold
They looked pathetic, should I be so bold

To me, all those people looked silly
For all I needed was my Tilley

That marvelous hat which sits like a crown
Upon all other hats I must look down
For no cap, visor, headband or beanie
Could ever compare to my wide-brimmed beauty

It keeps out the rain like the best kind of roof
Those nifty straps keep it from flying aloof
It floats like a boat
And blocks UVs with ease
The Tilley will stay with you for life,
And that’s a guarantee!

The Tilley wearer is one of taste, class, and suavity
The hat that can only be described as “persnickety”
For wherever in life I find myself at
All my heart truly needs is a hat

http://www.tilley.com/thumbnail.asp?gender=&extractBy=CategoryId&id=1

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Reclaiming Awesome (a word-choice rant)

The other night, I made some blueberry-banana pancakes. They were awesome.

Only one of those two sentences is correct. Well, they’re both grammatically correct, but there’s still a problem with the second one. The problem is my usage of that word: “awesome.” I feel like this word has become overused to the point of being misused. It only takes a look at where the word comes from to see this.

“Awesome” clearly comes from “awe,” defined as “a feeling of reverential respect mixed with fear or wonder.” Let’s take these one at a time. Do you respect blueberry-banana pancakes? Revere? Do you have fear or wonderment towards them? No, of course not. “Awe” is a feeling one has towards a roaring thunderstorm, the view from a high mountaintop, or, on a much grander scale, God. Something that is awesome is beautiful and powerful. It’s something that is gentle and dangerous. It’s something that fills you with wonder. Look up “awesome” in the thesaurus, and you’ll find it in the company of words like “stunning,” “staggering,” and “dreaded.”

Awesome things can be bad. They can inspire fear. The phrase “awesome destruction” is not contradictory, oxymoronic, or paradoxical. In fact, it’s just as correct as saying “awesome beauty.” Both those things fill you with wonder. They both inspire awe.

Of course, some would argue that words change meanings over time. In general, they’d be correct. The way “awesome” is used has changed, but more specifically it has been watered down. By changing the meaning over time, we really lose the way to express the unique trait that “awesome” can be. It becomes just like a number of other words, any of which do their job well enough with the help of “awesome.” My opening sentence is a true story. I really did make blueberry-banana pancakes, and they were fantastic. Great. Delightful. Superb (well, maybe not. I’ll work on them some more, and hopefully get there…).

But not “awesome.”

From this point on, if you catch me misusing that word, you have permission to punch me in the face. But in a brotherly way.

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Longer (a real conversation)

Me: Hello?

Woman: Hi, I’m looking for the family of Jesus Gomez.

Me: … they don’t have this phone number anymore. You should probably get that changed in your database.

Woman: Oh, I’m sorry, how long have they not had this number?

Me: … a while.

Woman: A couple of weeks?

Me: Longer.

Woman: Months?

Me: Longer.

Woman: A ye —

Me: Longer.

Woman: Longer than a year?

Me: … yeah. Yeah, longer than that.

silence

Woman: … sorry.

click.

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To Be Read Emphatically (a hodgepodge)

I also considered titling this one “This is What I Think About Poetry,” because it would be very accurate. Basically, I’m not a huge fan of poetry. Which is honestly probably because I’m not very good at it. I also should stop writing these introductions to every post. So, here it is:

—————————————————

To Be Read Emphatically (a hodgepodge)
By Thomas White

I walk down the mellowed roadways;
Graven shoes rest upon my feet,
and bashful hedgehogs at my side.
Sunshine mixes with the rain;
Drops of sorrow fall on my fingertips,
and crimson doves on the brim of my hat.

I lie down on the milky hilltop.
Playing a blue guitar,
Silence rips through the confines of winter.
Diseased cattle run smoothly,
always yearning,
learning,
earning,
burning,
but never sneezing.
Drunk dandelions dance upon the dinner table

Alliterations are always awesome,
Like a dragon fighting a robot,
on top of a volcano.
Bold kittens always know which way to go,
and loose fireflies light up no one.
The merry paperclips jump with delight.

I sit alone on the empty stool.
No one even knows,
But this I do know.