Thanksgiving feel

Luke throws his broccoli at James,

 hitting him in the face, causing James to fall out of his chair laughing.

Sniped!

The aroma of pies baking in the oven

The long wooden table holds all the wonderful food.

The turkey is not dry this year; it’s finally cooked just right!

The marvelous cranberry sauce, handmade by Grandma Kathy looks like red applesauce.

Saying grace before eating, is something we do every time we eat.

After eating,

“I feel like the turkey, all stuffed up and stuff”

my cousin Brandon exclaims,

puffing his stomach out as if he’s pregnant.

As we are waiting for the pie,

My little cousin Teagan is more excited than anyone to see snow falling

“I’m a snow angel, falling from the sky.”

The blueberry pie is succulent with the juices exploding in your mouth.

A kooky family member who has had a bit too much to drink,

hollers “I’m flying like the turkey before he was shot”

Flapping his “wings” until he drops on the couch and passes out.

This was the first thanksgiving for newly born baby Kylie.

This year we propose a toast to the well being of everyone present.

"Shadow" poem but not really

Watching from the outside looking in

Stepping out of the black 2004 Ford Explorer

I walk closely behind what seems like an under privileged person as we enter Target.

I can’t help but notice that he isn’t dressed for the chilly weather.

I take notice that they are shivering, and shaking.

As I enter the store, we head our separate ways.

But as I near register number twelve, we seem to have met again.

He is still shivering, as he is buying some toys, he explains to the cashier that these are his Christmas gifts for his 3 beautiful children.

But as soon as the cashier says how much the toys are, his eyes grow wide in astonishment.

He realizes that he doesn’t have enough money to buy a toy of some sort for each child.

But before he grabs all of the items to put them back,

 I reach over and hand him one hundred and fifteen dollars and eighty four cents.

This amount of money covers all of his children’s Christmas presents without him having to pay a dime.

As this event is happening, I can’t imagine what it would be like to have no presents on Christmas.

Or not being able to see his children smile with the gifts that their daddy got them this year.

The man is more than thankful for my good deed, he thanks me numerous times.

And all I can say is: This will put a smile on your kid’s faces, Merry Christmas.

This brings me nothing but joy, happiness, and the gift of giving.

 I can’t think of anything better I could have spent $115.84 on than putting a

great, big smile on three kid’s faces on Christmas day.

Nothing better than a Christmas miracle

i'm doing a chapbook

I will be taking the original chapbook approach. I currently have 13 poems, so i will have to revise, and practice them so i can be prepared for the final presentation. I also have to write two or more poems to meet the requirements.

Shy Guts

Shy guts

As I stand here watching, I can’t help but look.

But as I gaze upon your beautiful face, I realize that this idea is a closed book.

Damn, are you kidding? She’s gorgeous!

Her face looks like it was carved by angels.

As soon as a muster the courage to ask her to dance, I second guess my decision.

Maybe she’ll turn me down.

Maybe she thinks I’m not cute.

Maybe she’s leaving.

But my conscience speaks up.

Hey, you,

 Come on, you got this.

I decide to have no regrets in that moment,

My Midwest charm is turned all the way on.

“May I have this dance?”

“Why of course” she answers, “I would love to!”

I lead her to the dance floor as I grasp her hand in mine

As we sway to the beat of the song that’s playing,

She lays down her head on my skinny broad shoulders.

But after that last song, it’s time for both of us to go.

This one night I will never forget, a kiss on the cheek after I saw her one last time,

Until she disappeared that night.

That was a sign I have seen one too many times,

The realization that I would not see her for a while killed me inside once again.

Maybe I’ll never see her again.

Getting wordy with it

A drazel is getting  pretzel

Because the baguette was too French for her tastes

The Illuminati symbol turns into a Boomerang, zooming by

 a bumblebee, humblebee, bumblebee is flying around an awesome blossom,

This is quite a threat if you are of adolesence.

A possum strolls by, and begins to climb a branch.

A festuceous excellence was shown by the possum’s ability to play dead.

The essence of the smell was like a kench had been sitting in the phosphorescence,

 as an apology was given by the odorous possum

Psychology, anthropology books were gotten after the song

I woke up in a new bugatti was played,

After that the art of Fastidiousness was all gone.   

Leaves ever changing

Look,

Your eyes are glued

To the outside of your

window, the leaves are falling.

