Wednesday, April 30, 2014
Words sliding like
And coating, sweetly
So rich, tasteful
Like Roman soldiers
Into open sores
Then death, slowly
It’s life and death
And the next step
Words, words, words
That begin and end
But continue on
Until the reader begins and ends
That is poetry
Tuesday, April 29, 2014
Nouns, pronouns, adjectives, conjunctions,
Verbs, prepositions, adverbs, interjections,
Locked together by a Beat.
Each Beat has its own stamp.
Each stamp its own stamper.
Each stamper its own heart.
The hearts of poems are unique
Like snowflakes or fingerprints.
Hearts can vary the speed and length to control the tempo and change the message.
Size can be deceiving and
Beats can be ocean waves,
Ripples in a pond,
Or a cannonball in the pool.
Poetry is the speaker for the Beat,
Enhanced by the words,
Controlled from within.
Poetry is staring at a ceiling and finding words
To relate that ceiling to your love life
Because the right words can make any man think
That the ceiling above his head
Perfectly relates to
Poetry is a complex piece of art that most critics
But those few critics who take the time to look at
And observe the art form find it
Not only beautiful, but
Important for us
Poetry is an emotion that is not captured by one word
But is rather captured by alliteration
Or maybe it’s captured by an image or two
Or maybe some rhymes
Or a metaphor
A simile or
Poetry is a skill that is deeper than meaning
Poetry is thought provoking thought that is teaming
Poetry is needed and even though that I kid
I desire the art that makes language live
British Literature E Block
April 30 2014
A world without expression
is a world of depression.
Poetry is an avenue which people drive on,
Leaving tracks of expressed feelings and life experiences
Poetry is a person’s canvas
Brushed stroke by strokes with words
Words and thoughts of communication.
Silk red metaphors, bright yellow similes, and flaming orange rhymes
Poetry is a song
Repetition and rhythm, the pattern of sound
Pouring of emotions like rain showers in April
Meters of unstressed and stressed dew
Poetry is radiance
Illuminating all darkness that lies in the heart
Creating a blank verse for beginnings
Life is harmonious in poetry
My feelings create poetry
Your distinctiveness envisions poetry
Our voices define poetry.
Consider poetry as a work of art
Similar to a painting, sculpture, drawing, or photograph.
A poem should paint a picture in the reader’s mind
Using rich imagery, figurative language, similes and metaphors.
A poet should not rely on the words in a poem to tell the story,
But rather the systematic sequence of events painted by the words chosen.
Each word and phrase is chosen for a specific reason
Therefore poets need to take connotation and denotation into consideration.
All groups of rhyming words are not poems
And all poems are not groups of rhyming words.
A poem is not determined by a mere sound that two words mimic
Nor by a set meter that the words must fall into.
People so often get caught up in the specific structure of a poem
But structure is the least important aspect.
Poetry should never be forced to fit a certain format;
The words should naturally flow onto the page.
One of the reasons poetry is sometimes despised is that it is confusing.
A way to avoid confusion is include allusions to events, people, and places.
However, sometimes confusion makes a poem even more interesting
It all depends on what the poet is trying to achieve.
And that leads to the absolute most important part of the art of poetry:
Every decision is up to the poet.
All of the power rests in the poet’s hands and all the poet needs is inspiration,
And that is the key to poetry.
Lines, rhymes, stanzas and breaks
Meters, pentameters, verses and
Most importantly words
Create an image the poet is trying to portray.
Poets pour their life, hopes, dreams and experiences onto paper
And people read and interpret what they see.
Even though it may not be what they are supposed to see.
Poems are open ended
They are filled with emotion
But every person lives a different life
And that emotion can be taken in any direction.
Poetry is up to the reader
The poet gives a foundation for readers to start with
The real power behind the poem is up to them.
Poetry can be fun and upbeat like Doctor Seuss
Or filled with despair and sorrow like Edgar Allan Poe.
There is a poem for every mood and moment
Because it all depends on you.
Wednesday, April 16, 2014
To Just Be
I don’t experience this type of pain first hand
I don’t know what it feels like to be pushed deeper into the dark
Farther into my closet, farther away from the truth
But movies, shows, videos, stories explain the pain some cannot understand.
How do these kids, teens, adults face cruelty about something they hadn’t planned
Why are there people who make these beautiful individuals go stark?
People who are so angry they punish anyone who seems different
People that are trying to make others feel as irrelevant as a grain of sand.
No one deserves to feel like they cannot be themselves
As Ash states there are three rules in life:
Be Authentic. Be Direct. Be Unapologetic.
These rules all point to one thing.
Why does one person feel they are that much better that they can destroy lives
Innocent lives that are now scarred
With cuts and marks that will never heal
Some so extreme that they never got the chance.
There is an opportunity to fight this
It must be stopped
Because no one should be punished for just trying to live out the three rules
To just be.
