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Lit 4003 – Creative Writing

Dr. Angel Piserla

Coherence and Correspondence in Villaflores’s “Mind Flight”

The poem “Mind Flight” by Villaflores dramatizes the conflict between youthful freedom and duty.  The conflict relates to the dreamy and restless behaviour of the subject, a female young adult who seems to have just been initiated to the unfavourable conditions of the real industrial setup as part of the harsh reality that dictates the need to act in accordance to practicality as a necessity for survival.

Although of unspecified identity, the speaker clearly takes a third person dramatic personae recounting the subject’s restiveness, the inability to “keep still” and fasten her mind and senses where they should be for the time being.  The idea of restraint is overtly emphasised in lines such as the following.

She drifts on hungry feet

ascending from the streets;

feebly fading into flight,

she saves her face in shady lines.

I try, how much I try to

hush

her. . . .

The speaker — possibly a personified inanimate object, a metaphorical tool, a “straightjacket” that claims the responsibility to deter the subject from impractical flights — recounts the young woman’s struggle to stay focused and fulfil her duties only to be carried away by a serious case of chronic daydreaming.  The speaker then concludes each verse with a statement describing the need to save the idealistic character from being taken over by the urge to break free from the stipulations that her duties entail.  The first verse, for example, closes with,

I try, how much I try to

hush

her. . . .

Finally, the speaker conveys the subject’s side of the story, expressing that the character justifies her untimely aversions to be mere cases of “eureka,” overwhelming discoveries, which is contained in the “enigma,” the indescribable paradox, of life.  The speaker, however, refutes the woman’s view by concluding that she is merely, disenchanted, as though an eager, yet crestfallen little bird.

The whimsical tone of “Mind Flight” brings into view the wistfulness of the subject, the young woman held down by conventions and industrial responsibilities, struggling to flee from the surrounding circumstances.

To connote the strong yearning for freedom, words associated with the absence of restrictions are used; e.g., drifts, flight, bursts, loving, losing, beach, etc. Borders, however, are set and the persisting presence of the elements of restraint is emphasised by the usage of hush, still, bound, and others. Furthermore, one can note the dominant usage of basic vocabulary, accentuating how the speaker views the character as juvenile, childlike, and wistful.  The technique also brings to light the currentness of the conflict, considering the everyday language generally used in the modern times.

The third person pronouns she and her are used when referring to the subject.  Immediately in the first line of the poem, one can recognize the speaker’s reference to a female subject. Additionally, the first two juxtaposing septets both contain two complete sentences, each of which expounded with coordinating and modifying punctuations such as the comma, semi colon, and dash.  The speaker uses a series of declarative sentences narrating action as it happens, which is supported by the usage of the present tense.  In the poem, the speaker recounts descriptively about an occurring event as both observer and participant, considering that it claims partial responsibility for keeping her in place.

“Mind Flight” employs a free verse technique, where a variety of rhyme schemes and patterns are combined to form a distinct structure.  The first two stanzas in the poem are parallel in terms of rhetorical pattern.  The lines take the iambic foot, and although no consistent meter is applied whole throughout, one can notice, by verbal resonance and visual form, the juxtaposition in the two parallel septets.

She drifts on hungry feet

ascending from the streets;

feebly fading into flight,

she saves her face in shady lines.

I try, how much I try to

hush

her. . . .

She bursts again in dreamy speech—

like losing and loving by the beach,

keeping the night stars wide awake,

leaving the tent ajar to wait.

I should keep her still just

for

now. . . .

The pattern shifts on the third verse, and while the iambs are retained in most parts, the lines are cut shorter into staccatos.

Here comes the storm.

In such disdain,

she closes up

and writes in vain;

she joins the rain. . . .

The sudden shift in meter exemplifies the element of restraint and climactically dramatizes the character’s plight. Notice how the thought pattern and the mood divert from whimsical to empathetically emotional.

Although the poet utilises no steady rhyme scheme, the resonance in the end words (e.g., feet-streets, flight-lines); the use of alliterations (e.g., “feebly fading into flight. . . .”); and assonances (e.g., “she saves her face on shady lines. . . .”) augment sound effect. Hence, the sound significantly supports or enhances the tone.

The title of the work is imagery in itself.  Here, the mind, which is an intangible element, takes a gravitational advantage of being able to fly – as a metaphor referring to daydreaming or the absence of focus.  The feet also feel pangs of hunger, which represents the sentiment of being deprived from freely sauntering or strolling in the streets or other places for this matter.  The use of “storm” exemplifies how the constraining elements are necessitating the subject to submit and go with the industrial current by fulfilling demands as she “closes up;” that is, to give up her capricious ideals.  Joining the “rain,” in the poem, depicts that the character is at last deciding to stay put in the here-and-now and to stop fighting the flow.

“Mind Flight,” qualifies as an experimental free verse that strikes the balance between coherence and correspondence.  Its combinations of patterns, the rich presence of imagery, and the strategic usage of end-stop and run-on lines provide the dramatic harmony and exemplify the speaker’s attitude towards the character and towards the conflict.


Mind Flight

by Bejay Villaflores

She drifts on hungry feet
as her mind saunters on the streets,
forcefully fading into flight;
she saves her face in shaded lines
I try, how much I try to
hush
her

She bursts again of dreamy speech-
like losing and loving by the beach
keeping the night stars wide awake,
leaving the tent ajar to wait
I should put her down
for
now.

