Brenda Hillman wrote a brilliant poem called"Cleave and Cleave" which examines these words that sound and can be spelled the same but have opposite meanings. I'd like you to think of two words that are homonyms but mean different things. , e.g. lie and lie, stone and stone, bear and bear, write and right. Here is a complete list.
Think of an emotional situation in memory that these homonyms might speak to, then imagine yourself "encountering" each of these words separately, in concrete examples- e.g. you are writing your name on a blackboard as a child, over and over; the sun is spilling in the window, fading the slate as you write. you start to think about your "right" to be yourself, and you look at your self, the clothes you are wearing, your hands, etc...
Then bring both words together at the poem's conclusion, like Hillman, who dramaticized the words' opposite meanings by ending with two strong sentences: You might say, e.g." I will write my name over and over on the glass." Then, "I will disappear: my right."
This poem is taken from The Practice of Poetry by Behn and Twichell.
72 comments:
i really am having trouble understanding this...
The Earthquake
By: Jose' Dempere
3/10/08
Pd.2
As if with an ax,
Earth breaks and hides my acts.
The broken dirt's effect
Will always my mind affect
Was I only two?
Well, I was suffering too.
At least love's grip tightened
Even against a fallen titan.
Although the soil was thrown
In it's place was God's Throne
For even when life is a stile
I get by with my own style.
My son, the sun
Can there be any difference
between my golden child
My baby boy
and the sun?
For each shines bright
A beacon of buttery yellow
In the sweet shine of the sky
Both spread light across the land
A shimmering halo in the day
Spreading life and rebirth across the horizon
My son, the sun
Could have been moon
As he is a lantern in the night
Leading the blind with his cresent smile
My son, the sun
Could be the brightest star
A bright oasis among millions
Twinkling as an eye might wink
Stark against the blackened sky
But my son is the sun
Not the moon or the stars
Nor a wizened tree
Or a newborn seed
He is not fresh paint on an old wicker chair.
For that is not bright enough
He is not the quiet whisper
Of the wind in the forest
For that is too quiet
He is the sun
For light burst through his skin
In golden rays
To fill the room
And the whole world with his Brilliant love
More vibrant than artifical light
More pure than a priest at his alter
Just thick strands of light
Of love
My sun, my son
Deep in the woods
A gentle, slow breeze whips the trees
In one such tree is an eagle’s nest
The wind gust ruffles the branches of this tree
And stirs the nest ever so slightly
Yet this airy waft of wind does not harm the aerie
I wandered on, feeling lost and cold with in me,
I continued to graze and the grass, and I thought about my life and the meaning within,
All I came up with were grays,
boring shades within my life,
My life lacking color and liveliness
My lonliness and how lost I am,
The lack of meaning I felt for my life and what it was,
So I grazed, grazed for a long time,
And I still graze until the grays I feel inside are released and I am filled with colors.
To See the Sea
The day shall come when I see,
The waves crashing in the sea;
I long to feel the coolness of the water,
To go out in it when the temp. gets hotter;
Landlocked in this state, I cannot see,
The beautiful sunset or sunrise over the sea;
What will it be like to see the sea?
To visit the ocean is my only plea;
I cannot wait to see the beautiful beaches;
In this place they might even grow peaches;
On days when it is cold and rainy outside,
I long for the beach, such a feeling of pride;
To actually be able to see the sea-what a wonderful sight;
I don’t know of any people who would put up a fight;
To see where the waves crash on the rocks;
The feel of the salt water in my hair locks;
The day shall come when I see the sea;
That day will definitely be remembered by me;
Whether it is tomorrow, or in the years to be,
I’ll always remember that place by the sea.
"The Lord, he is coming!" he cried out aloud,
"But only so many are gonna be aloud."
This man, he claims, is a prophet from God,
His intention, however, is a profit through God.
He stands there in snow, he stands there in rain,
And says, "There is only one who will reign."
"Come now, your life, I will forever alter,
If only you come and visit my altar."
He says please come, I am not your foe,
What he means to say is I am so faux.
A man walks up with a little bit of cash
and says, "this is all in my cache."
I'm sorry," says the man, as he sees what's due,
"There is no way at all that this will do."
