Word Poem   (Map of My Heart) 

Loving the lime juice on the

Fire escape,

I smell

The smell of home.

Her home has become

My home at the same time. 

 

Reactions,

To Maggie by

Michele

Zina

Erik

Karl

 

I wonder where this

Will Go

From here, I

Wait for more ideas

How to let it happen

 

A grudge on you from

Prospect Park Tobacco,

Grass and Snow and Footprints and Trails

And finding a place to

Be with

Movie Theatre Popcorn,

Screaming at Hannah and

Text messaging a boy and

Ignats, fat cat.

 

Playing with glitter glue

Beans and water

Maracas and Play-Do and we are

In kindergarten

Sappho and Ingrid

Banned from the water shelf for the rest of the

Day

 

Swish,

I hate tinsel

Teeth,

When plump dies on the

silver paint.

The word curdling in my ears as I

Hope

For release.

"Pleasantly Plump,"

I am reminded.

 

Phish Phood,

Kernels to the concrete

Landing from above.

Maybe shatter I

Can't tell but they

Hit

A man in a wheel chair

There's a popcorn bag, too.

Words

Coming from inside.

We rush to the side and check.

Run around the top.

 

Road trips.

Trips to the beach with

Peanut butter and jelly on crackers and

A cucumber to dip into the sea and

A white sheet that

She lays on

Sunhat, Sunscreen, and

Attempted Relaxation

Goes in water for ten minutes and

Returns to the sheet.

The sand sticks to our wet feet and we dust it off

It gets on the square of white she is laying on and she

Notices

But doesn't say a word.

 

Greetings at the door

Smiling and everyday love

She runs around us and

I miss her now.

She isn't

Gone, fully.

Just her body.

 

Waiting for something good to be and

Finally getting it.

 

 

Meta-Poem 

Jot the words of

Feelings flying from your forehead

Landing on the paper

Waiting to be.

And formed they are.

 

They want to

Make

Something

From their time spent

Hanging from your

Upper lip

and

Ear lobes

And they want to be

Freed from you

Away from you

Recorded in time.

 

They've moved on

To the paper

Where I'm sure they'll be

Excited to

Finally.

Leave.

 

There's one

Word

You can't seem to find

Hanging from

Your fingertip.

                                           "I want to stay,"

                                           The word tells you

                                           When you find him hiding

But you shake your fist and

Make the word

Get off

 

And the word is

Splattered

On the page.

And you don't

Understand

 

Poetry at its best you

Force words

Down my throat.

 

 

This poem is another poem that I decided to write over break:

 

Crisps of leaves 

Fall

Only fifteen minutes

More

Beside the pond

Murk, dirt, frog,

Salamander.

In the bucket, on the rock,

Escape.

 

Basking in the sun.

Song she sings.

                                        "Where are you?

                                                  I hadn't realized

                                        You were gone,"

Up from the sun

To the edge of the pond

Looking for the 

Shiny back,

Silver green back,

Glazed eye.

 

The net's handle, long,

Was fake enough.  She

Ran from the rock

                                        "Come in,"

Shake of the head,

                                        "Almost,"

She has heard, but insists.

                                        "Come in,"

 

Outside

The stars swarm

Shoot

Overwhelm.

 

intention:  in this poem, i just started to write.  i started to write about the highlights of my break with her and then i realized it was just her.  what we did didn't even matter--it was just her that i was trying to put across.  i mean, she's my best friend and i wanted to show what we do.  i wanted the reader to have a sense of friendship, you know?  just friendship.  like no one's in control of each other, but i just wanted to show friends in a different way than saying "oh, she's the only thing i have, she's my best friend and i love her.  yay this is a perfect friendship." because it's not a perfect friendship, right?  is there suck thing?  if there were a perfect friendship with no disagreements, it would be pretty boring.  they would run out of things to say.

 

 

Your Mama's Hand

Blocks of paint on your

Front door waiting

Colors melting as you

Come inside 

For summer lunch and 

Grab your Mama's hand and you

Tell her you're  

Waiting to die that you 

Want to live but still

You are waiting to 

Die together

Wriggling around in your

Coffin of feather and 

When the 

Kids come to see

Who you were and 

How you lived but

No

Your tombstone is not carved

So they don't wonder

Or see

Or find

How much 

Importance you 

Had and you 

Gave 

And you 

Don't care 

Don't glance over at these 

Children.

 

 

I Would Like You To Know 

The whole of our

Human race

Is sure as hell not the same but

Don't let yourself speak

For us all because

We

All think separately and

I know it's known

That we're not the same

And stereotypes are sent

Everyone's way at least

At first.

I need to hear

The difference

See

The difference

Before I know it even exists.

