Biography of Ayn Timmerman
If you read this you will judge me. That is pretty sad, but reality.
I'm a painter by trade, but when I started flunking chemistry at college last year, I started writing poems to stay awake. Its a good way to capture the feeling in a moment, and to record what happens in life. I am addicted to reading, and my best friend (a real live writer/poet) re-introduced me to poetry at some point during last year. Until I met him, I thought poets were extinct. Now I know better, and enjoy reading and writing poetry. I'm leaving this shithole State University and heading off to the School of the Art Institute of Chicago to study painting and writing, so hopefully I can keep the poety going. Wish me luck.
My favorite poets are Gary Snyder, Jim Morrison, Arthur Rimbaud, Jim Carroll, William Butler Yeats, Nick Flynn, Allen Ginsberg, Gergory Corso, Jack Kerouac, and Henry D. Thoreau (Who wrote poetry before Walden) .
I hope you enjoy reading these as much as I do writing them. I've got a notebook full, so I try to cull it down to what other people might like also. Most are themed either about human nature, real nature, college, the creative process, or random things that actually happen to me.
Ayn Timmerman's Works:
Ayn Timmerman Poems
Broken soul glass works the shards in deep a guarded heart forgets how to beat in the
One hundred years from now, we will probably all be ash drifting across the landscape.
On that day, the trees will lean gladly into the axe, birds will have the
I. Pick up on the thread, follow it from end to end, leading in to a wild place
Yeah, I Still See It.
Why do we dream if our thoughts mean nothing? Why do we cling if
I am stuck in a daily circle, a routine that limits my energy since I am a part of a cycle conforming to
With one finger I paint a Cerulean blue streak
Did You Catch It?
Abstractions of me, a view from every possible angle will reveal more than
Feel It, Believe It
I pause, each time one brushes by, determining the force of the message, processing sometimes obscure meanings that may alter the entire course of events,
The conversation always begins with a question, sometimes asking what happened to it, whatever changed? But the frustration was to great
I. The sun has brought the temperature up to
After The Fourth, Nothing Really Happens...
Boredom sets in only if you let it, when you watch a robin trot by and realize just how dumb a state bird it really is, but the maples are yellow in the light,
On the subject of being alone, I think one should take note of the heartbeat tempo deep in the ears of those who listen to silence for silence's sake. They are lucky indeed, they not only hear it fluxing in the canal, but those
A Quiet Mind
Lift up the cover and look at the things scattering, hidden, secret things; the way insects
A Quiet Mind
Lift up the cover and look
at the things scattering,
hidden, secret things;
the way insects
search for escape
when rocks are upturned.
This is not a quiet mind.