"But I want to know God!" the guy moans with a groan.
"I feel that spiritually I haven't grown!
So here ends the story of the so-called prophet,
who only wanted to make a bit of a profit.
She sits by her window,
staring into the dark night,
watching,
waiting.
He has been gone for so very long.
Leaving her all on her own.
Suddenly a figure comes into sight.
A smile graces the girl's lips,
for, the figure is her night in shining armor.
He has returned.
A dark and dreary night
A flash that causes fright
A light that brings out peoples fears
but to others causes great cheers
Such a beautiful sight
Of fingers dancing in the sky at night
It is just so lightening
To see the bright flash of lightning
I know what I've done
I know what we said and did to eachother
I know I need to make this better
I'm the one who has to try and alter the situation between us.
We were meant to get along
We are family after all.
She is practically my sister.
I have to step up to the altar and try and alter our feelings for eachother.
An Actress with an Ax (Does this not just scream Lady Macbeth...?)
She paces the stage
Nervous and pale
Crippled with age
And ceaseless worry
She puts on facades
For she is quite well adept
At guessing the odds
Of her husband's guilt
She smiles and oozes
Too sweet encouragement
For often her husband looses
His killing courage
But should he fall and fail
She shall pick up an ax
While dropping her act to hail
Her victims unsuspecting
Singing murder is sweet
Sitting in his high chair,
Johnny watches his father strike the match
The family gathers about the dark iron stove, his father smiles,
“Someday son, rather than I, you’ll be lighting this Yule log.”
Johnny is confused.
Pulling himself high,
Johnny watches his father strike the match
The family gathers about the shiny fireplace, his father grins,
“Someday son, rather than I, you’ll be lighting this Yule log.”
Johnny is thrilled.
Slouching in the corner,
Johnny watches his frail father strike the match
The family gathers about the aging fireplace, his father winces,
“Someday son, rather than I, you’ll be lighting this Yule log.”
Johnny is scared.
Shoveling the snow,
Johnny’s mother stands to answer the ringing phone
The Family gathers about the mulch-ridden grave, his father is still,
“Tomorrow son, rather than I, you’ll be lighting this Yule log.”
Johnny is proud.
Standing stiffly,
They watch Johnny strike the match
The family gathers about the dark iron stove, Johnny smiles,
And lights the small, flawed log.
Johnny is silent.
Serena's sidenote- Umm yea. I was sort of in a bad mood, and no this isn't a true story. It's based on fact but not quiet accurate, slightly exaggerated.. here it goes:
My head rests on his shoulder
His arms around my waist
As much as I try
I cannot suppress my cries
I never thought I’d lose my best friend
He lifts my chin with his hand
And presses his lips against mine
For the first time in my life I’m finally safe
But I shan’t lay in his arms forever
In my hand he lays the stem of a single rose
A flower unlike any other
For within it lay a thousand words of care
Although thousands of others lay around me
In the four rows of benches
Where others cry and give me
Their best wishes and blessings are read
My baby cousin rests a lei of flowers over my head
I thank her and smile, kissing her forehead.
Hoping that she will stay so oblivious forever
Because at least she is happy and I envy her like no other
I notice liquid on my hand and see a drop of red blood
From where the thorn of the beautiful rose pricked my finger
So I let the drop fall to the soil
Where it rest forever, at the feet of my best friend
Who I had foolishly made my blood brother in previous years
By trading blood from our hands to unite us at heart
And now forever we will be
Although air no longer flows to our broken bodies.
That was the day it all ended for her
The purchase of the lead should have been a red banner
How can he say that he is innocent?
When the result of his actions are so blunt
She was rushed to the emergency room
Doctors soon predicted her doom
Her mother’s heart was broken and a tear ran down her face
Her father came to give his daughter one last embrace
That boy that led the heartless crew
The one that the lead bullet that went through
If he only knew.....
Whatever his drive
It’s no matter because he’s not alive
If he’d known of the pain he was to cause
maybe before his actions he’d take time to pause
The sea grass sways in the afternoon light
As I squish my toes through the sand
The wind whips through my hair
As I wade through the tide pools.
I have not a weight on my shoulders,
Just a spring in my step.