Left, Left, Left, Right, Left, Up, Down, All around,

Red, Orange, Yellow, Green, Purple,

Each singular leaf’s path may not be foreseen.

Floating, Fluttering, Flipping, Flopping, onto the ground.

Along comes the rake, sweeping the leaf onward.

After it is swept onto and into the pile, you may not see it for a while.

Roll, Spin, Flip, Glide, many leaves are brought from Eurus, bringing a

Clumsy, Crazy, Curvy Boreas gust even closer to the frozen tundra

that we call Minnesota, or the place where hell froze over Hades

 Only time will tell us if the breeze will guide the leaves on a path, that may not be disturbed, or if the

gods of wind control their path so that they may bring happiness to all

who come upon the path of a leaf, Floating, Fluttering, Flipping, Flopping.

 Whirly, Light, filthy, clean as a whistle, weak, wet, dried, and dirty.

Puny, large, small, Humungous, Obscene

Each singular leaf’s path has been foreseen.

Left, Left, Left, Right, Left, Up, Down, All around,

Every leaf still has a little green,

and each with its own unique sheen.

Our eyes begin to fade, as we

Begin to blink, and notice that our eyes

Are no longer fixated on the window glass panes,

That is when we venture outside of our safe, warm, homes.

We take the gamble,

whip the poker face out to hide our fear

of Mother Nature’s gravitating force.

The leaves are falling, down, down, down.

Ringing around Rosie, falling down again.

Our vision starts to fade, as we become

enclosed from head to toe in leaves.

Breathing Heavily, emerged I am.

Engulfing Maternal Love

Barricaded in a window
glass shaded blue,
engulfs you
into the bleach white headscarf

Souls of Argentinean males
float above the outstretched hand
of maternal love.

Beneath the lone, bright, headscarf
a dull shadow of flags, flames
and once loving dames,
suddenly turns to Hades rage

No, reincarnation to the same
body is not possible.
Many lives have been lost,
Maternal love will not disappear
until … JUSTICE is near

Louis Jenkins preparation

Louis Jenkins's poems look like prose, on his website he even admits that his poems are prose. He doesn't capitalize the beginning of each line. Jenkins's poems aren't all about nature and transcendentalism like many poets, instead he talks more about football, CDs,cars, and fish. These manly objects of everyday life allow Jenkins to engage his thoughts to many people. I also noticed in some of the audio recordings of his poems, that he is quite funny, and it seems like he thinks of some of these lines in his poems like he's a stand-up comedian. I really liked the poems "Football" and "Fish Out of water" because they're pretty funny, and because they change topics like Jenkins' is telling us a story. I really liked how Jenkins' mainly talks about common manly topics, fishing, cars and football, and dress shoes. These poems are about everyday things that every man can connect to easily. In the poem "Football" I espescially liked the lines "I take the snap from the center, fake to the right, fade back.../I've got protection. I've got a receiver open downfield.../What the hell is this? This isn't a football, it's a shoe,/ a man's brown leather oxford." I enjoyed this line because i used to play quarterback and it reminded me of my football days, and it also reminded me of my dad. I can definitely see my dad saying "What the hell is this? This isn't a football, it's a shoe, a man's / brown leather oxford." Overall this poem jumps around from topic to topic, from eating pancakes, playing football, dress shoes, corn syrup vs maple syrup etc. I also noticed that in many of his poems, he has a real life experience, or moral in each one of his stories and this line conveys that statment perfectly "One has certain responsibilities, / one has to make choices. This isn't right and I'm not / going to throw it." In the poem "Fish Out of water" my interpretation was it's hard to recognize a good thing before it's gone. I feel as if the fish wasn't really the focus of the story... maybe some sort of a prop representing the moral of the story. This poem seems to be about regret. Having swam so far upstream only to be pulled back downstream. It tells a story of distractions from what's really the most important. How a large thing (a problem, for example) can get in the way of the things which should be paid more attention to like his wife, his children and how he screwed up his relationship with them but he never disrupted his relationship with the fish.

We are Kin Poetry Journal

Kin Poetry Journal is a very modern site where many types of poetry are shown, with many different ways of viewing the poetry. Audio, articles and videos are shown on this site, as well as social media options. After clicked on many of the New Poem options i noticed that all of the poets who submitted a poem had their own personal style, rhythm and tone. I also noticed the poet's lifelong work in poetry is given beneath the poem which is a nice touch to an already modernized website

The two poems I especially liked were No Shield of Achilles, and Gently Still Finding You were poems that i just generally liked, as well as having interesting structures and great details throughout the poems.

   

"No Shield of Achilles" by Rimas Uzgiris (great name by the way) begins describing a moment where the power is out, and darkness is seeping into the once blue sky. The line "The stories are gone. There is no consolation." explains a line later in the poem "the half-blind, old, decrepit, the half-ghost husk

of our civilization. Absence encroaches" these lines portray the meaning of the absence of stories and that the stories are beginning to narrow because of the modern way of telling stories. But the title is contradicting to the poem, as it doesn't say anything about Achilles, but it does convey darkness as in the way Achilles died.

Siham Karami's poem "Gently Still Finding You" has the greatest descriptions i think i've ever seen, Karami helps you visualize the situations occurring  that he describes. The most vivid descriptions are in the lines "like sepals undernoticed, or a potted/cactus near the window no one looks through" and "hidden ventricles,/auricles collapsed and yet alive,/imaginary origami hearts" The origami hearts line is very distinct because of how he explains the ventricles and auricles as if he were looking inside the person he's writing about's heart.

Anyways, i thought this was a great website with great poetry and great styles and rhythms that i hope to obtain throughout this semester

Response to Joyce Sutphen

9/17/13

Response to Joyce Sutphen’s Poems

In response to the Joyce Sutphen’s poems I read, she writes many of  her poems about how living on the farm shaped her. In the poem “Breakfast” her father taught her how to eat breakfast “My father taught me how to eat breakfast those mornings when it was my turn to milk the  cows…Didn’t  talk much… that’s how we started up the day” (The Writer's Almanac: Joyce Sutphen). I’d like to think that because she grew up on a farm that she writes about the memories of her father not saying much besides how good the strawberries were. She continues to write about the farm in her poem “Apple Season”: “The kitchen is sweet with the smell of apples… My mother and my grandmother are running the apple brigade” (The Writer's Almanac: Joyce Sutphen).  I like how she talks about the smell of apples in the air when her mother and her grandmother are making pies, apple crisps, and etc… I really like the way she writes about her mom and her grandmother running the apple brigade as if they’re on a mission to create the best apple pies ever. The poem’s Joyce writes are easy to relate to because almost everyone has experienced the smell of apples filling the room. Joyce Sutphen really re-iterates the feeling of happiness in her poem “Happiness”: “Pure happiness, simple as strawberries and cream in a saucer” (The Writer's Almanac: Joyce Sutphen). She comes back to her childhood happiness at the farm where she had a strawberry farm. To conclude Joyce Sutphen must have a broad audience range because her poems welcome everyone.

In God's son we trust

In god’s son we trust

Thank you for preserving a life today.

A woman speeds through a red light…Texting

Her life could've been over in a millisecond

What was she thinking?

How long are you willing to wait for the light to turn green?

How much is it worth, your whole life?

Are you willing to wait, wait and don’t mind waiting?

How much is it worth, for you to go through the red light?

In any other situation she could have been one of those victims on those AT+T commercials.

MEA college Visiting: List poem

College Visiting

Fall Tommie days:

I’m just visiting for the afternoon.

I live pretty close to here.

Look around at all these Victorian homes

Do you live in one of those Victorian homes?

Oh you’re from Milwaukee?

This is a very safe neighborhood.

The food is great here, they have ice cream and candy and all sorts of great stuff

The Burger bar on Thursdays is where it’s at

Would you like to give the tour from here on out? I didn’t think so.

Focus on the tour, not the lovely tour guide.

I’m not that wealthy.

You’re doing a wonderful job, oh thank you!

Concordia St. Paul:

Any more questions?

Awesome.

Everything is card activated here,

No outside people can get into campus except for you guys of course…

We have a bunch of little café’s located all around campus.

Descending from the treetops

Red, orange, yellow, and green;

Leaves on a crisp fall afternoon float to the soil floor.

Descending from maple trees, seed pods are a common autumn feature.

The zephyr propels the pods to spin like helicopter blades,

hauling the little copter’s farther and farther away with each gust of wind.

Small children grasp the seeds in their little hands and with a heave ho!

The pods leave, without saying goodbye.

 But the children know that the seeds are off to another adventure to find

the next rest stop from leaflet maps from a pod navigating system.

That is until they are blown away to brighten up someone else’s day.

