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"I arrive at the front, greeted by the Greek flag which resembles the sea and sky. I grew up coming here, and it brings me back memories of being with family and floating in the ocean without any concept of time. All the buildings are white, and the sun reflects off of them like snow. Guarded by two long and youthful trees which are potted. The blue sky wraps around the snow which never melts, and the golden icon illuminates the entrance."

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These are some instruments I play. I love them dearly (especially my Oud which was handmade by a luthier in Kuwait) and they are tactile objects which are poetic to me.

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This is a picture from when I was in Albania in the summer, a dumbbell because I am unathletic, and my risha for my oud

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I smile with my mouth closed always, and I realized my eyelashes are really long so my eyes look like big almonds. This photo was taken outside a sushi restaurant, and it reminds me of the smell of the sushi restaurant: boiling water, salty goodness (an awesome scent), raw salmon. It was pouring rain that day, and it reminds me of walking through the rainy Vancouver weather in my blundstones.

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1. My hair getting frizzy from the rain and looking crazy
2. Blundstones: black coloured, leather, and rotund
3. House keys making a bouncing noise in my pocket
4. Oud: Round, wooden, bowl shaped instrument. It is massive.
5. Bouzouki: Round, wooden, bowl shaped instrument. It is smaller, almost like a round guitar?
6. Passports that resemble a little notebook documenting my journeys
7. Car keys. What is the key even for if you can just click a button?
8. Costco Card so I can binge and buy everything I can ever dream of.
9. my dog because she is silly and looks like grumpy cat
10. Canned tennis balls. I dont really know why but they seem really appetizing and I happened to be thinking about them at the moment

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I realized I smile the exact same way I always have, and my eyes havent changed at all. They still look like almonds. It is kind of shocking to see how little things like that change overtime, even something as simple as a smile. This photos reminds me of my grandparents house (where it is), and I can still smell the meat cooking on the stove.

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1. My little drawing board (as seen in the picture) that was magnetic and brought the little magnetic particle things (I don't even know what they are called but they are fuzzy and metal) to the to draw things
2. Power rangers tricycle (I crashed it, ICBC should have reimbursed me)
3. My stuffed frog who wore a shirt that said 'Cheerios' on it. He felt like he was filled with sand and I named him froglewogle
4. Cookies because I like eating.
5. Lemon soup. The smell of my grandmothers Avgolemono soup, and seeing her crack the eggs to make it was so satisfying. The whipping of the eggs in the broth especially.
6. Blueberry muffins from McDonalds because the top of them were always so crispy and nice
7. Diapers. Their rotund shape and that smell of baby powder.
8. Wrenches from my dad's garage.
9. My dad's garage. It was like a palace that I would explore when I was younger but now... Now, it feels like it is the size of a food truck.
10. Orange juice boxes, and the satisfaction of squishing them in your hands when you are done.

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Reflecting on the writing experience...........

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Reflecting on the writing experience...........

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It was nostalgic to say the least. I like hand writing everything because it makes me feel more in control and in tune with my ideas (it feels more creative to me), almost like I can 'feel' the memories. It makes everything more visual.

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"Zesty socks have the empathy of crisp silk pants" - Me, 2023, made with my personal universe deck.
A lot of fun things came out of it. The personal universe deck was like a tool to assist creativity in my writing, reminding me that poetry isn't only about rhyming words or emotional meanings. My favourite quote that I left with though, was the one above.

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Making Anaphora's with my Personal Universe Deck

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Making Anaphora's with my Personal Universe Deck

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Here are some cool and funny combinations I came up with using my personal universe deck that weren't included in my Pattern Making Impulse anaphora poem:

Eyes like a butter tart
Eyes like a musky toilet-bowl
Eyes like glass pottery
Eyes like resonant cacti

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Something poetic I am noticing right now

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Something poetic I am noticing right now

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Squirrels! I feel like I will be eaten by a squirrel someday, I actually wouldn't necessarily mind that. They are very poetic to me. They joyously meander in the tops of the trees, with their floppy tails hanging beneath them, disregarding that which occurs on the ground below. All they do is eat, and there is something poetic about this repetition. There is rhythm and meter in repetition, and the squirrel running around in the trees eating all day is in and of itself, a poem!