Here comes the storm.
In such disdain, she closes up
and writes in vain;
she joins the rain.

She picks up speed
her freedom dance-a screaming stance
on one-two-and-three
I should keep her bound
to earn; for she has to learn.

She calls it eureka
a game of flight
she says its enigma
(a childish try)
But I call it something else-
a disenchanted little bird, wanting.

I went out to look for Literature text books, and instead chanced upon an eight-inch doll. Me and and my fixation for miniature dolls!

Here is NURI, my new creative whisperer. (Nuri is Egyptian unisex name/word meaning “gypsy.”)

You, wall, again, are hurting me
And treating me like a senseless kid
I fall short and hear out angry voices
Trapped in my head
I wanna snap and die
And turn waters into murk
Sand into coal
Wind into deadly clay
As this hallow night sings me
Down to sleep
Luring me to divine forgetfulness
I am blameless and understandable
I will jump from the high-rise perfection
Fall, land facedown, crash-land in a bang.
You, hateful, you, once lovable, you
Should no longer hear of me,
Such a saddening landing won’t move you anyway
Take your time, your time, your time,
As I drink and be merry to plural death.

Life here is slow, relatively. Here in my hometown, i simply let my circadian current take me, and i still manage to feel productive at the end of the day.

Here, days are longer, or so they seem. Yesterday morning I sang my heart out in a karaoke indulgence, pigged out over lechon manok and paksiw at noon time, slept the whole afternoon through, ate out in Pantalan (pier) with the whole family, and finally, bought Sansrival-flavored ice cream as a treat.

Today was rather stuffed too – a visit to the cemetery, eat out with family, music tripping and video shoot with siblings (more on this later), sleep, sleep, sleep, yummy dinner, Internet, and to come, a small-time Halloween-cake party with siblings, and who knows what else. The night is still young, as young as us. :P

This is happiness, a treat I deserve much. : )
collage

just squeezing in a little early-morning post. will be in bath in 5 minutes. early because I’ll have to be in Cebu Normal University where I’ll be enrolling for Master of Arts in Literature (it’s actually my first choice). Glad that the entrance exam went out well – some IQ, diagnostics, and a critical essay.

Just heard a saddening news at work yesterday. Come November 5, we are required to report to work wearing corporate outfit (particularly business formal). Bye bye dresses. Still to find out what to do with 2k clothing allowance.

And oh, just got my legendary long hair cut last night, not too short though. will blog more tonight. Arlo loves it! toodles!

Yet, even now, every time (often) that I find I don’t understand
something, then, instinctively, I’m filled with the hope that perhaps this will
be my moment again, perhaps once again I shall understand nothing, I shall
grasp that other knowledge, found and lost in an instant. – Italo Calvino (“The Flash”)

I’ve been waiting for this – a time to myself, and with a friend of course – slurping cold espresso in a nearby coffee shop. I miss being on the Internet, leisure chatting and leisure surfing, doing non work-related matters. Being free for a day or two is big deal, at least for me.

having ingested quite enough alcohol and being physiologically tortured, i battle with sleep just so i could put some of my sticky thoughts down. It would be fun to hear my self out by sunrise.

I am actually somewhere between awake and asleep, but i’m pretty sure this ain’t one of those effin’ dreams again – my subconscious playing tricks on me, being harsh to me, mocking me with crazy scenarios that might be, given it’s magical realism nature, possible to occur in dear life. (somebody pinch me so i’d know) You see, my subconscious had had a screw turned – it’s bringing dead people back to life, posing discrepancies after discrepancies, and waking me up gawking, whimpering and cursing the morning and certain people too.

I am a-OK in real life though. It has dawned upon me that hell yeah, why should i give a damn trying too hard to love everything that i do. A mountaineer workmate shared to me what she has picked up from a certain someone in Readers Digest. She was talkin somethin bout not having to love your job, but loving your reason for doing it. In my case, i have and angst-driven plans to bask in the essence of living. I will be human someday, as human as a free bird (errk, discrepancy) In other words i shall beat life’s bitchy aspects when the right time comes, and i have someone behind my back to yell out “booyah” when i get there, someone as flammable as I am, at least today.

I love to see a young girl go out and grab the world by the lapels. Life’s a bitch. You’ve got to go out and kick ass.

-Maya Angelou

Pardon my chunky bits tonight. They are but islands of thoughts, memories of dreams (all kinds: in colors, in black-and-whites, perfection, shame, guilt, betrayal), and industrial drawbacks brought about by hours and hours of forced content writing to help me finance my plans to pursue my dream, education, for which i hunger, all clumped into one blog entry, the only one that time and physical condition permits in the time being. And as i try to arrive with cohesion in this insignificant September night, one which is designed to fleet away just as with any ordinary unless i give it a name, i, a suppressed traveler in her night wear, imagines Arcadia, a dream land, where arts and insights grow on trees (in reference to Ben Okri’s In Arcadia novel).

So better not define it, and better leave the feeling alone for awhile – allow it do be in a secretive misfit, leaving elegance to the thinker, or in this case, the feeler that crawls in and out like an earth worm – hungry for the earth but loving the sun.

Or shouldn’t I just get it straight. I think , and yes i strongly think, that i am in love. And the fire just waiting for fuel starts to burn hard and picks up speed as the new month takes off. Another universal phenomena that will keep me living for days, weeks, months, years even.

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