Chris Martin Blog Post thing

Chris Martin has his own unique style, the only poet that is somewhat similar to him is e.e. Cummings because of the way Martin formats his poems. In "The Science Fiction of Color" and "Recommence Everything" both include the image of the sun multiple times in the vast number of stanza's. In "Recommence Everything "Above our heads, today’s weather...Report calls for abundant...Sunshine as a man with a limp" and "Recommence everything just...Moments after it’s begun, the sun...Shines abundantly down". And "The Science Fiction of Color" says "The conductor howls, the dreaded Man sings Ain’t no Sunshine as the sunshine". I find this as some sort of metaphor for the sun bringing him joy even though it doesn't stay  out for too long, it still shows that it brightens up his day when it seems as if he should start everything over.  I also spy the common theme of time  is of the essence in the  Poem "Time" and  the poem "The Bubble" where Martin states the the sun is in one space, not moving, maybe as if time has stopped or time is not important to the person in the poem. I can't wait to see how he reads his own poems so that we can see what he thinks about why he writes stuff like this.

Poem Of The Day 10/9/13

If you can keep your head when all about you   

    Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,   

If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,

    But make allowance for their doubting too;   

If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,

    Or being lied about, don’t deal in lies,

Or being hated, don’t give way to hating,

    And yet don’t look too good, nor talk too wise:

If you can dream—and not make dreams your master;   

    If you can think—and not make thoughts your aim;   

If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster

    And treat those two impostors just the same;   

If you can bear to hear the truth you’ve spoken

    Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,

Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,

    And stoop and build ’em up with worn-out tools:

If you can make one heap of all your winnings

    And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,

And lose, and start again at your beginnings

    And never breathe a word about your loss;

If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew

    To serve your turn long after they are gone,   

And so hold on when there is nothing in you

    Except the Will which says to them: ‘Hold on!’

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,   

    Or walk with Kings—nor lose the common touch,

If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,

    If all men count with you, but none too much;

If you can fill the unforgiving minute

    With sixty seconds’ worth of distance run,   

Yours is the Earth and everything that’s in it,   

    And—which is more—you’ll be a Man, my son!

I chose this as the poem of the day because it's what my day always says to me, stay humble, stay proud, have ambitions, use your common sense, never give up, don't let other's opinions of you affect who you are. I also like it because it has it has a style as if it were being said during an inspirational speech.

Home is where the heart is draft

Home is where the heart is

Looking out my window gazing

At the freshly cut lawn and the toys sprawled across the city lawn

A blue bike with flames on the sides flipped upside down at

My brother’s automobile shop, where many toy cars are waiting in line,

Sitting with content the other brother’s look on with a divine

Look upon their faces.

As I go on a walk, I begin

Around the block, a park with kids who seem to never Stop playing,

The church where people keep praying

Like it’s no tomorrow,

A small grocery store on the corner where with a ding ding  you enter the door,

The cashiers know your name

It isn’t so lame

My city is my city,

This city is where my home is for the majority of my life,

Because your home is where your heart is,

Without your home, your heart fades

Imagine…

Imagine all the witnesses of your life.

All the people who have seen you,

Judging you with each glance,

Good or bad views of you,

What their perception of you is.

What they think you do,

Who they think you are,

Who sees you working hard,

Or hardly working,

The color of your hair, brown, blonde, orange, black.

 The shape of your body, skinny, average, large, chubby.

Your race, white, yellow, brown, African American

The language you speak.

Everything matters to the person witnessing

We are all witnesses

The poem was revised because of the useful 2 chapters we read that had ideas for helping me revise my poem. I used the syntax and grammar section to improve this poem by choosing different words to end the line breaks. I also used the Energy of revision chapter, by using tips on page 189 by taking a look at my poem and re-arranging my poem. 

Imagine…your witnesses

Imagine all the witnesses of your life

All the people who have seen you,

What their perception of you is,

What they think you do,

Who sees you working hard,

Who sees you slacking,

Judging you with each glance,

Good or bad views of you,

Your hair, your body , the language you speak,

Everything matters when you’re witnessing something or someone

We are all witnesses 

Prose and Poetry from The Poet’s Companion

Bedroom

As you enter my room you will notice it is painted white all around

A poster covers the majority of a wall, on it is  a metal fence, a basketball hoop,

a partly cloudy sky with the sun peaking out in the middle of the photo,

a basketball player with high tops  dunking with his left hand outstretched in

 the Michael Jordan pose.

