The Lovesong Writer

I've broken my resolve and blogged. Today, well rather yesterday, was the day of metaphorical words, similies and personafications. Haha. Lit day! I love lit, and I love studying for it. It's just so lovely not having to rely on cold hard facts but rather on the whims and fancies of your thoughts. I could crap there for hours. And I bet if not for the other three essays I had to do, I would have written ten pages long of words for the first question!

But I loved the dingo poem. Dingo Dingo by Jack Davis. That was the unseen poetry. It's ironic isn't it? It was the poem I fell asleep on the friday I studied literature. Haha. But I wished that we were given more time to write. Now that I can think clearer, I can conjure up several more points about that poem. Haha. But that poem stirred something deep within my heart. I guess it's just the cruelty of survival, but I can't help but feel sorry for the dingo, the ewe, and even the hunter! It's so cruel and Jack Davis use of repition of the never-ending circle of life stirs that. HUMPH. There I go again, yet another point I could have used.

"The real poem is the soul within them... and that beautiful bit is the
soul of an unwritten poem. It is not every day one sees a soul... even a poem." - excerpt from Anne of Avonlea.

davy-boy.

12:11 am;
Still waiting for you-