Editing Overview

The pictures included are extras from my trip, and are included as many indicate inspirations for my poems. I am now wrapping up my project, writing my last poems and editing my poetry. 

These are the websites I used to reference and research poetry:

http://www.poets.org/ 

http://www.thepoetsgarret.com/list.html

Poetry At Ten Thousand Feet is intended to be my last poem. It is a sestina, considered to be one of the most difficult types of poetry to write. Based on the ends words (pine, fog, reaching, marble, sky, beginning) the thirty nine line, seven stanza poem is supposed to follow this pattern: ABCDEF FAEBDC CFDABE ECBFAD DEACFB BDFECA B-A D-C F-E (with the final three lines having end words within the phrase as well as at the end). This poem was inspired by the trip as a whole.

The Pine is a Monchielle Stanza, a type of poetry created by Norwegian poet Jim T. Henriksen. It has 4 stanzas, each with 5 lines, with each line having six syllables. The third and fifth lines must rhyme. This poem is inspired by my love for pine trees, especially white pine.

Poetry at Ten Thousand Feet

Upon the ridge, the watching pine,

Does guard above us rolling fog.

Blanketing the saplings reaching,

Until the ground does turn to marble.

Above, the stormy ashen sky,

Does beckon for a new beginning.

Reminding of a day beginning,

As sunlight streamed through open pine,

For once we see a crystal sky.

Behind us, rock in shrouded fog.

Cappuccino ground dusted with marble,

Path before us, altitude reaching.

As though by chance, temperature reaching,

As we set out, a day beginning,

Our footsteps like chisels on new marble. 

Trees shift to welcome, aspen to pine,

An open sun clears mourning fog,

Soft white flakes, weeping of the sky.

Above and within resides the sky.

Further we climb, summit reaching.

Writer's Block fades like early fog,

Listen close, a phrase beginning.

Built upon the jacks: flap, whiskey and pine.

Set in mental stone of marble.

Woe for us, the sun's gaze turns marble,

Blue, blue-grey, now gray, an icy sky.

The wind does whistle through the pine

Bare, scarred branches above us reaching.

Around us, a flurry beginning,

Aspirations lost to the fog.

Yet inspiration does not flee through fog.

No Block descends like Headsman's marble

"Upon the ridge," the poem's beginning.

Above us lies an empty sky.

Even as icy fingers reaching,

We trudge ahead for solace in the pine.

And still the fog does fill the pine,

Like veins of marble reaching.

Yet pen's beginning protects inside sky.

The Pine

The Pine catches no tears

Instead, letting them fall.

On them, do we rely?

Substitute connection

In forests we're not shy.

The Pine does not warm us

Heat slipping through needles.

Never hot to our palms,

Though we try yet again

Yet under, we are calm.

The Pine will not live on

Won't grow old together.

Worn 'way by wind and ice,

As all fall in the end

Dead boughs will not entice.

But here, the Pine still lives

A home under branches.

Peace like dawn's-light moments,

Tension taken away

Safe within Pine's silence.

Editing and Final Poems (24th-28th)

St. Croix Falls Overview

Today was our first day of adventure back in Minnesota. We hiked around the St. Croix Falls area, and while I do not know the elevation, I do know that it is much, much, much lower than that of my previous hikes. 

As I Walk This Path Of Brown is a Go Vat, a Cambodian style of poetry. The traditional Go Vat is an eight syllable per line couplet, followed by an eight syllable line that ends with a repeating word. I have chosen to write a contemporary Go Vat, which allows for looser syllable counts and internal rhymes. 

The River is a type of Spanish poetry called a glosa. This form elaborates upon the first couplet, called a cabeza, by repeating the first line of the couplet with the first line of the first stanza (and second line as second line, respectively). While the syllable count does not matter, I have chosen a descending syllable count, where the first line of a stanza is 10 syllables, the second is nine, the third is eight and the fourth line is seven syllables. This poem is inspired by the St. Croix river, which currently several feet higher than usual.

The Road Taken is a joke poem crafted by my father and I while we forged several trails across the cliffs of the St. Croix River. Finally, reaching the real path, we chose to take it, as we were tired by having trees, brambles and large rocks in our way. The poem is an altered version of Robert Frost's The Road Not Taken, and uses the first and last stanzas of Frost's poem.

As I Walk This Path Of Brown

As I walk this path of brown

My feet, like paws, make near no sound

The air around me steeps with pine.

The rusted-padded ground below

Is comforted by blanket snow

Once tall, now low, a bed of pine.

I cannot see the future near

Like page and pen, my choices steer

Wiping off fear, this force of pine.

The River

The river curls bloated, a snake sunning,

Lacking alluvial storm surge cunning.

The river curls, a snake sunning,

Having just gorged itself on snowmelt.

Its glinting scales riparain

Pulling on white caps of sleep.

Lacking alluvial storm surge cunning,

No longer do its teeth close rapid.

