Where the Magic Is - Poetry

Where the Magic Is

This is where the magic is made,

where the magic is real.

 It doesn’t come from wands or spells, but from

 strings and

chords and

threads of melodies sewn together

 by the rat-a-tat-tat of the snare that ensnares your soul and glazes over your eyes

 so you lose sight of the world outside of here,

 outside of this room,

this one fleeting moment in a history of moments,

none of which are as magical and enchanting as this.

 No, you can’t see it, don’t see it

 – or don’t want to? –

but here is where you can hear. Where you hear.

 Hear the passion,

 the hope,

the sheer joie de vivre.

This.

This is perfection,

 this is simplicity,

 complexity,

 cacophony,

free flow,

and harmony.

Harmony.

Harmony because here is where there are no individuals,

 no competition between or among envious souls trying to prove superiority over one another.

No, here is where there is only a one,

 not an I or a me or a you or a my or a him or a her.

No, here is a one, an us, a we,

a home constructed of notes as fine as the lines on which they are written.

Written in the way in which we write of these small moments,

these little bits of precious jewels that will soar

along on our coattails far after this enchantment breaks and we depart for the evening.

But I’m not going to think about the inevitable pop of this silk-thin soap bubble.

 No, I’m here,

 here right now,

 and I am alive,

living for this moment,

living in this moment,

in this magic,

this music,

these soul-bearing stories we share through song and rhyme,

through rhythm and little reason.

This.

This is where the magic happens,

 and it is in our hearts,

our memories,

our ears,

 to remember,

 to listen to on repeat in our minds,

 to never forget.

 Never forget.

 Magic is real, and it lives and lies here, in each of us right now.

 The magic is real, so hold on to it and don’t forget.

 Don’t forget the magic,

the peace,

the harmony,

 the love,

the us.

 Because here, here is where the real magic is.

Out of Tune - Poetry

Out of Tune

When I write you in a song,

I fall in love with the melody of our hearts,

Yours beating next to mine.

Then the song ends and you are no longer an open book,

As you try to play me,

Take me for a whirl,

No rests in your staccato beat.

Only half notes, never whole,

As you only give me pieces of yourself.

We crescendo into yelling,

As our relationship diminuendos

Into only a memory of a tune,

Whistled absentmindedly on a

Nothing-special sort of day.

Picture courtesy of Google Images and http://bonnethouse.wordpress.com.

All rights reserved. All written work on this page is the sole copyright of the author, username Dani, and may not be reprinted or used in any manner whatsoever without written permission from the author. I certify that all work written here is original unless otherwise cited (such as in reference lists, etc.), and is my own. Any questions, comments, concerns, or requests for reprinting can be submitted to bookendreviews@gmail.com for review.

The Specter's Painting - Fiction

"The Specter's Painting" was a short story I wrote my senior year of high school for my Creative Writing class. I submitted it to TeenInk.com, and it was recognized as an Editor's Choice Pick-of-the-Week under the horror genre! Enjoy!

The Specter's Painting

Photo courtesy of Dani

The halls were dank and musty, and Maria could see mold creeping through the corners of the corridor and down the walls. She sighed to herself. She hadn’t realized just how much of a fixer-upper the house she bought was. And of course the real estate agent hadn't pointed out the mold, simply the matching colors of the walls.

She continued down the hallway, brushing cobwebs away while she scrutinized her surroundings for more damage. Her feet creaked against the century-old floorboards, but the sound to her was soothing. It reminded her of her grandfather’s house, the one she would always visit as a child when her parents left her alone yet again. 

Reaping the Meaning Behind Jean Toomer's "Reapers" - Academic Paper

Reapers

Black reapers with the sound of steel on stones

Are sharpening scythes. I see them place the hones

In their hip-pockets as a thing that’s done,

And start their silent swinging, one by one.

Black horses drive a mower through the weeds,

And there, a field rat, startled, squealing bleeds,

His belly close to ground. I see the blade,

Blood-stained, continue cutting weeds and shade.

