It's been about a month and a half..

Well, I apologize that I haven't posted in... about two months. I just got lazy and was caught up in school work. Sometimes I just wish all the work would disappear.
I got back on and noticed two new followers, welcome to insanity. It's summer now and, it's very relaxing so far. I have Cinnamon Toast Crunch stuck to my teeth and I can hear Finn and Rachel singing faintly. Yeah, not a very happy image but to me it symbolizes my laziness and happiness. I wrote a poem a while ago but misplaced it and since I have posted a lot of poems by myself lately I think it's time to move back to real poets. Poets that actually edit their poems unlike myself. Why you ask? 1. I'm not good at editing, however after reading my grammar book from English class for a final I am just now realizing all the annoying little mistakes. My bad. 2. I just am too lazy to edit them.
Crappy excuses but you know, I am a teenager and teenagers tend to have illegitimate excuses. My birthday passed a few days ago and it was fabulous. I got my own camera so now I don't have to steal my sisters. To top it off my mother made a chocolate cheesecake and I got to meet up with my writing buddies. It was a good day.
So, now for me to stop being so self centered and talking about myself.

Basho background stuff:

OK, from what I remembered in creative writing Basho is this really famous haiku dude who lived in Japan in the seventeenth century. It was either him or this other guy that really changed haiku, and I'm pretty sure it was him. Please keep in mind the syllables in Japanese match the simple 5-7-5 structure and in English there is a large change it won't match the structure.
Here are a few of his works, eat'm up:


((This was after his buddy died.))
Falling sick on a journey
My dream goes wandering
On a field of dried grass.

^^^^^ SAD. D:

And now for the rest:


From moon wreathed
bamboo grove,
cuckoo song.


Ah, summer grasses!
All that remains
Of the warriors dreams.


By lonely roads
this lonely poet marches
into autumn dusk.


Glorious the moon
therefore our thanks, dark clouds
come to rest our necks.


Orchid breathing
incense into
butterfly wings.


Spring morning marvel
lovely nameless little hill
on a sea of mist.


In my dark winter
lying ill, at last I ask
how fares my neighbour?


And, one of the most famous haiku's ever written also by Basho:

The old pond
A frog jumps in
The sound of water.



Well, this man obviously had some major skills, because each one of those blurbs gave me an emotion, and I feel like writing haiku now....
If only I could speak fluent Japanese, everything in Japanese just sounds more elegant. Anyways, all those above were translated by different people and those people are: R.H. Blyth, Stryck, and Beilenson.
Hope you enjoyed the haiku, I sure did. It's very soothing on the eyes. Have a good summer, I'll catch up with you all near the end of vocal camp. If anyone wants some of their poetry posted on my blog just message. I have rules though:

1. I don't want every other word to be profanity. It just looks so... stupid. Unintelligent.
2. Pleeaaseee don't send a sob-story, pity poem. We have all written and read a fair share of those. I want some that will make you wonder, or will make you feel peaceful. Write about a topic you have been wanting to write about. Bluhbluhbluh you get it.
3. Please edit your poems, because I won't and although you all probably do... well just make sure you do because I won't. XD
4. .... I don't like the number four.
5. Please no graphic stuff, sex or stuff. Nothing vulgar.
6. .....Yeah that's all.

I hope you all have fun splashing in some pools. :P

xXKathrynXx

Lunch is served

The line moved slowly
as we all shuffled to get
our own little plate of fear.
Each of us got our own special
scoop.
The kid screeched as a handful of
of spiders fell onto his tray.
By the time everyone paid for their food
they were shuddering
and shaking in their boots.
The girl ahead of me got 'food'.
Just regular food.
So that's the anorexic...
I don't think I could ever be afraid of food..
Inhaling unsteadily I stepped up to the lunch lady
whose eyes were vacant and the hair net
on her head looked painted on.
She lifted her wrinkly hand and twisted her wrist
letting a scoop of anxiety and loneliness
plop onto my plate.
My plate was always the empty one,
I always had the rhetoric scoop.
Others got metaphorical scoops
her name was Felicity.
She had been going out with this guy for two months
and every day for lunch they would give her
a pod with two peas in it, and the pod would look
more and more rotten by the day.
Then some got the 'real life' scoops
like the kid with spiders.
I would hate to get that..
The hardest part of the whole thing
is checking out with your meal!
I mean, getting it is one thing
but having to /deal/ with it for twenty minutes
that's the real torture.
Someone once told me
that middle school was the time
to face your fears and get over them
and high school was the time to test your courage
I didn't know they meant this so literally.
What does your plate of fear look like?


.: I apologize for not posting, life seems to be getting a bit tougher these days. I wrote this today and thought you all might enjoy reading it. After this I was start posting my favorite poems again, maybe introduce my favorite haiku poets. <: