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Danae Biln is a Media Studies and Masters in Management Dual Degree student at UBC. In her spare time, she works as an instructor at a nonprofit arts school, and budtends at her family-owned dispensary.

Danae originally practiced poetry through short stories and rhyme. However, her creative writing course, Intro to Poem-Making, has advanced and influenced a new style of list poetry, pattern-making, and temperament-based writing that has further developed her storytelling style beyond rhyme.

This chaplet exemplifies Danae's reflection of emotional expression, gratitude, pain, nostalgia and many other experiences.

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Revision 5: Practice of Attention Recollection 

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Revision 5: Practice of Attention Recollection 

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lyric moments

Child:

Shiny costume jewellery and tiaras glitter as I pose for

my dad’s gray Sony camcorder where my childhood is stored

A little time machine to capture this yellow, carpeted room

filled with beautiful people dancing and drinking - The air smells like booze

I hold my pose while my insecure hands sloppily twirl my long, tangled, hair

The camera makes sure this anxious, well-dressed girl always stays there

Adult:

My gold medallion and bright pink colours shine as I pose for

my smartphone’s camera where my adulthood is stored

A rectangle with thousands of archives and infinite room

that now includes beautiful people dancing in Hotel Belmont’s bathroom

I form a peace sign after my weed-scented fingers twirl my short, silky, hair
the camera makes sure this anxious, well-dressed girl always stays there

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Revision 4: Ekphrasis exercise - You Are Not You 

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Revision 4: Ekphrasis exercise - You Are Not You 

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I smell graphite and drywall. It reminds me of my person.

I hear crumpled materials and unsettled breaths.
This sound reminds me of the restless papers that cover my body and wave-like flags when I swing open and closed.

I see my person’s studio, it is contained by single-pane windows and cracked drywall, covered with paint and charcoal. The smallest thing I see is a fallen thumbtack that lays on the floor next to the paper it held. The biggest thing I see is a fiddle-leaf fig that stands in the corner, reaching for the window. When closing up, I see the bumpy texture of this old building’s popcorn ceiling, the splintered and fibrous wooden flooring, and the crumbs of a gum eraser on her drawing desk.

My person just left, slamming me into the doorframe. She was mumbling dissatisfaction with herself thinking nobody could hear. She feels like she is a failure. She feels unworthy of being in our space. She left. She didn’t just leave, she exited like the air in here was toxic; holding her breath, rigid body, and brisk motions.

Last night, I dreamt of her. She’s so beautiful when she works. She was painting the walls into a forest. And I watched her as I always do. She moves to paint me into the forest too. Her eyes scan my body but she doesn’t see me. She sees a canvas. My body is a canvas and I like it.

Outside of this room is not important. It’s cold and broken. Its walls are chipped and the structure of this building is mostly asbestos. I can hear faraway footsteps and car doors slamming beyond my frame of this world.

She will return. She always returns. She will come back and continue whatever she failed to create earlier. When she has her vision, she can’t be released from it until it’s fulfilled.

The weather seeps into our space. Single-pane windows keep nothing out. It’s cold, wet, and gray. There’s mould developing along the windowsill from the chronic rain. As uncomfortable as it seems, this space makes me feel connected to the outside world while still being somewhat protected.

Secretly, I have always wanted to be the window.

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Revision: Experiment #1: A Story-Telling Impulse   

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Revision: Experiment #1: A Story-Telling Impulse   

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Three versions of the same poem: a 16-line version, a 9-line version, and a 3-line version.

Mornings are hard

They ask me to experience the whole day

But the whole day feels impossible

When I wake up every morning in a nauseous panic

My mind experiences a day and a half in 45 minutes

But everyone has anxiety

Mornings are functional and that asks for too much

Because sometimes I'm not

So I try to stay home where Its safe to fall apart

But when you fall apart, you fall behind

And anxiety hates that

So I peeled myself out of bed the next morning

And I took the extra hours it gave me

And I remembered the warm comfort of a sweet london fog and the peace in a sleeping campus

I remembered the crisp, fresh morning air that fills my lungs and cleanses my skin