I want to seize the moment
Of the sun shining on my face
Not a care in the world
Just me and the son of the surf
Free as a hare that bounds in the grass.
Or the blue of a cloudless sky
But now the sun is setting
But tomorrow will dawn a new day.
On one fine day, I got my list,
And set off to go to the grocery store, I have long since missed.
Perusing from aisle to aisle,
With a wide smile.
Feeling simply overwhelmed by all the products being offered to me,
I missed an enormous puddle that I simply didn’t see.
Almost as if it were in slow motion,
I felt myself falling in one downward notion.
All the sudden, from a far away place,
I felt a presence come into this space.
A vision in tights I will never forget,
It was a superhero I was so fortunate to have met.
“I’ll save you!” he yelled as he came swooping down,
And that was the day I saw my last frown.
For he swept me from that fallen pile,
Right down to the wedding aisle.
After was said our I do’s
We left for a place were all my dreams could come true.
One this tropical isle, there is no other place I’d rather be than with you.
Got to get out of here,
To where the past will just disappear,
A place where I can start over new,
A place where the sky is always blue.
A place where the waves crash ashore,
A place where I can find something more.
A place where I can constantly hear the waves,
Something I’ve always craved.
California.
So I’ll turn the wheel and point it west,
A place for me that can only be best.
California.
I want to be far from here, in a place where I can hear the waves.
California.
You ride With a belt.
yeah its the law
but I know they all felt
you weren't driving safe at all
This ride was one we won't forget
One for the book
One you regret
A ride that shook
They yelled "hit the brake"
It was all to late
Their bones to crumble and break
Lives not your to take
Public service announcement-This is a very unusual poem for me, as it is very depressing (and long). Thank you.
Roam to Rome
One man starts walking…
Down a cobbled street
Nowhere to go, nowhere to be
Just walking, with no one to meet.
In silence he stalks
Horribly alone
Without a companion
His misery is shown
But is it misery?
Yes he walks alone,
And yes, he walks with head hung
On the outside he is old
But inside he is young
This man walks the rickety street
Searching within his soul
And through sleet and hail
He still continues his stroll
Where is he going?
Physically, anyone’s guess
But spiritually, this man makes leaps
His soul he will finesse
Walking down streets as if in a trance
But yet something is happening inside
Forming, building, sculpting a
Mistreated soul that has lost significance
Discovering, realizing, grasping
At thoughts never thought
Finding things never found
Fighting wars never fought
Then he sits by a bum’s fire
They do not speak, but understand
When the bum gets up to leave
The man offers him his hand
Sitting in the rain
Staring at the fire
His dry kinder of a soul
Now sets ablaze to its chain of wire
Set free, the man starts to run
He has finished his long roam
Down the cobblestone street,
All the way to Rome.
When the man reaches Rome, he collapses
When the people start to crowd
This man on his deathbed
States clear and loud,
“I have come from far and persevered much”
“But now see meaning to life”
“And to all of you I must say”
“You must struggle through its strife”
At the funeral of this tired old man
People gather round
And see the man who found meaning
Lowered in the ground
They all walk away, save one small child
Seeing death take such a man
He can’t understand it all
But that's life, till we all kick the can.
"Courage"
By Brian Cheney
Many a night I have lie,
Telling myself so many lies.
Telling myself to be bolder,
But it's like I'm traped under a boulder.
Where can I buy,
or will I say bye?
To the next person by my side.
Why can't i have more courage then a leek?
It's like mine escaped through a leak.
I somtimes feel like a mote
floating in a grand moat.
Am I no more than a flea?
there's always something from which to flee.
Why can't I have courage like a bee?
I guess this is how I'm ment to be.
Bolder Boulder
To climb up a cliff a person must be bold
Bolder then the boulders on the cliff
More couragous then the ledges and the towers
Bold enough to face the rocky face
Bolder then the never ending bolder of the mountain
Where we were
Where we are
All can be told by the stars
Who you are
What you wear
All that can be done is stare
Break, Brake
by kristen
Give me a break please,
just push that brake
slow down take a break
it's not that hard just
push that brake please
Corn Fields In Kansas:
An expedition,
to where an unknown road leads,
wearing emotions.