We don't all

Serve each other

Serve ourselves

Or Serve the children.

These blue eyed

Hazel eyed

Brown eyed

Green eyed ones

We do the same as us.

 

 

 

From My Window

From my window

I see through the glass and I

Know this is normal and there's

Glass

On the Concrete so I

I stay inside.

I want to get

Get out of this, out of this

Neighborhood but I

Doubt you can call it a neighborhood

Where we hardly even treat each other as

People.

 

 

They

They want me to be

Scared

Cultured

And oblivious to their

Plans.

Thing is, I

Am not afraid of them in fact

I

Am angry,

Mad at the stereotyping and

Thoughts of their civilizations

As superior.

They chatter to each other, giggle

To each other and

I'm here

Still

Angry and

He still had left? 

 

 

Waited For Me

It's

Over.

War, violence, blood, guns, screaming is

Over and done and I am

Back

 

Back to my

Darling and we kiss

One time out of one in

Two and a half years of

Darling deprivation.

 

To be home is

A miracle, I believe?  One I've

Missed and

Longed for and

At last I am home,

Resuming life I

Hope.

 

I've returned

Found her

And find out find out

Find out

My daughter daughter

Seven

Has passed by, away.

 

 

 

Jesus

Hand on his hip

And I watch the man

The roof as his haven

Burning Jesus

Mary and Joseph their

Figures in the smoke

His friend wanders up

Found him almost and I

Retreat.

 

 

 

Inspired Poem

I walk back

The woman with the ostrich feather hat speaks,

Don't let me drift.

But with a low sigh I

Push her away

 

Lump of sugar

We run from you

Your

Tiny grains

Sweet

But we run

 

It's too sweet for us

The horses

Help us along.

 

I didn't ask

For this much of a

Responsibility

I

Just

Wanted

            You.

 

 

Surrender 

Fighting off

Your conscience

Is not at all easy--

You have to have

Reason

Wit

To outsmart

Your conscience in a battle.

 

Your feelings, your

Your mind

Not just construction

Nor robotics

And engineering

And science

Not just a technical twist of tubes

 

We're still different

 

trying

to fight your conscience

block out all emotion

and consideration of right and wrong

but

Surrender.

 

 

 

Mother's Day

it is

today.

i am sitting on the chair

and she sits behind me

legs

hanging off the side of the bed

and we are talking

about

how he didn't do anything for her

didn't plan anything special for today.

 

how she thinks her mothering styles have changed

and she asks me

and i turn around to face her

i walk over

and i agree

and she asks me how

and i have no idea what to say.

 

i tell her we're all changing a lot lately.

 

she nods

i

give her a hug

and she starts to cry.

 

i've never seen her like this before

and it's obvious this is

the type of crying that you can't easily

stop

once you've started.

 

she's trying to talk

and says

it's okay

but i hug her

and tell her i love her

 

she sucks it in through her nose

and slowly stops

crying

and we walk into the bathroom to find

a

band-aid for my knee

which has a huge scrape

from falling

and a rash around the scrape

from an allergic reaction to

the previous band-aid.

 

she has already

dropped the subject of before

but she starts up again, crying

and i hug her again

and it's my turn to tell her

it's okay

and she says to me back

 

"don't take care

of me."

 

i'm surprised

taken back

and i let go of her shoulders

 

i am offended

but i understand that she

doesn't want

her own daughter

to take away her role

                of mother.

 

You Will (Emulated from "Lines of the Fortune Cookie")

Your life will be a stream

     of ideas that can never fully form.

You know where to find the key to her heart.

When you sing a song, a premature baby is born.

I     love     you

 

Poetry and words overflow,

     Come out of the cup and land on you.

Your acne gel has not been doing its proper job.

Your beauty will break someone's heart.

Your eyes

     Make me so emotional that I     Can't     Look.

You will loose something of no importance soon,

     And it won't matter.

 

You are envied by just more than half of the people you meet.

Are your legs tired?

     You been running through someone's mind

          All Day.

Your joints will

     Ache

          Tomorrow.

Go fix your computer.

Stop wondering

     About things that you can't have.

Remember to CAPITALIZE the first letter after a period.

Don't forget to be positive.

Favorite Poetry:

 

 

Mother's Day 

it is

today.

i am sitting on the chair

and she sits behind me

legs

hanging off the side of the bed

and we are talking

about

how he didn't do anything for her

didn't plan anything special for today.

 

how she thinks her mothering styles have changed

and she asks me

and i turn around to face her

i walk over

and i agree

and she asks me how

and i have no idea what to say.

 

i tell her we're all changing a lot lately.

 

she nods

i

give her a hug

and she starts to cry.

 

i've never seen her like this before

and it's obvious this is

the type of crying that you can't easily

stop

once you've started.

