Just a Theme

School Yard bully
Cough up my money CHUMP!
I was this girl
With fists of fury as I tossed around and swirled.

I am the authority of these play grounds
No money=no monkey bar
Cross me and I'll strike you
Don't argue with the pain MASTER!

School Yard bully
Here I come DE-DUM, DE-DUM
No adults around
I need something for my fists to pound
I was this GIRL!

Revision

School Yard bulleeee Here I come DE-DUM, DE-DUM
No adults around
I need something for my fists to pound
I was this GIRL!

1 o'clock is recess time
All who seeks to play needs to pay
No money means no monkey bar
This is the fee so just pay up and run around like a bee

School Yard bulleeee
With fists of fury I tossed around and swirled.
I was this GIRL!

sketch pg A new kind of poetry!

Love hurts if you can feel the pain you feel?

Can you tell me if this feeling is fake?

Maybe then my heart won't crumble like cake!

Please can someone tell me what is the deal?

Soft heart like a tomato not like steel.

This feeling makes my body sore with aches.

Pain is too strong I can not concentrate.

Love me not, this feeling is so surreal.

Surprised touch makes mouth open like a door.

When will this blood pumper learn to defend?

Fight my battle help my vision to see!

Hurray battle won today I adore.

I guess my beating chest has learned to fend.

Just leave it up to silly me to flee!

A poem (Sketch Page)

Today a poem should be read while on a train

A poem should be painted on crystal glass

A poem should talk about past experiences the kind that makes one smile and occasionally cry

A poem should infiltrate all the minds of the teachers and turn them into zombie soldiers

Once read out loud a poem should make your ears ring with joy from hearing each line

A poem would have made me sad

A poem is the only antidote to boredom

Some people know how to dance, run, fight, and, be pleasant

A poem is a waste of time that you can't get back

Once upon a time

Poetry wasn't poetry it was just another way to keep track of one's feelings like the pages of a dairy

Sketch Page (Cabezón)

 6 Story word

I tried to incorporate Amy Beeder's use of descriptive words in her poem Cabezón to reshape my six story word piece of fiction I began in class. Just as Beeder describes her surroundings I too try to master this style.

 Why do I have to drive on this crowded highway to commute a long way on a rainy day? I don't even like any of these professors. Stuck on the highway as the huge pellets of rain pound on my rusted yellow Toyota two door car stinks like the alley I had to park my car in to make it to class on time. The sun just came up and I can't wait for it to go down. Stuck in traffic on the way home is what I will be. A rainy day just makes my life so much worse. Sometimes I feel curse like the witches who lived in Salem. I wish I could like these classes but I just don't! First day of class the professors always ask why did you pick this class? My mind wonders and I think about picking roses with the thorns still attached trying not to prick my fingers. This careful picking process is the same procedure I used  to pick classes. Obviously I didn't avoid all the thorns when picking classes and my hands red as dirt in Mexico are left bleeding. I chose the worse god damn classes!

Writer's Post "We Real Cool"

We Real Cool by Gwendolyn Brooks is a nice poem to read and listen to.  The way in which Gwendolyn constructed her poem is something that I too would like to try and incorporate into my own work. I have a passion to write poems and adopting this structure or one similar to this poem may shine some light on my own works.  There are eight lines in her poem several of which all end in “we”. However, short her poem maybe its use of diction allowed me to recall the scene in which she was inspired by when she wrote this piece. I was able to see seven people playing pool after school in the month of June singing and or listening to Jazz and having lots of fun who were on the path of death.  This poem was straight forward as far as the message it wanted readers to get after reading it. The audio component also shed some light on Gwendolyn’s technique of how she constructed her poem.  Listening to Gwendolyn’s explanations of how and why she was inspired to write this poem took the poem on a deeper level. 

Listening to her read the poem after I read it was interesting because it was like I was listening to a new poem. She has such a distinguished voice. Her tone reminds me of a deep down south accent or of someone who lives in Louisiana. The way Gwendolyn said the words in her poem aided the construction.  As she said each word it came to life and made the poem more appealing. For example, when I was reading her poem I came across the word June. This word doesn’t mean anything to me more than a month. However, to Gwendolyn June was more than just a month it was a “nice, gentle, non- controversial, fragrant, enjoyable, pleasant month that everybody loves.”  I think I’m going to try and use words that have a lot of meaning to me that wouldn’t necessarily mean much to others.  This element might make my work more enjoyable to read and help with my writers block which I get sometimes.

Philosophy of Love

  I am a young radiant girl that has never had the pieces of her heart shredded like the cheese one put's on their taco. Look into my hazel eyes and there lays my passion. I have a golden retriever and he enjoys to eat and play. I find joy in eating pizza, and playing soccer.  My heart pounds as I run up and down the soccer field. I am addicted to this sport like a junkie. When I bite into my sizzling hot pepperoni pizza it makes my taste buds sing. I am a young girl of nine with an elementary school education confused about matters of the heart. I wonder if the joy's I experience and the heart pounds I feel deep within my chest are whole and pure rather, than broken and corrupted.