The rain pours from the sky,
And takes reign of everything around.
Time passes by
But the reign of the rain is not over.
It continues to fall
In endless fashion.
For the rain wants
To continue its reign of the sky.
I was astonished when it went by,
I knew i had to have that car.
I wanted one just like it.
It was just something I had to buy.
I went to my tutor to learn my lesson on math
I didn’t understand the concept of x
The problem was to subtract it from 5
But I still did not know what the question was asking
The teacher did not know how else to explain it
She said, “lessen it from 5”
Up in the sky
Not an unusual sight
A plain old plane
The only sound for miles
On the grass alone I lie
Surrounded only by rolling plains-
Just sinmple plain old plains
but solt as silk as I lay here.
And I enjoy every moment
staring at the sky
And watching that plane
soaring so high.
Black car driving
Black dress clinging
Black pen writing
Black bird dying
Black man driving
Black man clinging
Black man writing
Black man dying
If black I was,
As you say I be,
I could pave the road,
You could drive on me.
If black I was,
As you say I be,
The night would forget me,
You could sleep through me.
If black I was,
As you say I be,
The sun would not bother,
You could stand behind me.
If black I was,
As you say I be,
Then for every funeral,
You could call on me.
If black I was,
As you say I be,
Then maybe someday,
You could see me.
But I’m not black, you are,
Your heart at least,
I am no color,
I am no name,
I am human, I am me
We meet with a mete
I see him, he smiles, I’m there
We make eye contact
We meet with a casual hello
But there is still a mete
A boundary, a limit
Different friends
Different circles
Different cliques
Pressures to stay cool
But what really does it mean be cool?
Why should our cliques define us?
Who sets these standards?
It’s like a secret fourth grade crush
You don’t want anyone to know
I think he likes me, but how could I ever know
We meet, but there is still a mete
I dream that our mete could fade a way
It won’t matter our social standing
All that will matter is that first hello
When we will meet without a mete
Out across his fields he looked
But no one he did see
The people passing by,
They didn’t really count
His eyes were glazed over
The Baron couldn’t see
The people passing by
His mind was too caught up
There was no hope for change
He knew that time could not be reversed
Still he searched and searched
The people passing by
For one who was his son
The rich lands he lorded over
Were nothing but dry, barren fields
Without his son to gaze upon
Gone was the meaning
Gone the trivialities
Gone
The Baron of Great; melancholy
He used to be full of joy
And of the spark of life
But the plague had turned
It faced his young boy
Without caring for the pain it caused
And took the young lad’s life,
Leaving the Baron as barren as he would ever be
A seed, an orb of life to bury
Water, showers of moisture from the sky
Sun, light bursting through the clouds
Air, all around filling everything and everyone
Helping, bringing life to my tiny seed
Earth, green pushes through the soil out into the air it has longed to taste and touch
Growing, reaching towards the stars and sky and widening so that it fills all of existence
Leaves, catching the endless rays of the sun
Roots, soaking up the tears of the sky
A fruit, an orb of life for others, a berry
All I want to do is soar,
to fly above the clouds,
and not have to worry about any crowds.
And after i'm done,
I'll be begging for more,
But i'm afraid i'll be too sore.
This homonym guy is kind of weird. Did anyone else understand the "retch" joke? It's kind of gross...
Anyways...
What a wonderful work of art!
How it rings to my heart!
I want it to be mine,
but I know I am out of my mind.
How can I want such a thing?
Oh, but I think it sings!
It is strange to want this ring,
Even though it will wring the money out of my being.
That sounded really girly, but it worked. I don't know why, and I don't really want a ring, but that poem was just right, I guess...
I saw him coming toward me
Thoughts flashed through my mind
Memories flooded my eyes
Feelings swept over my heart
Words came to my mouth
But we did not speak.
All these
Thoughts
Memories
Feelings
Words
Held us back.
It used to just be us
We used to hold each other
We used to hug each other
We used to be with each other
But that was in the past
We could not speak
We could not look
Everything soon appeared
But each other we passed
And everything felt
Was just from past.
