Attentive Resistance

ENGL210 Introduction to Creative Writing

Changing Perspective: Edits of Third Poem

Rewrite your narrative poem to change the perspective. Interpret this as you wish and feel free to radically change up the poem. Some examples of ways to shift the perspective:

a. Change first person pronouns to third or second person (“I” to “he/she/they” or “you”) or vice versa.

b. Consider how you can change the perspective via the speaker of the poem as well. Is the conversation or scene between two people described by an omniscient narrator or by one of the people in the poem? Be decisive and intentional about who is telling this narrative.

Refer to the poems we’re reading for class for inspiration, if you so desire.

 

 

 

10 thoughts on “Changing Perspective: Edits of Third Poem

  1. Original:
    The building was gloomy
    Although it was sunny outside
    The curtains surrounded them, it wasn’t at all roomy
    As a girl who smelled like artificial roses sat at a bedside
    Grandma, she whispered Do you remember me?
    Shhh came out of the angel on the bed
    They told me to come that there was a fee to be paid
    One, Two, Three, Four…
    Grandma, What are you counting the girl asked
    Seconds stranger
    They said they wouldn’t be taking care of you much longer
    That’s indeed true

    Edit:
    This bed is as comfortable as my life, lumpy and uneven
    I can’t stand it here, I’m the one in pain, who is this girl crying by my shoes?

    Grand-, she said to me, remember me?
    I told her to shush her lips, I was through with hearing others talk
    I wanted to be out of this sterile room
    There are chairs for a reason, go stand by the window so the light can hide you from me I thought.
    The girl said something about a fee,
    Everything in life as a fee, to breath this cold sharp air
    There’s a fee

    I started to count the seconds it took her to leave out loud
    One, Two, Three, Four…
    I didn’t want any more medication

    She interrupted me
    Wouldn’t much longer is all I could bother to listen to

    If I was facing this girl she would have seen me roll my eyes at her
    That’s true indeed

    -Samantha Aversano

  2. Original :
    “You can do it.” “It’s not that hard.”
    Lies, but you don’t hear my voice.
    “Smile.” “Eat.” “Speak.” “You’ll feel better.”
    What is better? Can you at least tell me that?
    “You have to at least try.”
    Try…

    I am trying
    Trying and barely staying afloat
    Trying to force myself to fit your image
    I look in the mirror and I can’t see myself anymore
    Just an empty husk ‘that tried’

    “You’re exaggerating.” “You’re fine.”
    What. Is. Fine?
    I tell myself that word because I think it’s what I’m suppose to say
    But I don’t know what it means

    “Do you- do you want to talk about it?”
    And say what? There’s nothing to say.
    My mind is a black holed abyss
    My voice box disconnected

    I’m short circuiting wires
    And dangling marionette strings

    Edited :
    I want her to try. She’s not trying.
    She doesn’t speak, or eat, or smile.
    I can see her hurting, I can see her breaking
    But she just looks at me, with those soulless eyes
    Ignoring me when I tell her to try

    “I am trying”
    She tells me this in the middle of the night
    Eyes rimmed red
    And can only offer me a weakly shattered smile
    I know she doesn’t mean it

    “I’m not fine.” “What is fine?”
    “What. Does. Fine. Mean?”
    She lashes out
    Against me, against herself, against the world
    I want to hold her, comfort her, but I can’t seem to catch her as she falls

    Deeper and deeper she tumbles
    Into places without any light
    I’m trying to follow
    To drag her back
    Kicking and screaming if I have to

    She can’t live like this
    “I’m not living at all”
    Let me help you

    Please

    “What good will it do?

  3. I miss you. I whisper
    And the tears flow down
    Spilling on the ground.
    Next to your tombstone,
    Where the roses I placed lay
    Caressing the place where your
    Body rests under the earth.
    The wind whistles in my ear
    Reminding me that everything will be ok.

    *Edited version:

    Her tears flowed down
    spilling on the ground.
    Next to the white tombstone,
    where the crimson roses she placed lay
    over a layer of snow,
    beside the place where her mother’s
    body rests under the frozen earth
    Her jaw and fists clench against the
    angry harsh cold, when
    the sun peeks out.
    From a little white cloud,
    and warms her body.
    Tickles her nose.
    Caresses her cheeks.
    Reminding her, that everything will be ok.

  4. Original:
    Life’s like a donut hole; I try to complete the world around me but something’s always missing.
    Was it always there, or was it hiding in the shadows with laughter ringing about?
    If it even existed, I want to know it’s name, but even that escapes my memory.
    Then how about you melt down the memories, through the bright lights of a reactor
    instead of thinking about it on a sleepless 2 am?
    Maybe then the bright white will clear your mind and bring new memories.

