Meta Poem

Through Poetry

How do you get it out?

Through words

Through language

through the writing of a poem

you release

it doesn't

make sense

it does

it doesnt matter

you get it out

Out 

into the world

onto the paper

feelings

statements

rants

explanations

and you don't have to keep it in

you can let it out

in Poetry.

 

LIFE!

 

My Family

in Richmond

in New York

to Maryland

in Pennslyvania

we stay together

Memories from loved ones

the serious

the not so serious

my rose pillow

Richy

Cloudy blue blanket

with Scout with Bella and Oreo

without many people who  I loved

and with many people that I love

The SERIOUS

and the release of HAPPINESS

of joking

riding on a chair through the halls of Alex's

sitting in maria rosas kitchen

running up and down 7th avenue

screaming with rain dripping down our shoulders

and whipped cream running over us

Making stupid indescribeable faces with Brigid and Danyel

until we fall over laughing trying to catch breath

with Ivey at the beach 

making mud pies

and goopy sand

running through our fingers

My dad swining be from his shoulders

into the pool

my smile huge

my mother braiding my hair 

humming while she braids each one

my brother putting me into a headlock as he laughs at me

wiggle and spaz

until I break free laughing too.

I guess it's easier to explain

the fun things

the funny things

the things you enjoy most

and somehow the harder things

finds a place 

but all of it together

makes up

me

and my life

 

 

Into the Garden

 

A silouette

in the front

of the yard

it slowly moves

wondering

where to start?

A hose in hand

steps foward

into the Garden

My hands

grip

to the chains of the swing

The rust on the metal sinks into my palms

so I move them move up on the chain

my feet pump further to the stars

I can feel the breeze

on my legs

as I kick into the air

I feel

the best I can feel

The water,

from the hose

taps each flower

on petals

on stems

on leaves

on  hands

on

the swing

my smile broadens

as I swing higher

and higher

my legs stretch towards the sky

feeling bullets of water

and dirt

then I stop

the air halts the swing freezes

and my toes hit the mulch

below the swing

my smile shrinks and the lines on either side slide further into my cheeks,

and the silouette backs up

into the dark again

 the hose

turns off.

 

 Intention: At first I though I was just writing about on the swing and my dad was watering the plants because like for some reason I always though of that as pretty or poetic like a nice picture but then I was thinking about it and it was more than that because i actually felt soemthing while I was swinging like it was more of a big omment than just casually swinging. SO the big idea I wanted to get across was about childhood. Like when you're really little and you think that everything is just fun and games. Also that you actually can have fun doing anything. And the point that there is a certain innocence you know, no one expects you to make a decision. And everything is just care free. And it's also just about growing up. Like i wrote this poem thinking only about 2 years back, when i was on my swing. And just everything semed so much more fun than now. Like a couple of weekes ago, i went on the swing and I felt like nothing, like what's so fun? And in a way that makes me really sad, because you cant go back to when that was fun and if you try it just isnt the same. I think it has a lot to do with change, from really small to growing up. And there is some pain in that but also you want to keep moving foward. Some part of you wants to stay a little kid, but another wants you to grow up out of that and I think when you're this age like 12, 13 thats how you feel like torn between childhood and adulthood.

 

Process: When I was in third grade I wrote a poem that was like this, but like a lot worse. I actually wrote it right after I was done swinging and it was summer and my dad had been really into the garden like he was always taking care of it. So I just wrote it, thinking it sounded pretty. Now when we started the poetry unit I thought back to this poem I couldnt find the one from third grade but I remebered the best I could. But now instead of making it all about my dad and how he had the house I made the silouette more of the mystrey part and me the focus, because when I started writing it again I realized it was more about me and my childhood. So I added a lot more details in the middle so I could explain how happy I was and make the fact that I was so innocent and could enjoy all of this. Then at the end I reffered to the silouette (my dad) again so I could hint more about how he or the silouette kind of represented my childhood and it taking a step back.

 

 

Inspired Poem for:

We would Like you to know

 

We are Different.