Pallette and Palate
Each color together
Each flavor combined
Together they create a masterpiece
Without one or the other
They are nothing alone
Where one color ends,
The next begins
Where one flavor is lacking,
The next takes over
Where else is it visible
The powers of many
The powers of similarity
The power of total differences
Somehow it all works
In total harmony
I have my own personal
Taste palate
Just as I have my own personal
Finger prints
I have my own personal
Color, paint pallette
Just as I have my own personal
Stripes
Each define me
Who I am
Who I aspire to be
Where I could be going
The people were roiled
They were very coonfused
Something had happened
And the cut just oozed
They looked at my head
They tried to be loyal
But they wouldn't help me
Because I wasn't royal
(This is not based on a true story.)
The Hart of my Heart
Sitting by the forest’s edge we met,
An unlikely pair of beast and child,
Breaking all boundaries that had been set,
Together we took on the world of wild.
Differences meant nothing to us,
But, pressure forced us to diverge,
I ventured to the land of perfection and fuss,
And he departed to the lost woods ever searching for a surge.
The surge he found, but not in the right way,
I watched him from my ivory tower,
Things getting worse every day,
Finally I tried to help, but he could only cower.
Slowly I observed my friend lose all hope,
Why had he been chosen to play the tragic part?
His hand slipped when I threw him a safety rope,
And then I lost the hart who stole my heart.
Broke
as the mirror broke,
i was shattered,
tiny rough fragments,
remnants of who I was.
everything is gone,
pockets are empty,
there is not even a dime,
I am broke.
the glass is on the floor,
reminding me of broken promises,
shattered dreams.
the darkness surrounds,
like the deep, hollow pit
of bankruptcy.
what I am to do?
how can I be made whole?
try to piece together the shards?
earn back the lost livelihood?
empty broke pockets.
another broke mirror.
Can I wish upon a star,
To the one I see above,
Too much is it to ask for one
One too many to ask for two?
Maybe two is just too much
But will you please just bring two more?
Ok, ok, thats two TOO many
but if not two times two
just bring one on day twenty two
Or is it on day twenty five?
One to me, and maybe others
But given one to me,
please bring one for my sister too.
confusing when i raise
i try so hard to raise them
and when i do i feel the ray
they turn to shadow
when they raze me.
i feel i have nothing left
no rays of light
hit my eyes
how is it fair i must ask
i raise them up
they raze me down
i loose the rays
i hope to raise them to the
mountains
i see their potential
i see their light
but i lose sight when they raze me
i come out of the shadows and see their rays
i realize i must raise them.
(*Note, this poem really doesn't follow any particular pattern and probably doesn't make sense but oh well, I hope you enjoy it anyway!)
The Tale
No one will know
My long lost tale
Of the young little fox
With the long silver tail
For you see there is no one
They're all gone
And now I sit alone
Writing a poem
I am no good with rhythm and no good with rhyme
But still I sit and my goodness I'll try
For this little tale
About one with a tail
Can simply go unspoken no more
Oh but everyone is gone and who will listen
As I wait and wait, I fear I may gain unnecessary weight!
But no one is coming and no has won
It is getting too hard to hear in here and so I fear
I must bid you au revoir! (goodbye in French)
The terrified young squire knelt
as he was instructed.
The King went from
young lad to young lad,
slowly lifting his sword,
then bringing it down upon them.
Every soul in the kingdom
had come to watch.
Their stares were torturing the squire.
He was out there for the world to see.
The King approached him, oh, so slowly.
The Squire bravely looked up
to face the elderly man.
The King's harsh face
told a story of war and triumph.
But, his gentle eyes told
tales of love and compassion.
The King looked into the boy's face.
I am here today, boy, to knight one of you many lads. It is imperative that i select the right squire to begin the long journey of this rite of passage. Young man, you are the only one to look at my face, and not bow at my feet.
I think it is time you join the Elite my boy.
Thin Air
It started out so easy
But suddenly it was hard.
Each foot took everything out of me
Each step felt like a yard.
I found it harder and harder to breath
As the air got thin.
I knew that I could climb that mountain
A victory I could win.
I thought of mountains that had been climbed.
Pikes Peak, Lotsha, and Everest.
Famous mountaineers who’d made history.
On this, my first mountain, I did my best.