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"Let no one bewail his poverty, for the universal kingdom has been revealed.
Let no one weep for his iniquities, for pardon has shown forth from the grave.
Let no one fear death, for the Savior's death has set us free.
He that was held prisoner of it has annihilated it. By descending into Hell, He made Hell captive.

He embittered it when it tasted of His flesh. And Isaiah, foretelling this, did cry:
Hell, said he, was embittered, when it encountered Thee in the lower regions.
It was embittered, for it was abolished.
It was embittered, for it was mocked.
It was embittered, for it was slain.
It was embittered, for it was overthrown.
It was embittered, for it was fettered in chains.
It took a body, and met God face to face.
It took earth, and encountered Heaven.
It took that which was seen, and fell upon the unseen.

O Death, where is your sting? O Hell, where is your victory?
Christ is risen, and you are overthrown!
Christ is risen, and the demons are fallen!
Christ is risen, and the angels rejoice!
Christ is risen, and life reigns!
Christ is risen, and not one dead remains in the grave!
For Christ, being risen from the dead, is become the first fruits of those who have fallen asleep. To Him be glory and dominion unto ages of ages. Amen."

-Excerpt from the Paschal Homily of St. John Chrysostom

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Well, it isn't necessarily a poem, it is actually a homily. BUT, nonetheless, it is a poetic homily. I was reminded that pascha (easter) is approaching, and it is an important day for me and my family because it is the most important holiday in Greece. That homily is something which every year on pascha we are read, and it is an important reminder of my culture and traditions as a Greek person

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Deep listening in a public space: inside and outside Koerner Library (the sunset looked so cool I had to take a picture).

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Deep listening in a public space: inside and outside Koerner Library (the sunset looked so cool I had to take a picture).

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Observations and notes:
-The rustling of leaves and the gentle swaying of branches in the wind creates a soothing and calming sound, like I am in space
-The sound of footsteps travel farther than you would expect.
-The voices of students and faculty members passing by have very little echo or sustain, and disappear quickly into nothingness
-The sound of construction
-The sound of water trickling done the side of the library (I couldn't even tell where it was coming from but I think there was a tap on the side of the building)

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Deep listening inside a domestic space: St. George Greek Orthodox Church on 30th and Arbutus

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Deep listening inside a domestic space: St. George Greek Orthodox Church on 30th and Arbutus

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Observations and notes:
-Byzantine chanting is extremely relaxing,
-Sound echoes across the entire building with a long sustain and echo because of the dome and circular shape of the building
-You can hear peoples' (especially old people) joints moving or clicking when it is quiet
-Sounds from the bells of the censor are soft

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Deep listening in a natural environment: Spanish Banks during the sunset

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Deep listening in a natural environment: Spanish Banks during the sunset

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Notes and observations:
-the subtle waves crashing onto the shore, relaxing and wooshing sound. It is almost rhythmic.
-The sound of the wet sand squishing beneath my feet
-The wind's quiet whirring sound, like nature's own fan
-Voices of people talking travels at such a distance near the ocean

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Deep listening outside of Koerner was relaxing, yet also cold. UBC campus tends me to pretty chilly, especially later in the evening. Before I sat down, all I could hear was the ruffling of my coat and my bag. When I sat down, those noises dissipated and all I could hear was the echoes of other people and of the nature. Since this was my first time doing it, I was trying hard to focus on specific sounds, things that could be causing this sounds.

Once I did it again, this time in my Church (which is a place where I grew up and is like my second home), I was focused much more on the overall echoes or impressions sounds made in this new environment. Because it is a domed/circular-shaped building, sound travels very differently in it. Every sound has an echo, instead of the muted nature of sound in an open concrete environment like campus. The sounds are also just very different. There are many melodies and chants being sung, but they are all done in a Byzantine style of music, which is a living art completely different to Western music.