Snaking through with rills of slumber

Its oxbow mouth flaccid.

The Road Taken

Two roads diverged in a grassy wood,

And happy I could not travel both.

And be so tired, long I stood,

And looked down one as far I could

To where it became boulder undergrowth.

Two roads diverged in a wood, and I --

I took the easier one,

Because I was lazy.

St. Croix Falls (May 23rd)

Tennessee Pass Overview

Today was our last day of hiking/high adventure in Colorado. We started with a hike to the Interlaken historic resort at Twin Lakes, while also hiking the Colorado Trail. The elevation of our first hike was around 12,000 feet. Our second hike was much shorter. We planned to hike the Tennessee Pass completely, but were prevented by several feet of snow. Tennessee Pass's elevation is 10,200 feet. Our last hike was through a mining town abandoned in the 1970s, a ghost town. This elevation was around 9,000 feet.

Purposeless Life Makes Me Antsy is a huitain, a French form of poetry in which there are eight lines with eight syllables each. This is inspired by massive ant mounds on the Tennessee Pass, along with the child-like joy of stepping on ant hills.

6'' of Tetanus is a free verse poem inspired by the ghost town. the form of free verse was chosen to model the surrealist mood of walking through an area that was once obviously inhabited by humans, but now lies empty. The town, centered around a zinc mine, is heavily vandalized, with almost every window broken and wall tagged (spray painted). This poem is meant to juxtapose imagery with desolation to create a confusing and disorienting mood.

Purposeless Life Makes Me Antsy

What is the worst thing in the world?

Not war, but existential ants.

Purpose searching, around they twirl,

Homes in disrepair, so entranced,

Future lost, they prefer to dance.

In aid, I pledge my blood and bone,

To shock awake, no second chance.

"Work, or die by stick, snow and stone!"

6'' of Tetanus

I'm standing on 6'' of tetanus

                                      in a place where the walls tell stories

scattered drill bits, abandoned lives               

a company desk.

The artist offers his condolences,

her paint shadowing a bare crib-corner             

A frozen Chevrolet curls near the gymnasium,

which echos of Converse treads

The glass box office, 

                                  a silent cymbal for hope

has settled for lesser cut-palm dreams

But the generator stands at attention, waiting for the switch

as the devious crystal tube trapt metal treasures tireless dusted kerosene                              

a switch silent evermore

Tennessee Pass (May 21st)

Colorado Trail Overview

Today we hiked Colorado Trail (No. 1776) and Cottonwood Trail. Colorado Trail eventually branched into Cottonwood Trail, which we followed until the snow became too difficult to handle while day-hiking.We turned around at a massive rock formation, not before we enjoyed some snow bouldering. The elevation of the trails was about 11,000 feet at the trail head and 12,000 feet where we turned around to head down the mountain. Both of these trails are located on Mount Harvard, the third tallest mountain in Colorado.

Beaver Dam Estuary is a poem developed by Fibonacci, called a Fibonacci poem. The poem follows the Fibonacci sequence, with each line containing a certain number of syllables. Line one has one syllable, as does line two. Line three has two syllables etc until line ten, which contains 55 syllables. Unfortunately, the blog post is not wide enough to accommodate the entirety of the poem, so lines were broken up. Lines 7-8 are supposed to be read as a single, unbroken line. The same goes for lines 9-10, and lines 11-13.

Aspen Forest is by far the most difficult poem (to both write and make coherent sense) that I have written so far. It is a Rhopalic poem. In this poetic form, the first word of a line is monosyllabic, There is no restriction on line length or number, although lines past five words are extremely difficult. The fourth word of line four, "forestory," is a combination between "forest" and "story." As a result, it should be pronounced like "forestry" with an extra "o," or "forest-oar-y."

Beaver Dam Estuary

Gray

Ice

Blue-grey
Reflecting

Walking carefully

Each step laid with same care as sticks

Desperately hoping to not step through their craftsmanship

Forward trodding, each footprint reinforced by experience and care, young sprouts in sight

Only for the gray muses to cut this journey short, a golden flash, a silent snip, a louder "crunch!" as snowmelt rushes to greet my toes

To wonder, did they find this amusing? Though their home has been broken, I still hear the wind-echos chortling, as ancient mud stirred and settled and tiny silver smelt from a blacksmith long ago escape, I embrace the grey

Aspen Forest

Like matchsticks, sentinels unwavering

Snow pickets, thicketry

Flash! Bygones vibrantly introspective

Drifts falling violently, forestory
Wind listens, silently

White, thinly decisive, motionlessly

Colorado Trail (May 20th)

A-Basin Overview

The original plan was to hike Mount Elbert, the tallest mountain in Colorado, on Tuesday, May 19th. Unfortunately, rather than pristine hiking conditions, we were given a foot of snow and several major blizzards throughout the course of the day. Instead, we chose to ski Arapahoe Basin (A-Basin). A-Basin is situated at approximately 13,000 feet, and even with new snow, the skiing was still challenging. The poems of this day are inspired by the snow-laden nature, along with several experiences on the mountain.