 

We are all people

Some can be

docile

Some can be

revolutionaires

We aren't

all survivors

 

The government

gives us a chance

the government

doesn't

give

them

a chance

We are different

we get treated differently

 

You can

go back

you can

change what

has been done

 

You can

always

go foward.

 

 

 

The Oceans Whisper

 

 

 

When the sun goes down 

We go out 

feet hit the pavement 

flashlights in hand 

head down the dark road 

to the docks 

to the water 

to the sand

to the stars. 

All five flashlights 

flutter along 

all different directions

different speeds 

Our feet bare 

the rocks pang

at my heel 

but i dont care 

because when my feet hit the sand 

feeling it 

between my toes 

and my hands plummit 

into the water 

feeling the salt 

hit and sink 

into my skin 

and my eyes hit the stars 

like spotlights

on stage

 

Everything stops 

no one speaks 

all are hyptmotized 

by the lure of the oceans whisper 

and the feel of everything just 

stopping.

 

 

 

 

Tip of My Tongue

 

It's on the tip

of my tongue

I hear it in my thoughts

I know I'll get it out

but I don't,

It's great in my head

i have it all planned out

I have it in my words

my explanations

it all sounds perfect

like I finally have it

And when I try to get it out of my head

from my thoughts

to my tongue

to the pen

to the paper

it stops

gets stuck in the middle of my throat

stuck in the middle of the pen

between the tube of ink

and the spring

and like at any moment

those words will spring foward

covered in black ink

but

It won't come out.

 

But I think

It will always

sound better in my head.

 

 Intention: The idea I was trying to get out was that you don't always have to get out all of your emotions. Like it's good that you dont bottle it up. But sometimes you can't get out what you're really trying to say. So that's why they're your feelings because you're the one meant to think them and play with the ideas. You don't always have to give away all of your feelings. Like it's good sometimes, but sometimes if you can't thats okay too. And you can still  have a better version in your head but like it keeps slipping away. And I just have this one. I still think it's good but the one in my head I think will always be better. I also wanted to say that it's not just for writing poems or stories, it can be telling someone or sharing your own emotions that you really dont want to share because you dont know what to  say. But if you just say it they can still understand what you're trying to say. And it doesnt always have to be a huge awesome thing thats really nice sounding it can just be what you want to say in the moment. Because I feel like when you put too much time into it, it's not as good as when you just start writing some random thought . All of my poems that I just thought of at the moment I think  are better than the ones i put alot of thought into.

 

Process: I started developing this poem in my head when I was walking home from school. I was just having one of those like random thoughts when you're alone and have no one to talk to. And I was thinking about how you can have all of these ideas and emotions in your head, and you can't always get them out the wayyou want to. And when I was thinking of that i realized oh this could be a poem. But when I tried to get it inot words it sounded a little wierd. Like it sounded better when I was just thinking about it. SO when I first wrote it I was just writing what I remeberd but then I really thought back and tried to think of the exact words I used and over time I think it got better because I used my  actual thoughts I was thinking in the  moment and I think my poems are better when I dont think about it too much before I write it. I just start a thought and try to go with it. Also I changed this line in the middle, I said before like " it was stuck in the middle of the pen. but i described it more and said between the tube of ink and the spring. I changed it to spring because I really felt like a thought would just spring up and i would write it but it didnt and it just felt really stuck in the springy part.

 

 

Alice in Wonderland Mode

 

Big green

and broad

little shards of grass

sprinkle  and shine

the clouds move slightly

sun beams down on my face

trees quiver

they  move

to a beat

I walk, I cant hear

 

Im here

In my alice in wonderland

mode

I want to sit in the flowers

lie down

sing to the birds

speak softly to the fish

in the stream

paint that magical picture

that I know

can not so easily be painted

I know this won't happen

because when my legs hit the grass

my fingers wade through flowers

I know I'll go back to the world

to troubles

to stress

I dont want to deal with it

I want to stay like Alice forever

but I cant

no one can

the world is too rough

and the grass is too soft.