But my muscles ached
As the air got thin.
My lungs were struggling
To pull oxygen in.
My family had climbed this very peak
Before I had been born.
Now I had my shot at the top
On this warm August morn.
My lungs wheezed
As the air got thin
My heart beat fast,
Heat burned in my shin.
It was a tall peak
Higher than heaven may be
But once I reached the top
I felt so rewared and free.
The trip became hard work
As the air got thin.
I knew I’d be back here with my heirs
And others from my kin.
Once a upon a time...
Deep in the wood
lived a young deer.
Sweet and good,
loved and held dear.
A prince, he was named.
But he wasn't too slick.
His dad was ashamed,
"This kid has to learn.. quick!"
But he made some friends,
a skunk and a hare.
They were amigos forever,
and they were always there.
But fear was always near,
in the meadow in the sun.
For every single year,
came a man with a gun.
One day the worst came to be.
They were enjoying the sun,
the gunshot made him flee.
When he got home, he was a motherless son.
It was this point in the show,
that I turned to Tom.
Yelling through my woe,
"They killed Bambi's mom!"
For then on, I hated Disney.
And the movies other kids held dear.
Traumatized at age three,
just because they killed that deer.
What is allowed
To be said aloud,
It's been a battle
Between us and them.
Between what is now,
And what was then.
The second we
become defensive,
They take it
As completly offensive.
If they sensor
What it is we want to preach,
You really can't call
That it free speech.
When we were told
To speak our minds,
What they meant was that
We should say what was assigned.
When we were told
to get our vioces heard,
What they meant was to
Speak their word.
The battle will reel on,
Until the art of speech is gone.
The battle
Between us and them.
Between what is now
And what was then.
What is allowed
To be said aloud.
Way and Weigh
How much does she weigh?
About 55.
ANd her age?
12 in June.
How is she so tiny?
The way her bones stick out
At odd angles
Is just not right
Does she eat?
Not very much.
Is she active?
Very.
Does she not see it
When she looks in the glass.
No
Her way is just to not weigh
All that much at all.
Maybe it is for
Attention,
Or may be she truly
Doesnt know
That when you are 55 pounds
and 4 foot 9
Your life is on the line.
Altar and Alter
Such a life altering event
Finding true love
How wonderful to find
A man to give my heart
Standing at the altar
I know I'll never want
A single tihng again
My man is all I need
Standing at the altar
Such a life altering event.
Oh Belle, my belle
your voice chimes like bells
giving life to me
and vibrancy like
only Bel did before
And yet, my Belle
you break the sound barrier
like a gong when you feel
like you sleep in a bel
oh I hear you my belle
dear belle, when you shriek
dogs roll over and die
so high, is your bell sound....
The Acts of my Axe
By Stephen F.
The acts of my axe are not fully told,
They are not young nor old.
For those acts could fell the heart in me,
or axe a branch of a sycamore tree.
This axe of mine is old and used,
Though never beaten or abused.
This axe is a companion on all my camping trips,
Be careful when it goes drip, drip, drip.
For the rain will rust it,
Like my heart bleeding bit by bit.
The blade has been sharpened many times,
and sings out songs in brilliant rhyme.
As my axe stays sharp,
and the rhyme cries like a harp.
So may my acts keep me on my feet,
and not ever fade or make fleet.
For my axe follows in my acts,
those stories yet untold.
The Tale of My Poor Kitty’s Tale
This is the tale,
Of my poor kitty’s tail.
When he was but one,
He ran under the sun,
But when he first met a car,
He received quite the scar.
Kitty didn’t know,
That a car was not slow.
He thought that he could outrun it,
But on the turn his tail had to submit.
It was caught under the tire,
And felt like it was on fire.
His blood-curdling howl,
Made all the neighbors scowl,
But I hope by telling the tale,
Of my poor kitty’s tail,
Cats everywhere,
Will be more aware,
Of the location of their tail,
And will not have to tell another sad tale.
This week I had to aid
my aide
to affect
the effect
of the brake
that broke
and her aunt
eating an ant
Leave and Leaves
When the summer season leaves,
One smells a crisp smell
Maybe apples, maybe sunshine.
Its the leaves.