Glasses is a pantoum, following the line order of 1234 2546 5768 7183. This particular poem is inspired by our final run of the day, from summit to base. The conditions were whiteout, which means that the blizzard around obscures light and it is very hard to see. So hard, in fact, that both my goggles and glasses failed to provide any visual aid as we hurtled down the mountain in an attempt to out race an incoming storm.

May, A La Mode is a tanka, a Japanese form very similar to the haiku. The syllables per line proceed as follows: 57577. This poem is inspired by the effects of snow on a May Colorado day. The pine trees were iced, and the roads were contrasts between brown mud and white snow. finally, several of the blizzards that day provided snow in the form of ice spheres, rather than crystalline flakes.

Glasses

They told me to wear them, so I could see

To teach me to appreciate each line

With no regard for who I was to be

Reanimating machine as divine

To teach me to appreciate each line

A clearer world to see, not hear, the lark

Reanimating machine as divine

Yet when the time came, I was left in dark

A clearer world to see, not hear, the lark

To draw a line between the earth and sky

Yet when the time came, I was left in dark

As howling winds smudged lines, a whiteout nigh

To draw a line between the earth and sky

They told me to wear them, so I could see

As howling winds smudged lines, a whiteout nigh

With no regard for who I was to be.

May, A La Mode

Dippin' Dots rain down

Forming huddled snowshoe rounds

Tongue catch, flavor's ice

Fog blankets nonpar'el trees

Cappuccino grounds whiten

Arapahoe Basin (A-Basin) (May 19th)

Garden of the Gods Overview

Chosen as an introductory hike in Colorado, we hiked the Garden of the Gods on May 18th. The Garden of the Gods is a park of unique and massive red metamorphic and sedimentary rock formations, located just outside Colorado Springs at an elevation of 6,500 feet above sea level. The rocks, surrounding vegetation and looming mountains on the horizon inspired the day's two poems.

Looking Upon Mount Harvard is a Petrachan sonnet, which is the type of sonnet that preceded Shakespeare. It is a very formal form, following the rhyme pattern "abba abba cdecde"

For a Short While is an Ars Poetica poem. This form, first introduced by Horace, is where the author develops a poem to illuminate what poetry is. In essence, it is a poem about what a poem should be.

Looking Upon Mount Harvard

In front of us, mighty, did make us shrink,

The dark mountain behold, with clouded white.
Yet ignorant of lowland's drowning plight,
Did remind me of untouched page and ink.

A private world cliche: "above the stink,"
That cloud of arrogance, eternal night.
To rise above others, to gain false height,
Yet in the solitude of gold they sink.

How laughable, the halls are the mountain,
"Superior" darkness in pure marble.
Impossible to join or leave behind,
To break ancient tradition stone is sin.
Ivy and crushing clouds consume the soul,
To leave and conquer, never joy to find.

For A Short While

A poem should not be an Airplane

               lifted up by its own conventions

drifting precariously between drafts and drops.

As if to carve its name into the ever fluid

dripping clouds.

Nor should it be the wings upon it,

                        tarnished silver reflecting grey existence

held in place, as if to ensure a stable future

A poem should not be a Tree

                              mighty on earth yet lowly to the heavens

branches forever reaching but never

quite grasping.

Nor should it be the fruit upon it

                       more sapphire than the snow below

only for its true colors to be carried away by a touch

A poem should not be a Mountain

             forever there, forever to be

walked upon.

Nor should it be the rocks upon it

                     deteriorating at the wind's critique

as with each whim, it loses more of its face 

No, a poem should be a vapor trail,

                   left behind as a signature upon the lapis

                for a short while.

Existing only until the sun catches up.

A poem should be a water droplet,

trapt between green scales

             for a short while.

Catching the moonlight within its gaze.

A poem should be a path,

        steps carved into the stone

             for a short while.

Leading to the Raven's sun and the Bodhi's branches.

A poem should never become

"was" or "will be."

A poem should only be,

            for a short while.

Garden of the Gods (May 18th)

Overview

This blog is the project for my Edina High School May Term. My adviser is Ms Martha Cosgrove.
I will be exploring poetic forms in relation to the beauty and nature of the Colorado Rockies. I will be engaging in nature by hiking and spending time on several mountains, all over 10,000 feet. I plan on writing new types of poetry (for me), such as pantoum and rondeau, along with old forms as well (renga, sonnet).
Originally, we planned to hike Colorado's 14ers, 14,000 foot mountains (as measured from sea level), with a focus on the Sawatch Range 14ers. Unfortunately, Colorado recently got several feet of snow, making it both difficult and dangerous to hike our intended routes. As a result, we will be hiking different mountains than originally planned, and will be engaging in nature in other ways.