Jean Toomer

Reaping the Meaning Behind Jean Toomer’s “Reapers”

Jean Toomer was a fabulous poet who embraced America’s “clashing cultures” in his writings (Ramazani 557). Toomer’s expertise did not go unnoticed as he established himself as a powerful poet, perhaps most prominently with his book Cane, which was published in 1923. As a biracial man, he could identify and empathize with both African Americans and Caucasians, heightening his ethos and the impressive strength and meaning behind his poems. His poem “Reapers,” written in 1923, emphasizes the vast cultural differences and inequalities between blacks and whites in America during the time period. He subliminally highlights the poor treatment of blacks through metaphor, symbolism, and other poetic devices.

The poem “Reapers” is an octet consisting of four rhyming couplets. The rhyme scheme is aabbccdd, and the poem is written in iambic pentameter. “Reapers” is only one verse or stanza. Toomer employs many poetic devices to convey his message to the reader. These poetic devices include alliteration, consonance, and imagery. Toomer’s diction also adds to the overall meaning and the impact of the poem on its readers.

On Eastern Philosophy in "Song of Myself" - Academic Paper

On Eastern Philosophy in “Song of Myself”

Malcolm Cowley, editor of the 1986 publication of Leaves of Grass: The First, states that Walt Whitman’s poem “Song of Myself” has many Eastern characteristics, which it does, though Whitman uses them unknowingly. Three of the main points Cowley makes about the mysticism and Eastern influence are Whitman’s thoughts of reincarnation, his identification with his Creator, and his achievement of true knowledge. These ideas can be and are seen throughout the fifty-two chants of “Song of Myself.”

            Reincarnation, also known as metempsychosis, is the rebirth of one’s soul into a different body after one’s previous body dies. The body one’s soul enters in a subsequent incarnation depends on “the actions performed during one incarnation” (Cowley xxi). This idea is known as karma and means that if a person is good and just in his first life, he or she will be reborn in “a higher form” (Cowley xxi). The ability to identify with one’s Creator is another Eastern idea Whitman uses in which one at a certain “point in his spiritual progress…becomes identified with the personal creator of the world illusion” (Cowley xxvii). This means that a person is granted the omnipotence and the omniscience that were once only reserved for the Supreme Being that created the world. This achievement is classified as a person reaching “Brahman” (Cowley xxvii). One of the final Eastern points Cowley identifies in his introduction to “Song of Myself” is the acquisition of true knowledge. True knowledge, according to Eastern philosophy, is the understanding of the divinity of all things through a union with one’s “Self” (xxi). It is allegedly “available to every man and woman, since each contains a divine Self” (xxi).

On Machiavelli and Hobbes - Academic Paper

On Machiavelli and Hobbes

Niccolo Machiavelli, the father of realpolitik, and Thomas Hobbes, political philosophy’s founder, have transcended time as two of the most influential political theorists history has ever seen. Machiavelli writes from a realistic perspective with no fantasies about men and human nature. Hobbes had few fantasies as well, but his ideas on government are a bit more idealistic than Machiavelli’s, and the main factor in most of Hobbes’ arguments is fear. While the two share ideas on human nature, the state of nature, and how religion is incorporated into secular rule, their ideas differ when it comes to types of government, self-preservation, and war.

The Space Among the Stars - Poetry

The Space Among the Stars

The transference of our souls

Settles my mind into a transcendent calm

In this space among the stars

Where we lay together as one

In a twinkling abyss of solace and solitude.

I am coming to the realization

That this peaceful era of our lives

Is beginning to deflate

As we float back down on the breeze

Of our existence

And return softly to Earth,

Treading along the misty ground

As we part ways for the night.

Photo courtesy of Google Images and http://www.americanneopaganism.com/worldtree.htm.

All rights reserved. All written work on this page is the sole copyright of the author, username Dani, and may not be reprinted or used in any manner whatsoever without written permission from the author. I certify that all work written here is original unless otherwise cited (such as in reference lists, etc.), and is my own. Any questions, comments, concerns, or requests for reprinting can be submitted to bookendreviews@gmail.com for review.