The leaves have absorbed
All of the year's feelings
The year's smells, taste, and touch
But, alas, just like the year,
the leaves must leave,
and leave the empty void for the clean slate of winter
To wash away the leaves and leave it up to us to rewrite a new set of leaves
I bought a bone for my dog, Barry
He loved that bone
He chewed it all day long
One day he decided to bury it
Under the berry bush in the backyard
Everything’s happening so fast these days,
It's like I'm in a daze.
Spinning in circles, perfectly content,
Floating about, not sure where time went.
But not caring at all about problems ahead,
I don't want to deal so I keep floating instead.
Everything’s happening so fast these days,
It's like I'm in a daze.
The future is coming toward me, should I open my eyes,
Times going fast, I've been hypnotized.
But it's finally time to wake up and see,
That the future is coming and it's ready for me.
Everything’s happening so fast these days,
It's like I'm in a daze.
I affected the effect of the situation,
I broke a cannon,
causing others to break many canons,
I cannot see beyon my sea.
I cannont cession,
In order to prevent sucession.
I am in the Civil War.
Here it is...... it is a little confusing but I just wrote what came to my mind
A life
is filled with acts
acts that we add
to the world
hoping for them not to be in an ad
It is air that we breathe
a never e'er ending supply
ere a new generaton will come
the one to be the heir to life
they will be allowed
to live out loud.
A truth that was spoken aloud
for all to hear.
Yet I do not see it here
on this Earth that I live.
You have to be bold
in order not to be bowled
I hope someday you get to take a bow
and if not at least have fun
swinging from a bough of a tree
somedays you may need to brake
but dont let the thing break you
cuz life is not something you can buy
something you can replace, once it is gone
it just goes by and then you have to say goodbye.
Wow, I thought everyone did a really good job of writing these poems. I enjoyed writing this poem, and I can tell by reading these that everyone else did too.
Aaron, I really liked your's-there were a ton of homonyms in it!! It had a cool plot too. ^_^
Many people here are amazing poets. Now, if you don't consider yourself one, that is okay, because I don't consider myself a great poet. I'd actually rather not do poetry. You all did use amazing homonyms though. I didn't know there were so many ways to use a few different homonyms to convey such a message. I liked when people used multiple homonyms, or used the same one in different ways, or used it multiple times. It was really cool to see how people responded to the assignment with some great works of poetry.
Tylerg!, I liked your poem but I thought you could have used a better finisher.
Again, really good job everyone. I thought that this poem was a challenge, but was also very fun!!! Some people got very creative!! Great Job!!!
stefo- I think that your poems is absolutely amazing! The way that you used this was incredible and creative. Good job!
I can tell that a lot of people (including me) had trouble with this poem. But, clarao's poem really struck a chord with me. I loved the simple wocabulary, the simple setting, and the simple comparison, but really, it meant so much more: the poem teaches us how to simplify our surrounding and how we can then find peace in everyday objects. I also liked mitchl.'s poem. It was a beautiful metaphor. Sometimes we may want to soar in the air, but we'd probably get sick of it and want to walk again. A neat point of view.
Molly, your poem is outstanding. I absolutely love it!
I think this poem was definitely the most challenging one assigned. With that said, I think everyone did a great job. I know mine was less than brilliant, but some of them were amazing. Good job!
I am going to have to agree with Parkerh, we are all really good poets. This was a slightly difficult poem to write and still everyone just did an amazing job! Reading through them all I honestly could not pick one or two to comment on! They are all really good. Great job everybody.
I think we did a good job, but out of all of our poems so far, these are probably my least favorite. I don't think we were as "on-the-ball" on these ones as we were for the others. They were still moderatly good though.
"Mean Words Sound"
Homonym poetrification can dye
Sounds disguised in vice;
Presents (foiled by) shallow guise.
... Women seek a deeper wound
Mended: a spring of dead-men
With mirrored wit reflections
Of a path erected or mined.
We know what the words may mean:
Average positions or a familiar road (someone's rode),
Some hole completed by no thing but a speaker,
A just square defined (or perchance defied) by crooked lines.
Tender, yet severed from the chests' gross exploits,
An elementary principle of male dissent...
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