Ars Poetica

Poetry is

Words sliding like

Cream, slowly

And coating, sweetly

So rich, tasteful

Poetry is

Feelings smashing

Like Roman soldiers

Waves crashing

Into open sores

Poetry is

Love speaking

Then death, slowly

It’s life and death

And the next step

Poetry is

Words, words, words

That begin and end

But continue on

Until the reader begins and ends

That is poetry

The Beat (Ars Poetica)

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.

Each individual.

Hearts can vary the speed and length to control the tempo and change the message.

Size can be deceiving and

influential.

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

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

His love

Life

Poetry is a complex piece of art that most critics

Consider meaningless

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

To see

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

Two?

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

Ars Poetica

Waylon Jin

British Literature E Block

Mr. O’Brien

April 30 2014

Ars Poetica

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.

Ars Poetica

 

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.

 

Ars Poetica

Ars Poetica

 Lines, rhymes, stanzas and breaks

Meters, pentameters, verses and

Words

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.

To Just Be

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.

Car Ride

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

Get Over It-the unprompted poem about societal norms

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”

Right?

 

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.

I Don't Waste Food

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

Of school

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

The Underdog

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”

Normal Day

I walk down the halls and feel restrained .

“You should be happy!”

“What’s wrong?”

-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.

Terrell Smith

Leadership

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 yourself

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