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(04/26/18 4:00pm)
I’ve always loved both science and writing. During my senior year of high school, as I wrote my college essays, I tried to find a way to weave the two together into a feasible future for myself: to explain why I love poems that overflow with biological imagery; to try to articulate the parallels I saw in the processes of biology and creating literature. And then when I read the book The Lives of a Cell by Lewis Thomas, I felt like all my efforts were put to shame.
(04/12/18 4:00pm)
(03/29/18 4:00pm)
(03/08/18 5:00pm)
(02/22/18 5:00pm)
(02/08/18 5:00pm)
I was probably about five or six when I first learned that my parents were considered to be “middle aged”. Naturally, I started preparing for their deaths. I vividly remember storing away palm-sized pictures of my mom and dad, faintly reminiscent of yearbook photos, in a jewelry box. I would sometimes take them out and, with a real sense of urgency, try to memorize my parent’s faces. Back then, I only thought about death in terms of its physical aftermath - the photos being a representation of my parents after they go, my memories of their faces being all I needed to keep them with me. A fairly practical way to confront the faint beginnings of my understanding of mortality.
(11/30/17 7:35pm)
Though such poems may appear on paper as blocks of text reminiscent of paragraphs, in no way do they lose any elements of poetry due to their format. Although prose poets are not able to take the same liberties with line breaks and punctuation as verse poets are, they are nonetheless still able to use the same vivid images and language as they would otherwise with verse.
(11/09/17 6:09pm)
In an attempt to be funny, I told her I’d only ever been on the receiving end of rejections before, albeit only from literary journals. She asked me a little bit about why I liked writing and what my plans were for it in the future. I gave her the same speech I would later give in all my college applications, about how I wanted to go into science but didn’t ever want to stop writing and how I loved weaving science and poetry together.
(10/26/17 7:40pm)
When we got to the topic of mortality, she asked whether I had read When Breath Becomes Air, and I said the usual “No, I haven’t, but I really should; I really wish I had more time to read.”
(10/12/17 4:23pm)
It features many unique stylistic and form choices that give it a complex voice. The most glaringly obvious are the indentations which sometimes appear in the middle of his lines. For example, “We’ll never have you said another child [sic].”
(09/28/17 2:06pm)
I didn’t really know what slam poetry was before high school, when a friend and I went to see a performance by Sarah Kay and Phil Kaye, probably two of the most well-known spoken word poets around. I never considered trying spoken word. However, a poem by Sabrina Benaim caught my eye and changed the way I view the power and purpose of poetry — as not just therapeutic but actively empowering.
(09/14/17 3:46pm)
Gawande splits his book into two sections. The first half centers on the changing way societies have come to view old age.
(05/04/17 5:05pm)
Watching the fly search for a way outside, I was reminded of a short story by Virginia Woolf that I had read a long time ago, called “The Death of the Moth” (not a fly, but the same themes apply). In Woolf’s story, the narrator describes watching the world outside from behind her window and being fascinated by the energy that came “rolling in from the fields and the down beyond” and flowed between the trees, the birds and the horses.
(04/20/17 2:38pm)
The following will be my attempt to pitch a new form of poetry that I recently learned about and that I think is amazingly refreshing and innovative.
(04/06/17 8:34pm)
At its core this poem, like all poems, is about emotions. In this particular case the speaker struggles with her mother-in-law’s worsening dementia. However most of the poem doesn’t mention dementia specifically but instead highlights parts of everyday life that seep through the speaker’s resolve and cause her to question the purpose of living. In fact the only time the speaker explicitly refers to the dementia is through the line “she can’t remember who’s alive and dead.”
(03/16/17 2:24pm)
The story is told, to great effect, through a collection of first-person diary entries called “progress reports,” which chronicle Charlie’s changing level of intelligence and consequently his awareness of social cues and emotions. At the beginning of the story, Charlie writes with noticeably poor grammar and spelling.
(03/02/17 4:42pm)
The author, Susan Cain, offers a historical analysis of Western culture’s tendency to favor the extrovert over the introvert, the doer over the thinker. She also proposes that not only have introverts been skimmed over, but that we have been defining “introvert” incorrectly for a long time.
(02/16/17 4:19pm)
Just like “Sestina,” another poem by Bishop which I’ve previously written about, “One Art” also follows a poetic form: the villanelle.
(02/02/17 4:24pm)
Lia, who suffered from severe epilepsy, was constantly jostled by two conflicting forces. Her parents, deeply superstitious and adhering to Hmong traditional beliefs, believed that the hospital’s invasive procedures and medications were harming their daughter’s soul.
(12/08/16 5:42pm)
I first came across the poem “Sestina” by Elizabeth Bishop in my senior-year AP Literature class. At first, having been unfamiliar with the sestina form, I did not recognize that this poem was a sestina at all and was thoroughly confused by all the repetition of images and words.