Sickness

Since everyone has been falling sick lately, I think that it is my duty as a Literature student to find a poem related to it; under the theme of Pain, Injury and Illness (for me, that is). In a way, you can see Plath's voice shimmering through the poem:

Motion Sickness

I am tired of the heave and swell, the deep lunge in the belly, the gut's dumb show of dance and counterdance, sway and pause, the pure jig of nausea in the pit of a spinning world. Where the body moves, the mind often lags, clutching deck, anchor, the gray strap that hangs like the beard of death from the train's ceiling, the mind lost in the slow bulge of ocean under the moon's long pull or the endless coil of some medieval argument for the existence of God or the dream of the giant maze that turns constantly in and in on itself and there is no way out . . . I am sick and tired of every rise and fall of the sun, the moon's tedious cycle that sucks blood from the thighs of women and turns teenage boys into wolves prowling the streets, hungry for motion. Let me be still, let me rest in some hollow of space and time far from the seasons and that boring, ponderous drama of day and night. Let me sleep in the heart of calm and dream placidly of birds frozen in the unmoving air of eternity and the earth grown immobile in its centrifugal spin, and God motionless as Lazarus in his tomb before he is raised dizzily to fall again, to rise, to fall. B H Fairchild

If you notice the structure of the lines, it waves inwards and outward, mimicking peristaltic motions... Hoped you all like that, I rather liked it (: The allusion to religious figures and God seem rather blasphemous, but there is more to it than meets the eye. Sorry I can't meet the analyse it fully, don't really have the time now.

God Bless (:
Nicole K.

Peanut Butter... AGAIN

Hihihi (: (:

Since we're on the subject of peanut butter, I have found another really cute poem on peanut butter :D It's a Children's poem, but I think it's rather sweet..

I'm Getting Sick of Peanut Butter

I look inside my lunch box,
and, oh, what do I see?
A peanut butter sandwich
staring glumly back at me.

I know I had one yesterday,
and, yes, the day before.
In fact, that's all I've eaten
for at least a month or more.

I'm sure tomorrow afternoon
the outlook's just as bleak.
I'll bet I'm having peanut butter
every day this week.

I'm getting sick of peanut butter
sandwiches for lunch.
Why can't I have baloney
or potato chips to munch?

I wish I had lasagna
or a piece of pumpkin pie.
Another day of peanut butter
might just make me cry.

But still this awful sandwich
is in every lunch I take.
You see, it is the only thing
that I know how to make.

--Kenn Nesbitt

This boy should read Zen and the Art of Peanut Butter (: Hope that cheered you all up! And yes, it's not exactly ample material to analyse, but I think it's cute.

Nicole K.

Zen and the Art of Peanut Butter

Hihihi (:

Since most of us are pretty stressed out over the looming Promos, I decided that we see more humour in our current situation and just laugh off our stress :D (OK, yes, this is pretty much a rip-off from today's Compass Programme; but at least it shows that I was paying attention!)

This is probably one of my favourite poems of all times, I hope you all like it too!

Zen and the Art of Peanut Butter
First, seek the most direct path
leading to the pantry.
Focus on the jar itself.
Reveal the contents
with a reverse spiral motion.
Delicately insert the knife.
Delicately withdraw the knife.
As if applying salve
to the infinite being himself,
spread the contents
on the leavened slice.
Attentively lick the remainder
from the blade,
and throw the sandwich away.

By W.G. McDonald

Love love love love this poem, on the peripheral, it seems really simple and has nothing much to it, I mean, it appears to be a poem that talks about how we should take things slow (unlike Singaporeans), but rather, the enjoyment of doing sth that is totally mundane as an art (:

Well, gotta go back to mugging!

God Bless (:

Nicole K.