SAJC IOTA Publications

The blog for all things IOTA

[she-who-fights-and-writes]

Do you ever just have the urge to write but you don’t know what exactly so you just keep opening and closing and switching between your WIP docs like a caged animal???

[writeouswriter]

[random-jot]

[sajc-iota]

Ferryman of River Styx

He works at the border Between here And there Though No one really knows What lies beyond the undergrowth There

The border is cold The river is slow Not that he would know Though he knows that he must row Travelling souls For the price of an obol

A dense fog hovers above Blocking sinners from view Cutting off their pleas Drowning out their suffering Emaciated souls walk the banks For they have no obols to pay Godforsaken, some gull others by impersonating Him so they may cross but  In the end, they never do 

He warns them against trying to cross Those who listen enter purgatory They walk and walk and walk Sometimes when they've walked enough Soft-hearted gods allow them to cross 

He watches all of them They are always fearful Of crossing Of walking Because they know there is no return And yet they always do  Sometimes he wonders why Most times he rows them across the silent river Listening to the voices of all the souls Contentedly he works At the border

Elisabeth Koh (19A05)

9 October 2019 Poetry with Marc Nair

[sajc-iota]

10 metres

Someplace, there’s a bridge, 10 metres long. Stretching between houses and school, One bank to another.

Somewhere, in the span of 10 metres, I’ve cast away red for blue, Donning the garb of a saint.

Sometime, in the span of 10 metres, I’ve crossed the bridge between 16 and 17,  Changing from a minor to an adult.

Somehow, in the span of 10 metres,  ‘Pure’ has become ‘H2’, ‘Elective’ becoming ‘H1’, Time slipping past like a river in a storm.

Someday, in the span of 10 metres, Again, I’ll cast away blue for more colour From a student, I’ll become a working member of society, Subjects turning to modules and coursework.

In 10 metres, somewhere, sometime, somehow, someday- I’ll certainly change again. Something becoming different In just 10 metres.

Quek Jing Yu (19S17)

9 October 2019 Poetry with Marc Nair

[sajc-iota]

9 the bridge is the most interesting place here right between home and school a stretch of wind and sun and rain and nothingness between commitments and responsibilities quiet and safe hovering over deep dangerous water that is so seemingly serene bordered by tall wispy green puffs of white speckles of colours that go unnoticed as you eye the other side and long for time to freeze or slow down the walk between worlds is the only time that everything is ok in the middle all sounds become muted and you think you can hear the water beckoning because bridges offer more than two options if you’re not a coward either relish the break from reality or jump off it

Joan Tham (19A05)

9 October 2019 Poetry with Marc Nair

[sajc-iota]

Bridges

A construction between two dimensions Linkway between two different factions Its gentle arch like the passage of time Dawn to dusk not forgetting our prime Marvelous contraption in the eyes of some Spiritual connection to the likes of none

Through the roughest winds and the toughest storms Never once faltering its pliant form Travellers be wary of the mysteries beneath Lurking in the shadows waiting to bequeath

Ngian Hui En (19S11)

9 October 2019 Poetry with Marc Nair

[morsmordre-is-writing]

It is slowly approaching… 

[sajc-iota]

we walked out of the gates where a white bridge stood where pristine paint once shone cracked and moldy over time, it peeled we looked over the bridge, to a calm river where hundreds of fish lay hidden i looked up to the sky pondering a fish's life we walked on past and reached the other side i looked back and realised how time waits for no one it flows just like the river we passed sometimes calm sometimes raging but never once stopping for us during the brief passage across the bridge i saw my whole life ahead of me. and we walked.

Justin Chong (19S06)

9 October 2019 Poetry with Marc Nair

[thy-lovelylionheart]

person: oh you write? are you any good?

me: yeah I guess

also me: he furrowed his brow, his brow furrowed, brow furrowing, his brow knit together, a wrinkle creased his brow, his brow browed browingly, brow—

[thy-lovelylionheart]

I had no idea this was such a universal problem

[sajc-iota]

We graze greedily on green pastures The smooth and crisp taste of chartaceous blades curl around our tongue

Our eyes flicker Dancing from one blade to the next Our nose tingle  Intoxicated with the aroma of freshly printed ink mixed with bacteria  Our mouth drool Craving for a wad to be shoved between our lips  Our stomach growls Hungrily awaiting, seeking, begging  For more 

The incessant sound of metal crushing against the face of the earth echoes behind our footsteps like a soft melody

The shepherd dressed in a well fitted coat Trimmed to fit his every curve Beckons us to follow

Eagerly we trail behind Just like lambs

Lambs to the slaughter.

Isabel Liang (19A06)

9 October 2019 Poetry with Marc Nair

[hollys-writeblr]

Realism is a topic that subverts audiences often. Personally, I am a fan of realism as I believe that examining the consequences of otherwise otherworldly events realistically is an excellent tool to create conflict, character development and more. Although the Realism that I will be explaining will not be about the original medium, it was used for but for film and literature. Put simply; Realism is a tool or trope that can be used either to the detriment or the enhancement of the story that you will tell.