 

she's trying to talk

and says

it's okay

but i hug her

and tell her i love her

 

she sucks it in through her nose

and slowly stops

crying

and we walk into the bathroom to find

a

band-aid for my knee

which has a huge scrape

from falling

and a rash around the scrape

from an allergic reaction to

the previous band-aid.

 

she has already

dropped the subject of before

but she starts up again, crying

and i hug her again

and it's my turn to tell her

it's okay

and she says to me back

 

"don't take care

 

of me."

 

i'm surprised

taken back

and i let go of her shoulders

 

i am offended

but i understand that she

doesn't want

her own daughter

to take away her role

                of mother.

 

intention: this poem is something that happened to me with my mom.  i would consider us close, but i couldn't really understand why she said that to me.  i didn't understand it, and i was kind of hurt by it.  this is actually something that has changed me because i didn't know that my mom had a side like this.  usually i can figure her out, so this experience was a different kind of experience for me.  i've known her my whole life, and i know what she's doing, so this was weird for me.  i'm trying to show that in this poem, and i'm also trying to make myself realize that i don't know everything.  i guess it's also showing that you don't really know a person as well as you might think.  it's not like she was hiding anything, it's just i'd never seen her as vulnerable as i did on mother's day. it's also not like i didn't know her, it's a side i'd never seen in my life of her.  i was really surprised.  this poem may seem kind of blunt, but it definitely has alternative meaning to just--"i was surprised," or "i was offended," or something along the lines of that.  i felt weird.  i'm sure many people can relate to this--like you feel surprised it actually happened, you would have never thought about this happening.

 

process:  for this poem, i was trying to take a different approach.  i thought about something that actually did change my point of view on something or change me in some way, and this was it.  it was in class, and i just started to write.  it flowed and came out pretty well, and a lot of the original poem is still here.  all i really did in revision was change a few words and rearrange a few words.  the meaning didn't change for me--it was still seeing something in a new light.  i felt that it was pretty good, and got its point across.

 

 

Word Poem   (Map of My Heart) 

Loving the lime juice on the

Fire escape,

I smell

The smell of home.

Her home has become

My home at the same time. 

 

 

Reactions,

To Maggie by

Michele

Zina

Erik

Karl

I wonder where this

Will Go

From here, I

Wait for more ideas

How to let it happen

 

 

A grudge on you from

Prospect Park Tobacco,

Grass and Snow and Footprints and Trails

And finding a place to

Be with

Movie Theatre Popcorn,

Screaming at Hannah and

Text messaging a boy and

Ignats, fat cat.

 

 

Playing with glitter glue

Beans and water

Maracas and Play-Do and we are

In kindergarten

Sappho and Ingrid

Banned from the water shelf for the rest of the

Day

 

 

Swish,

I hate tinsel

Teeth,

When plump dies on the

silver paint.

The word curdling in my ears as I

Hope

For release.

"Pleasantly Plump,"

I am reminded.

 

 

Phish Phood,

Kernels to the concrete

Landing from above.

Maybe shatter I

Can't tell but they

Hit

A man in a wheel chair

There's a popcorn bag, too.

Words

Coming from inside.

We rush to the side and check.

Run around the top.

 

 

Road trips.

Trips to the beach with

Peanut butter and jelly on crackers and

A cucumber to dip into the sea and

A white sheet that

She lays on

Sunhat, Sunscreen, and

Attempted Relaxation

Goes in water for ten minutes and

Returns to the sheet.

The sand sticks to our wet feet and we dust it off

It gets on the square of white she is laying on and she

Notices

But doesn't say a word.

 

 

Greetings at the door

Smiling and everyday love

She runs around us and

I miss her now.

She isn't

Gone, fully.

Just her body.

 

 

Waiting for something good to be and

Finally getting it.

 

intention:  okay. this poem was originally an assignment to make a list of things that had meaning to you.  i didn't really have an overall meaning, but all of the aspects meant something to me.  i ended up revising it, because i think it was too much of just a list, you know?  i thought it was just a list of words--like that fortune cookie poem.  i don't think it really had a meaning, it was just pretty lines placed together.  so, i revised it and i fleshed it out, fleshed out what those things actually mean.  i wanted the readers to relate to things like going to the beach, going to the movies, death.  i mean, these things are important to my life, right?  i just thought that people could relate to the events and things in this poem, rather than not being able to understand what i was talking about at all.  i think i wanted to get across a sense of comfort to the reader, because i picked out sad things and things that comforted me throughout my life, really.  these things are important to me.

