A collaborative piece by my honors freshman seminar class about our experiences at the UW.
You Are Never Where You Are
Introduction:
“As you can see by the number of people on stage, our seminar has chosen an
alternative format for our presentation.
We have been working on a group poem since the beginning of the quarter. After
writing individual poems, we selected the best images from each one, and compiled
them all together in a group poem, which we will present here, along with a
theatrical performance to accompany the reading.
And now, in honor of the title of this year’s Common Book, “You are Never Where
You Are”, we offer you a multi-faceted voyage through space and through time, into
the life of a freshman at the University of Washington.”
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
First, let us offer you a cup of words to start the show,
To prepare the mind for thinking things.
Your neurons may whir anew, as you keep on drinking more.
We hope its artful spice will carry you like a falcon on a cloud of steam.
So please, let this warm cup of words guide you through this journey.
We begin by George, as boldly he stands,
Prominently he stands, pioneering and powerful.
Proudly he stands, in the state that bears his name.
Leading by example, to all sons and all daughters,
To all those who strive to achieve.
Saved by the bell! The soothing chimes…
Covered in rust, but still majestic,
Seeing scholars with bags engorged with textbooks,
Purple gowns, and golden tassels, proudly hanging,
Hopes and dreams unfurled.
Falling Nature, fertile abscission,
Ephemeral epidermis, shedding its growth.
Orange veins, bulge with courage.
Broken limbs, stun in silence.
Temporal elegance, evolution’s gift,
Assisting a colorful death.
Surrounded by that which is red,
Its doorways beckon, its windows shine.
Soft light floats through stained glass.
Safe. Quiet. Peaceful.
Guarded by thought, inspiration, and mastery,
It holds what we seek. What we need. What we long for.
A cathedral of learning.
Then the chill sets in and all things stop,
With only a white canvas in a closed up shop.
Roses in winter, thorns tipped in ice,
Still give a splinter, pain precise.
To suture the chasm between verdant and grey,
Columns, to keep the past from crumbling.
Branches, then, to hold up the sky.
A portrayal of ideas and tradition,
The birth of a university, the essence of beginning.
Stark but elegant figures,
These four trees tie everything together.
Alas the sun appears from its leave,
Blooms full to bursting,
Fertile minds ring,
curiosity ever-thirsting.
And the white storm commences,
Trilling tunes of blue skies and green pastures.
Yet in this magic place guarded by trees of season,
You have already learned the hard way.
For as the colors change so does its majesty,
Failing to see it is blasphemy.
Ashamed and inflamed, you shed your blushing soul,
And are left barren for all the world to see.
Lucky for all, it is not a one hit wonder,
As every year comes a chance to fix last year’s blunder.
Four seasons of learning, preparing to soar.
The angels singing once more,
Lifting the sunken ship,
To its welcome mat,
At home.
“As you can see by the number of people on stage, our seminar has chosen an
alternative format for our presentation.
We have been working on a group poem since the beginning of the quarter. After
writing individual poems, we selected the best images from each one, and compiled
them all together in a group poem, which we will present here, along with a
theatrical performance to accompany the reading.
And now, in honor of the title of this year’s Common Book, “You are Never Where
You Are”, we offer you a multi-faceted voyage through space and through time, into
the life of a freshman at the University of Washington.”
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
First, let us offer you a cup of words to start the show,
To prepare the mind for thinking things.
Your neurons may whir anew, as you keep on drinking more.
We hope its artful spice will carry you like a falcon on a cloud of steam.
So please, let this warm cup of words guide you through this journey.
We begin by George, as boldly he stands,
Prominently he stands, pioneering and powerful.
Proudly he stands, in the state that bears his name.
Leading by example, to all sons and all daughters,
To all those who strive to achieve.
Saved by the bell! The soothing chimes…
Covered in rust, but still majestic,
Seeing scholars with bags engorged with textbooks,
Purple gowns, and golden tassels, proudly hanging,
Hopes and dreams unfurled.
Falling Nature, fertile abscission,
Ephemeral epidermis, shedding its growth.
Orange veins, bulge with courage.
Broken limbs, stun in silence.
Temporal elegance, evolution’s gift,
Assisting a colorful death.
Surrounded by that which is red,
Its doorways beckon, its windows shine.
Soft light floats through stained glass.
Safe. Quiet. Peaceful.
Guarded by thought, inspiration, and mastery,
It holds what we seek. What we need. What we long for.
A cathedral of learning.
Then the chill sets in and all things stop,
With only a white canvas in a closed up shop.
Roses in winter, thorns tipped in ice,
Still give a splinter, pain precise.
To suture the chasm between verdant and grey,
Columns, to keep the past from crumbling.
Branches, then, to hold up the sky.
A portrayal of ideas and tradition,
The birth of a university, the essence of beginning.
Stark but elegant figures,
These four trees tie everything together.
Alas the sun appears from its leave,
Blooms full to bursting,
Fertile minds ring,
curiosity ever-thirsting.
And the white storm commences,
Trilling tunes of blue skies and green pastures.
Yet in this magic place guarded by trees of season,
You have already learned the hard way.
For as the colors change so does its majesty,
Failing to see it is blasphemy.
Ashamed and inflamed, you shed your blushing soul,
And are left barren for all the world to see.
Lucky for all, it is not a one hit wonder,
As every year comes a chance to fix last year’s blunder.
Four seasons of learning, preparing to soar.
The angels singing once more,
Lifting the sunken ship,
To its welcome mat,
At home.