Mornings are functional and today I am too

Mornings are hard because they ask me to experience the whole day

But I wake up every morning and my mind experiences a day and a half  in 45 minutes

Mornings are functional and I am not

So I try to stay home where Its safe to fall apart

But when you fall apart, you fall behind

And anxiety hates that, so I peeled myself out of bed the next morning

And I remembered the warm comfort of a sweet london fog and a sleeping campus

And the crisp, fresh morning air filling my lungs and cleansing my skin

Mornings are functional and today I am too

Mornings ask me to experience more of the day. But my anxious mind experiences a day in 45 minutes. So I try to stay home where it's safe to fall apart. the next morning, I peeled myself out of bed, I took the extra hours it gave me I remembered the feeling of fresh morning air filling my lungs and cleansing my skin. Mornings are functional and today I am too

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Revision: Experiment #4: An Imaginative Impulse

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Revision: Experiment #4: An Imaginative Impulse

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Ode to my home

‘House’ isn’t the right word to describe where I reside

I would rather compare it to a box filled with my favourite things

And I’m not trapped inside

My home is the feeling of relief

When you shed your outside person

I leave her on my coat rack by the door

And let my raw self be free

Now my body can rest

In a canopy of plants

I wake up in my very own jungle

In endless blankets and bathed in rays of sun

A fleecy hug while I sleep in the clouds

My favourite smoke lounge

Theatre

Classroom

Restaurant

It’s as alive and breathing as myself

Sometimes it feels more like me than my own flesh

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Revision:  Experiment #7 - revised from taste to touch

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Revision:  Experiment #7 - revised from taste to touch

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Creamy gelato feels like candle wax
Citrus margaritas sting my chapped lips
Cinnamon feels soft between my fingers
Sour food feels like an acidic smack
Spicy food bites my tongue and stings my eyes
Shards of crackers feel like paste when I chew
Earth on my tongue feels like mud with my spit
Dirt stuck on my knees feels like a rough hug
Daffodil petals feel silky and damp
Floral air feels like a warm, gentle breath
Tobacco crumbles between my fingers
People rush past me like tumbling stones
Perfume feels like mist on my neck and wrists

I feel like raw meat that's been dressed and cooked

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Through this poetry process, I discovered my primary impulse is storytelling based on personal experience and feelings -such as love, longing, hurt, comfort, and reminiscence.

The temperament that feels more challenging and that comes less naturally is Imagination because it requires deep visualization that can be challenging to practice. I found that I needed to connect closely enough to a memory in order to provide depth in its poem form.

I addressed this in my revisions by going into more detail to ensure that the feelings and environment are as vivid as possible. This included a long brain-storming session to reflect on each poem and how I can best enhance its imagery.

I will continue to train myself to live attentively and make artful choices by identifying my primary impulses in different contexts and I will assess my work using the 4 temperaments  (story, structure, music, imagination) and ensure each segment is effectively practised. This assignment's process exemplified the importance of revision and I plan on practicing this with past works from high school and previous years at UBC to explore their potential and my poetic range.

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Step 1: mark-up the original poem exercise
This step refines and enhances the writing based on my full course knowledge and my TA's advisory.
I found that this poem lacked sensory detail, listing only two or three words for each sense. through deeper reflection and imagination, I expanded the list and discovered that the senses from my childhood image were very similar to that of the adult image.

Step 2: Edit the original poem to align with the mark-ups
In this step, I change the written poem exercise to reflect my mark-ups.
This is an important step because it helps me process the content and identify lyric moments within. I noticed that the three recollections were; shiny jewellery, beautiful people, twirling my hair anxiously

Step 3: Assemble the revised lyric moments
This step mainly considers the subconscious similarity of the two settings.
The writing was inspired by my TA's note to connect the two images through the senses. I made sure to mention each of my main recollections because they connected my childhood memory to that of my adulthood.

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I would like to express my deepest gratitude to my friends, family, plants, and animals who inspired my writing and editing process. These beautiful and complex personalities made this project possible.

I am also grateful for the support of my Creative Writing instructors, who provided me with a comprehensive poetry toolkit to fully develop this chapbook.