goldvermilion87: (Default)

Thoroughly cleaning the Kitchen and bathroom:  120minutes

Vacuuming the whole house: 75 minutes

Rearranging all the furniture:  35 minutes.

Watching 10 people react to the ending of "The Great Game":  PRICELESS!

Ummm...I guess I should say "timeless"

Whatever.

Reminder:  If you haven't seen Sherlock yet, the first episode airs on PBS Mystery this Sunday evening.  :-)
goldvermilion87: (Default)

Thoroughly cleaning the Kitchen and bathroom:  120minutes

Vacuuming the whole house: 75 minutes

Rearranging all the furniture:  35 minutes.

Watching 10 people react to the ending of "The Great Game":  PRICELESS!

Ummm...I guess I should say "timeless"

Whatever.

Reminder:  If you haven't seen Sherlock yet, the first episode airs on PBS Mystery this Sunday evening.  :-)
goldvermilion87: (Default)
I tried to write a poem to contribute to MrsPencil's Moor Verse on fanfiction.net.  This was the bizarre result:




Tic(k)s

Each month with one pipette I dose my pup,
My Arthur, with some liquid Frontline Plus ™
To kill the ticks that on his blood would sup,
And induce lyme, and produce scabs and pus.
Just so, I wish, had Doyle destroyed the “tic”
That crept into a country doctor’s prose
And made what had been perfect meter sick
And made the hopeful fangirl shout, “O NOES!”
Perhaps if I had understood sprung rhythm
I would’ve done a Hopkins with these words
But since I don’t, I can do nothing with ‘em
That’s not (me-TER-ic-AL-ly) for the birds
     If only in iambs did the words resound:
     “They were the footprints of a giant hound!”



(Just in case you haven't memorized lines from The Hound of the Baskervilles:  Dr. Mortimer says "They were the footprints of a gigantic hound!" which is most emphatically not iambic pentameter.  *sigh*)

(Also, the "y" in "only" in the penultimate line should be elided with "in".  I have to defend my meter.  :-D)
 


goldvermilion87: (Default)
I tried to write a poem to contribute to MrsPencil's Moor Verse on fanfiction.net.  This was the bizarre result:




Tic(k)s

Each month with one pipette I dose my pup,
My Arthur, with some liquid Frontline Plus ™
To kill the ticks that on his blood would sup,
And induce lyme, and produce scabs and pus.
Just so, I wish, had Doyle destroyed the “tic”
That crept into a country doctor’s prose
And made what had been perfect meter sick
And made the hopeful fangirl shout, “O NOES!”
Perhaps if I had understood sprung rhythm
I would’ve done a Hopkins with these words
But since I don’t, I can do nothing with ‘em
That’s not (me-TER-ic-AL-ly) for the birds
     If only in iambs did the words resound:
     “They were the footprints of a giant hound!”



(Just in case you haven't memorized lines from The Hound of the Baskervilles:  Dr. Mortimer says "They were the footprints of a gigantic hound!" which is most emphatically not iambic pentameter.  *sigh*)

(Also, the "y" in "only" in the penultimate line should be elided with "in".  I have to defend my meter.  :-D)
 


goldvermilion87: (Default)
According to my records, this is the first thing I wrote in 2001, and I wrote it on my own initiative.  It may have dated around the  time that my dad and I had a little fight over Spiders, and their place in the world.  My reaction to the spider is very simple:  KILL KILL KILL!  My father's reaction to the spider is also very simple:  OBSERVE OBSERVE OBSERVE!  (You know, that just doesn't have the same force as kill kill kill...but I will let it stay to preserve parallelism.)  My dad will leave spiderwebs in the weirdest places because he thinks the spiders are absolutely fascinating--including in the house.  He would scold me if I killed spiders IN THE HOUSE!  Anyway, we made a deal that I would never kill spiders outside the house, and he would never give me a hard time (i.e. throw spiders at me...yes...he did threaten to do that...).  I have held to my side of the bargain ever since.

Anyway,  I don't know if that's why I wrote this poem, but I did write it. 

I don't know when I actually began to grasp the concept of meter.  I certainly knew iambic, trochaic, dactyllic, and anapestic even in seventh grade, but as this poem shows, I wasn't able to apply the concept to real life.  Oh well.


goldvermilion87: (Default)
According to my records, this is the first thing I wrote in 2001, and I wrote it on my own initiative.  It may have dated around the  time that my dad and I had a little fight over Spiders, and their place in the world.  My reaction to the spider is very simple:  KILL KILL KILL!  My father's reaction to the spider is also very simple:  OBSERVE OBSERVE OBSERVE!  (You know, that just doesn't have the same force as kill kill kill...but I will let it stay to preserve parallelism.)  My dad will leave spiderwebs in the weirdest places because he thinks the spiders are absolutely fascinating--including in the house.  He would scold me if I killed spiders IN THE HOUSE!  Anyway, we made a deal that I would never kill spiders outside the house, and he would never give me a hard time (i.e. throw spiders at me...yes...he did threaten to do that...).  I have held to my side of the bargain ever since.

Anyway,  I don't know if that's why I wrote this poem, but I did write it. 

I don't know when I actually began to grasp the concept of meter.  I certainly knew iambic, trochaic, dactyllic, and anapestic even in seventh grade, but as this poem shows, I wasn't able to apply the concept to real life.  Oh well.


goldvermilion87: (Default)
Some of my creative writing was inspired by my own fevered brain.  Some of my creative writing was inspired by a desire to get an "A" on an assignment.  This poem falls into the latter category.   I bet you can't guess what the assignment was:

Mr. Bumble )


I don't know if I got an A.  I'm guessing so, because teachers are nice when it comes to creative writing.  Well, my teacher was.

 

goldvermilion87: (Default)
Some of my creative writing was inspired by my own fevered brain.  Some of my creative writing was inspired by a desire to get an "A" on an assignment.  This poem falls into the latter category.   I bet you can't guess what the assignment was:

Mr. Bumble )


I don't know if I got an A.  I'm guessing so, because teachers are nice when it comes to creative writing.  Well, my teacher was.

 

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