 

 

 

Intention: What I wanted to say in this poem was that you can rest you can take vacations and breaks from your life but you cant forget them. Like you can always put away troubles and what's bothering you but you cant get rid of it so quickly and without acknowledging it. You always have your real life and problems right there in the outside. I also wanted to say that you dont always every second want to have the easiest life with no problem what so ever. Like youu dont want something terribly horrible to happen but no life has no problems and you wouldnt want to live like that sometimes you need drama. Thats what I meant by the grass is too soft and the world is too rough. Because really you sometimes  feel really stuck like I dont want to do this or choose this path its too hard and you wouldnt even think of one too easy. You kind of need to find your own in between place.

 

Process: I thought of this poem when I was in the park. It was just really pretty and I felt like writing a poem about it. And before the whole thing was about the park and describing everything and it was good but it really had no message. So then I started writing about how its hard to be there all the time and you cant do that always. Oh and I thought of The alice in wonderland thing because that is and was my favorite disney movie. I just love how magical and pretty and kind of wierd everything in that was and I kind of used that as a model and how alice was feeling when she was laying in the flowers and with her cat then all of a sudden she fell in that whole so like really easily she went from peacful to filling a whole room with tears. I also changed a line from "that magical picture that can never be painted" to "that magical picture i know can not be so easily painted" because I just felt like the first one was so pesimistic like you can never be happy and that really not what I wanted to say. I wanted to say just dont leave your troubles behind and expect them to leave magically you have to work on them.

 

The color of my room

 

The color of my room

has always been

blue

not too dark and not so light that you couldn't see it

it's a beautiful shade

of robins egg blue.

See now

I dont even really like blue

I really dont like it at all

but I havent changed it

I havent even thought about it

I picked out this color when i was 6

This color

this blue

was the best thing that could happen

I picked it out

it was mine

no one told me what it should be it was mine

my choice

I won't change it because

I'm afraid I'll miss it

I mean its just a color

just a room

but this happens with

bigger choices

that i wont change

becuase i was young

because I felt this way

at that time

I would feel like I was betraying myself

and i would always feel different

because of this color

but every time i get hyped up

over a stupid descion

I end up loving it

but yet its always

harder

no matter what

to make another desicon

another time.

 

Intention: My intention for this poem was just really trying to figure out this thing I have with change, so it was really more for me to figure out than the reader. Because like there are things about me things about all of us that we know we do or we know we feel or have but we dont really know whats it about or why. Like changing i dont know, I hate it, I feel like everything should be the same that i do, one year i go to the beach then i have to go every other year too. I just feel like if I dont do that one thing i wont enjoy anything else, and no one can talk me out of it, they might say "oh it'll still be the same" but that doesnt mean it will be, something will always be different and i am always going to have to deal with it. So in this poem that's what I was trying to figure out.

 

Process: So at first I really hated this poem. I knew I wanted to write a poem about how I struggle with change and the first time I wrote it, I just felt like I rambled on and felt like a therapist. Like saying "I really think I need to figure out what the change can be" And I just felt really cheesy. So I went more into how it was about how I felt about change like what it's done not just i dont like change. SO I went more into how I thought I was betryaing myself as a little kid. And really actually trying to figure out why change is so hard instead of just writing a whole poem complaining about how i hate change but whats that going to do, you know. How will complaining and writing about this hatred make anything more poetic or better, its just ranting so I made it more of a discovery poem I guess 

 

The Little Things

 

What gives my life purpose?

For me

right now

it's the little things.

Because really,

what have I done?

What could i have done?

so far

so big

and extravagent?

But now

what makes me happy

its the the little things

going to the beach feeling my hands in the sand

listening to the oceans hushes and whispers

laughing with my friends

feeling the bubbling in your chest

the tingles up your arms

feeling the best you can

just doing whatever

whatever

you can do to relax to enjoy what you can do

what you've been doing.

I have my whole life right there

in front of me

I'm in no rush.

I'll be patient for

that first moment

that I know

right there

in that second

it's big

it's life changing.

 

Found Poem from "Fences" By: August Wilson

 

You're right

I'll take care of your baby

for you

cause

like you say

she's innocent

and you can't visit

the sins

of your father

upon the child

A motherless child

has got

a hard time

from right now

this child

got a mother

but you

a womanless man.