Beneath the poster is a wooden desk made from an ash tree that my great grandfather gave me before he passed away

On the wooden desk are mementos from my 2005 youth baseball championship trophy. Lying in front of the trophy are pictures of my mom and I

On the pictures,  my mom and I  are blowing out  the candles on my Thomas the tank engine cake, on my 2^nd birthday at Minnehaha falls park, and we’re sticking our tongues out at each other on the Hawaiian floral printed futon we used to have.

A simple lamp shade colored a burnt orange color sits on the edge of the desk

To the right of my desk against the wall I have a two door closet with white paint and two metal handles, which is where my multiple jerseys and nice clothes are hanging.

If you make a 90 degree turn from the closet a twin bed with orange sheets and pillow cases is sitting against the wall next to the nightstand

On the nightstand are autographs from various athletes that I’ve received over the years,

A Justin Morneau autographed picture of him finishing his homerun,

 And Joe Mauer telling me to never give up on my dreams

 To tell time, there rests a Mickey Mouse clock undisturbed,  that I received as a birthday present when I was 7.

At the foot of my bed is my dirty clothes hamper with nothing in it at the moment.

Then to the right of the hamper is my dresser which has two wide drawers on the bottom,

 two small but deep drawers,

and two small but wide drawers in-between the two small drawers.

And that is how I perceive my room.

The blue and green striped blankie:

My little brother has had this blanket since he was born,

And from it he has never been torn,

It calms him down,

It turns his frown upside down.

Gripping it tight,

It never leaves his sight.

Without blankie,

Owen would be cranky.

And that quite frankly,

Would make many unhappy.

Prose and Poetry from The Poet’s Companion

Summer Project

Bedroom

As you enter my room you will notice it is painted white all around

A poster covers the majority of a wall, on it is  a metal fence, a basketball hoop,

a partly cloudy sky with the sun peaking out in the middle of the photo,

a basketball player with high tops  dunking with his left hand outstretched in

 the Michael Jordan pose.

Beneath the poster is a wooden desk made from an ash tree that my great grandfather gave me before he passed away

On the wooden desk are mementos from my 2005 youth baseball championship trophy. Lying in front of the trophy are pictures of my mom and I

On the pictures,  my mom and I  are blowing out  the candles on my Thomas the tank engine cake, on my 2^nd birthday at Minnehaha falls park, and we’re sticking our tongues out at each other on the Hawaiian floral printed futon we used to have.

A simple lamp shade colored a burnt orange color sits on the edge of the desk

To the right of my desk against the wall I have a two door closet with white paint and two metal handles, which is where my multiple jerseys and nice clothes are hanging.

If you make a 90 degree turn from the closet a twin bed with orange sheets and pillow cases is sitting against the wall next to the nightstand

On the nightstand are autographs from various athletes that I’ve received over the years,

A Justin Morneau autographed picture of him finishing his homerun,

 And Joe Mauer telling me to never give up on my dreams

 To tell time, there rests a Mickey Mouse clock undisturbed,  that I received as a birthday present when I was 7.

At the foot of my bed is my dirty clothes hamper with nothing in it at the moment.

Then to the right of the hamper is my dresser which has two wide drawers on the bottom,

 two small but deep drawers,

and two small but wide drawers in-between the two small drawers.

And that is how I perceive my room.

Calm

My little brother has had this blanket since he was born,

And from it he has never been torn,

It calms him down,

It turns his frown upside down.

Gripping it tight,

It never leaves his sight.

Without blankie,

Owen would be cranky.

And that quite frankly,

Would make me unhappy.

Car Poem rough draft..

Mr. Car

a Stealth Prowler approaches the Ninety-Eight Explorer,

his Amigo Cooper has a thick Navajo Accent.

they Swift(ly) Sprint across the cross roads of Park Avenue,

and Fifth Avenue.

the Breeze was towards the west, as the Zephyr was blowing like Aries when he’s mad.

Shortly after a Golf ball came towards Cooper en Fuego.

Lucy Li

A bright young woman, with a great big smile,

She’ll tell you what you need to know every once in a while.

During the summer,

She doesn’t have a single bummer,

Painting elegant paintings,

And having quite the time entertaining

while she is competing for many judges

In various piano performances.

 

While tutoring in the summer

She didn’t get any dumber.

She kept her criminal record quite clean,

Except for stealing a bit of ice cream.

For community service she volunteered,

at the local nursing home where the jury feared

she would strike again,

as she was sent to math and science camp to be a counselor where she was forced to use her brain.