Finally, at the beach, I wasn't focused on any specific sounds or things going on. It was more of a meditation or relaxation. The sounds of the wind and waves crashing at the beach are so calming, it puts your mind at ease immediately and grounds you from any worry beyond what is visible. I couldn't help but just close my eyes and listen to the rhythmic waves crashing, almost like a musical motif once paired with the whirring in-and-out of the wind, which appeared at times to enhance the sounds of the ocean.

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The portrait is a pencil sketch of an old man.
I can hear the sound of cars passing by outside my window.

He is wearing a Venetian straw hat.
There is a potted cactus on the windowsill next to me.

The shadow from his hat obscures his eyes.
I am feeling a little bit tired, but also curious about the task at hand.

The only features visible on his face are his nose and his mouth, which holds a pipe.
The room is fairly quiet except for the sound of my typing on the keyboard.

It appears as though he is holding a set of cards in his hands.
I can feel the cold breeze coming in through the window.

A Turkish coffee is visible to his left, in a small cup and saucer.
There is a bookshelf across the room from me.

The shading in the sketch is done very carefully, with different levels of intensity and texture to create depth and dimension.
I fear for the current state of the world.

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Prose Poem
I stand in the midst of the evening surrounded by society's collapse. Cigarette smoke and wet pavement are stale in the air, dogs bark in the distance and mice run for cover. Water drips from a nearby sewage pipe, a steady rhythm like a heart’s beat which is soon to seize. My agony is purple, and my mind is grey.

Trees bend in the wind and their leaves rustle like the feet of my enemy. Many stand behind me like Winter’s dying trees, but I move forward to be harvested like Summer’s ripened wheat. Darkness looms in my distance, and only do I stare at the hollowed tree which watches me. I am small and insignificant, everything around me is dust.

My enemies confront me, they warn me of consequence. I will not move, I will not move. I am rooted firmly, my feet planted on the broken concrete.

I dreamt of liberty and death, of parents and children. I dreamt of what parents didn’t have and what children could have. I dreamt of what it truly means to be alone.

My surroundings are scattered with others like me, but those who are against me multiply. All fighting for something they believe in, but nothing they want to live in. But I am a witness, no, I am strong. They cannot move me, because I believe in nothing.

I believe in God.

They will take me away, and will make an example of me to the public. I know that. But, fore now, the stillness that envelopes me like a mother’s last goodbye remains. I have always wanted to be alone. If I could only retreat and watch the world unfold. And here, in this moment, I have finally found my solitude.

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These ekphrasis exercises were much more difficult, yet much easier than other exercises I have done. The Ekphrasis Yourself exercise was much harder for me to make poetic, because instead of drawing on abstractions in the art I had to draw from things that was real, observable, and quite obvious. The You Are Not You exercise felt much more poetic, where I was able to place myself in the position of the protester in the painting and become a witness to a world (which I could creatively imagine).

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Practicing ekphrasis made the biggest impact on my writing because it trained me to place myself as an object or person in art and imagine myself interacting with my surroundings. A specific example was the You Are Not You exercise, I found this made me rethink poetry and how I write. I now try to imagine myself and my senses in my poetry versus simply connecting words and things that sound nice together.
I am now able to discern the use of language in my writing, and navigate ways to make it rhythmic but also, more importantly, visually descriptive. I am also able to better use visuals in my writing, and write poetically about observable things that may seem mundane.

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What do I notice about the world around me and how can I train myself to observe it better?

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What do I notice about the world around me and how can I train myself to observe it better?

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I am noticing many things in the world outside of myself which are beautiful go unnoticed. For example, a puddle. A puddle is like a miniature swimming pool and is round, reflects the sun, and attracts nature. It is very beautiful, but it often is something which no one would pay attention to or consider mundane.
A prompt to use which could train my attention is this: Find an empty, abandoned space or an object that is often overlooked or considered unappealing, such as an empty lot, a rusty pipe, or a discarded object. Spend at least 15 minutes observing the space or object, paying attention to its details, textures, and shapes. As you observe, write down any interesting observations or details that stand out to you. Then, use these notes to write an ekphrasis poem, where you become the object and describe yourself celebrating features which may be overlooked or seen as unappealing. Try to bring that object to life.