Tuesday, April 15, 2014
Three hours go by as we head down south
Hasn’t rained in days but still not a drought
With nothing to do I let my thoughts entertain me
Only problem is that I’m reeeeally really hungry
So we stop at Sheetz
For a few good eatz
To stretch our feetz
And in the process
I checked out some tweetz
After a few minuets though
We got back in our car
And continued the drive the seemed farther than far
It got really dark, which is kind of bummer
So I closed my eyes and took a quick slumber
Another hour passed and we are still not there
But I really don’t care
Or dare to ask one more time
“Where are we?”
So I keep my mouth shut and let it be
Like the Beatles back in the 70s
Can’t say that I enjoy long car rides
But ill let this one slide
After all, I was able to get some work done
This way I could go out Saturday night and have some fun
There are some or a lot of things you can’t just get over
There are a lot of wounds that take longer to heal
Than the standard six weeks
So why do we feel so weak
When we need to ask for help?
It’s because our society sticks a bandaid over addiction
To cover up the mess
And feeds a cocktail of pills to the mentally ill
So they’ll quit their whining
And they just “get over it”
But what about when that bandaid gets torn off
From being picked at too much
Or the pills don’t work the way the said
And just make you feel a different kind of crazy
Or even after the standard six weeks
I’m afraid of falling down again
And becoming one with the kitchen tiles
I fear my teeth falling out
Like that reoccurring nightmare that means your life is a mess
But I did my time, so I’m fine.
Monday, April 14, 2014
I used to be able to sit cross-legged when I was 5
I would curl up into a little ball
Most likely because I was 4 feet tall
And my body could bend in all sorts of ways
And bruises and scraps would magically go away
Like the problems we faced on a regular day
Kindergarten was where we used to rule
But 11 years later and my mind is all torn
I’ve got people to see and work to do
And a laundry list of things to get done
Some days it’s likely I don’t see the sun
Cuz I’m crammed in my room suffering from work
And I complain to my father
That it’s senior year and I should be out.
We all have hard.
And that’s all I really have to worry about.
But you see
Its my complaining and maintaining which
Makes me realize what I’m saying
And how my words actually sound
To the people I see around
The ones who struggle and fight for food every night
And those who are forced to find the hardest ways
To get any sort of pay
We all have hard.
But I see
More than the average rich white American.
Because I see
The opportunities given to me
My parents always told me “Don’t waste that food on your plate”
Because food was a gift but I was too cross-legged to see that.
It’s the gifts I’ve been given that I need to make a living
Not for me
But make a living to better someone.
Life is about relationships
And I need to make them meaningful
There’s no major in college for the collage I’ll major in
Relationships with people of different backgrounds I’ll savior it
Helping people finding jobs to raise their kids who do nothing but sit
Around and wait for someone to educate their minds that haven’t been lit
Because I complain and maintain your average GPA
But I’ll gladly try to fix problems of the world without seeing day
Because sometimes that cross-legged kid curled up inside you like a little ball
Feels forced to change the ones who struggle into the ones
Who can tell their dad it’s their senior year
And that their family no longer has something to fear
Because they will get an education and a job
That can keep this family alive and away from the mob
And they thank their parents for the opportunities they were given
They will live well while wilding living.
My body used to bend in all sorts of ways
Now it’s sore and rigid and I must stretch to play
But my mind which was once so torn at 16
Is now bending in directions and I’ve got a new view
And it starts with the relationship of me and my food
Because I said so
He yells as the door slams in my face
The whipping wind blows through me
As I stand facing the place
That I call home
In a square of light I see my mother
The gravitational pull of shame
Keeps her eyes fixed to the floor
Father’s not the only one to blame
I fall asleep on a park bench
Listening to the creek of swings
Whispering memories of childhood
The dry crunch of wood-chips brings
Me back to those days
I awake and walk to school
Through the halls I hear the gossip
Kids pointing out my dirt stained clothes
Unaware of my hardship
Frustration builds inside of me
Without a way to make it stop
They circle like vultures on the hunt
I’m on the edge about to drop
Collapse into myself
The tears well up I need to hide
I burst inside a room about to blow
But a solitary student’s in my way
“Get out” I shout, “Because I said so”
I walk down the halls and feel restrained .
“You should be happy!”
-What isn’t wrong
The expectation to smile at every person I see through the halls
In passing it’s profane to respond to “how are you?” with
-“I’m doing fine”.
Nobody cares enough to hear the truth.
It’s irreverent, it’s offensive it’s improper , its profane…
But shouldn’t you care? Shouldn’t someone care?
I don’t want to be dishonest with you.
So, don’t make me.
Don’t make me create a new character just for you
Don’t make me do this.
Be a leader
A person who is independent
One who does not follow
A leader is someone who does not succumb to pressures
Some one who doesn’t conform to society
Be your own person
A leader is someone with strength, bravery, compassion,
Hope, and courage
And through it all he is one who stays true to his self
Being a leader is not always the easiest thing to do but
As Robert Frost said take the road less travelled, that has made all the difference