    Edit:
    the reactor shines with bright lights,
    they’re so loud; as is normal with the dwellers of this realm;
    they argue and argue, arguing over and over
    sleepless 2am’s mean nothing
    missing memories mean nothing
    as if living life through meltdowns or donut holes will solve–
    their problems, insignificant as dirt, wondering, wishing, blinded by–
    they won’t last one more hour
    it will rip them both to shreds
    it will end
    how soon will they seek, will they yearn
    how soon will they crave a paradise lost?
    I’ll pray for them to my fallen god without a second thought

  5. She is leaving.
    With him, she leaves her most bizarre experiences like the dead bird below his bed.
    She know he has hope she will come back, because she has always been a cat climbing from ceiling to ceiling but habitually returning home.
    However, this time she will not come back, that is why she left the indelible mark of red lipstick on his pillowcase.
    He knew she was always hiding in a black curtain of smoke, chilling and grieving on the highest of her ego.
    He is the shade of her past. He is the constant and disturbing whisper on her ears that repeats how shameful she is when she is with him.
    She was a refugee of her own war, and he was nourishing on her consumed and deteriorated soul.
    I hope he can heat the piece of ice he left her as a heart.
    I hope she can heal the marks he left on her skin.
    I hope he can feel the next barbaric fight in someone else’s lips.
    I hope she can leave the repetitive repertoire of irremediable cases.

    Do not miss this time!

  6. Go back to the 90s and early 2000s.
    Where a boy in yellow a shirt and navy-blue pants,
    can walk alongside a girl in a plaid skirt, hiding his s
    Her stockings are way too high.
    A time where an innocent girl could walk home alone and know she was going to make it home.
    A time where there were no innocent bystanders
    and everyone in the neighborhood looked out for each other.
    Your thinking times have changed for the better but,
    Look around
    Nothing Is Better.

  7. Is life a paradox
    
It is a winding maze

    Do we bump into past and present repeatedly

    History repeats itself through people and events
    
Do we end up where we are supposed to

    At the finish line and destined to be where we should be

    *Edited Version*

    Is life a paradox
    A maze of confusion, and resolution
    Do past people and events repeat itself
    Do we ever end up where we belong
    At the finish line or just a complete restart?

  8. Will you just stop speaking at me
    Or lying by omission to my face and then to the masses
    Turning my humble little opinion nasty and viral
    Into a political disease nobody but everybody wanted
    and takes naive victims along the way
    Relying on stranger’s willingness to agree or disagree will ultimately be our downfall
    And I don’t want to contribute to this epidemic one bit
    Even though we went and got everyone sick

  9. Original:
    Looking at the sky, I can see all the shapes
    Of geometric figures and faces
    Of animals and landscapes
    And even a shoe with laces

    Well when I look at you I see
    A smile with endless glee
    Eyes with endless hues of green
    And love with endless means

    Edited:
    In the sky we may see shapes
    like geometric figures and faces
    And animals and landscapes
    And sometimes we see an apparent shoe with laces

    But through her eyes she saw
    Her smile with endless glee
    His eyes with endless hues of green
    And our love with endless means

  10. Original:
    I sit in despair, my mind roaming off on it’s own.
    With pain in my heart and frustration running through my veins.
    Questioning myself as if I’m in a test, wondering what’s the best solution;
    Doubting every decision, doubting myself.
    What am I doing wrong?
    or am I doing anything right?

    One day we’re happy
    the next, it’s as if all of the the natural disasters met.
    we’re two individuals that love too deep,
    yet too toxic for each other.
    We have shades covering our eyes like the sun avoids trespassing the window.
    But we are fools after all, because stubbornness is one thing we got in common.

    Edited:
    I bang on these walls with frustration but they bang back.
    I scream out in desperation but my desperation beats me.
    You. All about you.
    You seek perfection and I’m a working progress for you.
    I ask for too much. I complain too much. I say too much.
    Too much. Too much.
    I’m moving too fast as if I pressed the gas pedal on a racing car.
    but I am not going anywhere with you.

    I can Not.

    How can he be okay with all of this? how can’t he see his own reflection?
    His intentions, so transparent like a glassed door.
    and me? Too gullible like tricking a dog to pay fetch.
    he says I make him feel like no other person.
    but the only one that’s made him feel better is his ego.
    I don’t seem to know when to stop trying
    but there’s someone else whispering in my ear to keep pushing.
    But I know this, it won’t make a difference.

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