 

process:  in this poem, i think it started out not so good.  the lines were simply a couple of words and i didn't have a main point or idea that really meant anything to me.  i left it like that for a while, because i really didn't know what to do.  then, the class looked over my poem and helped me through, kind of, so i could really revise the ideas so that the readers could understand them.  the poem was originally a class assignment, and what i thought it should be was confusing to the reader, so that they didn't quite understand what i was saying.  later, i realized that they should understand it at least a little bit.  that's what made my poem better.  in the process, i added in a stanza about going to the beach with my family.  a lot of my poems seem to be about my mom without me even realizing it.  i just write about her because she's such a big part of my life.  so i added the stanza about the beach, and i feel that it's kind of the biggest part of the poem.  i'm glad i added this in, because it shows a lot of feeling without it being blunt with the feeling, you know?  yeah.  that's pretty much it.

 

 

 

This poem is another poem that I decided to write over break:

 

Crisps of leaves 

Fall

Only fifteen minutes

More

Beside the pond

Murk, dirt, frog,

Salamander.

In the bucket, on the rock,

Escape.

 

 

Basking in the sun.

Song she sings.

                                        "Where are you?

                                                  I hadn't realized

                                        You were gone,"

Up from the sun

To the edge of the pond

Looking for the 

Shiny back,

Silver green back,

Glazed eye.

The net's handle, long,

Was fake enough.  She

Ran from the rock

                                        "Come in,"

Shake of the head,

                                        "Almost,"

She has heard, but insists.

                                        "Come in,"

 

 

Outside

The stars swarm

Shoot

Overwhelm.

 

intention:  in this poem, i just started to write.  i started to write about the highlights of my break with her and then i realized it was just her.  what we did didn't even matter--it was just her that i was trying to put across.  i mean, she's my best friend and i wanted to show what we do.  i wanted the reader to have a sense of friendship, you know?  just friendship.  like no one's in control of each other, but i just wanted to show friends in a different way than saying "oh, she's the only thing i have, she's my best friend and i love her.  yay this is a perfect friendship." because it's not a perfect friendship, right?  is there suck thing?  if there were a perfect friendship with no disagreements, it would be pretty boring.  they would run out of things to say.

 

 process:  at first, i was just writing.  then i realized that this poem was actually about me and my friends' vacation.  all i really did to this was revise a word here or there, and the intention pretty much stayed the same throughout the whole of this poem's process.  the section with dialogue was the most confusing for me to change, because it seemed like one of the speakers was somehow in control of the other.  the way that i said, "she had been told" kind of made it so that one was in control.  i knew i had to change that section, but i didn't know how.  finally, i decided to add in some repetition and resistance in the poem, because it was sending off that one person had the other in the palm of their hand and thats not how my friendship with her is.  that's probably not how any real relationship ever is.

 

 

 

Your Mama's Hand 

Blocks of paint on your

Front door waiting

Colors melting as you

Come inside 

For summer lunch and 

Grab your Mama's hand and you

Tell her you're  

Waiting to die that you 

Want to live but still

You are waiting to 

Die together

Wriggling around in your

Coffin of feather and 

When the 

Kids come to see

Who you were and 

How you lived but

No

Your tombstone is not carved

So they don't wonder

Or see

Or find

How much 

Importance you 

Had and you 

Gave 

And you 

Don't care 

Don't glance over at these 

Children.

 

intention:   for this poem i didn't really have a point in the beginning.  it was some school-night, and i felt like i had to write a poem.  i didn't really know what it meant, i just kind of went with it.  i was just thinking onto the keyboard, and this came out.  i didn't know what it meant.  now, i think i'm trying to get across someone breaking something to someone important to them and them not understanding.  even though i didn't clearly say that the mother doesn't understand their child, i think it's somehow showing through, at least to me, that the mother doesn't quite understand what their kid is saying or why they are telling them it.  it makes me think about growing up and not being understood.  it also makes me think about pre-planned things that are set in stone but you don't know even if they are going to actually happen.

process:  this poem was one that i wrote for nothing.  i had a good line in my head for the middle of a poem, and i fleshed out around it to make this poem.  it was on some night that i had nothing to do, probably a school-night, and i just started to write this poem.  i wasn't going to actually use it in school, i thought it would just be a poem for my personal collection (which hasn't actually started yet).  so all i really did was write out for this one line and it became this poem.  i actually didn't like it.  now i kind of see more meaning to it.  i revised certain words and added in the bit about the children because it's about a son talking to his mother (when the son is an adult) and the mother doesn't understand him anymore.  she misses the child side of him, because the older side seems fake and unknown to her.  it's also there because the kid inside the son is kind of disappointed but the son doesn't really care anymore.  that's pretty much what i did for this poem.  it has no stanzas because i wouldn't know where an idea fully ended and a new growth of it sprouted in the poem.  (so i wouldn't know where to break it.)