What is Realism?

Realism is often confused with what I like to call the Angst Narrative. What I mean by this is that the term Realism is often paired with media that portrays the characters, plot and their world through a lens of nihilistic fodder that subsequently gives the story a rather dark tone. The Angst Narrative, when paired with realism gives a false impression that reality is only depressing and sad.

This is not Realism.

Realism, as I said before, is just examining the real world consequences of the characters actions that further the plot. For example, if you put the classic premise of a superhero that has to defeat a villain that wants to destroy the world, you might examine the effects that living among super-powered humans would have on an average person. This doesn’t necessarily mean that those effects will be negative (although some probably will be).

Origin of Realism and its Subsequent Evolution

Realism originated in 19th century France, initially as an artistic movement, often with unemotional subject matter that is displayed as truthful and factual as it can be. This movement then blended with literature in its attempt to move away from the often dramatised, glamorised and romanticised version of life that was popular previously. Realism is often described as the opposite of idealism and romanticism.

In our culture today, it is the new craze to stamp the word realism or realistic on a piece of media often without pondering what it really means. This is definitely prominent in films at the moment, and I am not going to open that can of worms as I know there will definitely some crazed fans that will come after me in my inbox.

Subverting Realism

What I say often is that using the audience’s expectations against them is the best way to make your story memorable. These expectations are the tropes that I talk about in my Trope Talk Series, but I would like to say that subverting Realism or suddenly using Realism in order to have plot point is not the way to go. Gwen Stacy death in Spider-Man Comics comes to mind when I think of this. Basic physics and the fragility of the human body are ignored in comics and the superhero genre in general and when Gwen dies from those very physics that they have been ignoring before is very jarring and definitely not effective.

I am not saying that all writers should consider every aspect of every plot point to make sure it is realistic as possible as I think that would result in boring stories but if you are or you aren’t you need to make sure you are consistent otherwise it will come at the determent of your story.

Extra Notes

I am sorry for not putting out three pieces last week. I honestly don’t know why I didn’t complete them! But I am getting back into rhythm. I hope you enjoyed this Trope Talk. Inbox me about your favorite media that has realism in it. 

[sajc-iota]

Journey

Heading out of the gate A bridge lies ahead Crossing over water Looking on in wonder As the places patiently wait Opportunities await For more poems to be told And new perspectives to unfold The seventh poem spoken Our initial route forsaken Taking a shortcut back To the start of our journey's track A bridge which patiently waits Inviting us to the new opportunities that await Our journey has ended New memories embedded A new journey begins back inside the gate As the bridge yet again, patiently waits

Dae Heok (19S05)

9 October 2019 Poetry with Marc Nair

[sajc-iota]

The Art Classroom (a liminal space)

Growing paintings and printed photos are A template for picture transcription,

Brushes and paints are the patient tRNA and Amino acid residues waiting for their Messenger and ribosome, waiting to Becomes incomplete,

Sketchbooks of half-hatched faces await The molding hands of the pencil,

Lead still extended, yearning to touch the Thick paper, to add and add and somehow It is never finished; always more details to add, More touching-up to do,

The paints and pencils and sketchbooks Are on another table the next time,

Someone else has been progressing, Though this time, it’s more like replication; The tints and hues, the saturation and Shadow matching its parental exactly,

The room is an always-almost, An ever-more, a few-more-colours,

Leon Chen Ning (19S17)

9 October 2019 Poetry with Marc Nair

[sajc-iota]

tomorrow

"You are the future of today"

adults spin tales of black and white and children going astray.  They claim the path is easy and straight and veering isn't the way. Now I stand upon this small white bridge they spoke about. I move forward ever so carefully only to find out:

The road was never smooth or clear nor similar to what they said. The road stretched beyond forward; But into the rights and lefts. The road felt like infinite a range from 0 to 1 The road was merely a road, a lone path to the future.

I now stand on a bridge  between today and tomorrow

and perhaps tomorrow,  is closer  than we know.

Vera Lim (19S17)

9 October 2019 Poetry with Marc Nair

[sajc-iota]

June 2019 WOTM

Vera Lim (19S17)

June 2019 Writer of The Month SAJC IOTA 1st place

[sajc-iota]

June 2019 WOTM

practical

solutions i could not identify; 

all contents emptied into a

mixture of base, acid remarks.

under heat, melt our memories with

every promise that you did not keep.

leave it to cool until we crystallize

listing all possible sources of error upon

observation, my attempt to deduce 

what was limiting yielded no result

through experimenting with you, an

iota of uncertainties compounded into a

meld of miscalculations, mistaking 

effervescence for true love,

the irreversibility of my reaction 

only precipitates the end point.

let me distill the complexity of 

emotions down 

to palpable loss as

you fully dissociate yourself from 

our past, becoming volatile 

upon turning point

going through my corrections, my

only conclusion is the need for control.

Anastasia Cham (18S24)

June 2019 Writer of The Month SAJC IOTA 2nd place