"Poetry has the doorway to the soul"

For my poems, I like a lots of metaphors and using other objects to relate things for how I'm feeling. So the objects in my poems aren't really the objects im talking about (except for my ode poem, my found poem, and my i was raised by oh and also what is poetry). I like to mask things because I'm not the type of person to let people know about me. I don't even have a "best friend" who is supposed to know everything about me. I just have a group of tight knit friends that I can count on. So as I said, I like to mask things and usually my poems (or lyrics, I'm more songwriter than poet) will either have a hidden meaning or a darker meaning. If your the type of person who likes puzzles and likes to get all deep and stuff then you can sit there, read my poems, and continue on with life with a puzzled look on your face.

1) This little girl was enjoying her day
In a imaginary castle
She was a princess
Cooking in plastic kitchens

OH NO! A plague with emotions was spreading
Bringing up skeletons and truths
A plague of truths
A plague that kills
A plague that haunts the un-pure

All was not well with the king and queen
The King often going out to battle, as he says
Only to play with a fair maiden, who wasn't so fair

Wasn't so fair oh no wasn't so fair as the Queen herself!
The plague brought whispers
Whispers of truth
Truths that poisoned the queen
Poisoned the heart
Which froze to a point where it shattered

Freezing everytime the king and her danced
Finally shattering, to nothing

She brought out her verbal sword
And they silently fought into the night
To defend! To defend!
To defend her kingdom
To defend her princess!

The king was defeated,
as he was cast out in exile
looking back in doubt
Not knowing little princess
Was up and watching about

3) Rift poem
Poetry is the doorway to the soul
The stairway to the heavens
The key to the lock
The escape from the torture

The very words that exit my lips
that can pierce a soul
Like the very meteors that wiped the dinosaurs
That can move you like a full moon moves a tide

The thoughts that flow from the brain
to the flowing hand that is non-stoping
The hand that can change society at its most
The very words that can move mountains

This is poetry

4) Ode to my cookbooks

I came home everyday

Searching for my lifeline

Searching the orange cover

The one for kids

My first cookbook

Orange and glossy
With cartoon Rachel Ray on the front
Thirty-minute meals

This book was awesome
Strong as a boar
Pages like steel
Cover as shiny as gel-d up wavy hair
And information as golden as gold itself

Each flipping page is a new journey
A mexican rice bowl to an american T-bone
One day I went to china
One day I went to Mexico

It was a new trip everyday

I always loved cookbooks
I buy them when I can and I have a stack

Recently my mom bought be a blue cookbook
A Cooking school cookbook

All the stress
And the irritation of someone calling my name
All was calm as I turned the pages

I took to my international adventures
Closing my eyes
Flying to Asia, America, Germany
Tasting the delicious steak with fries and pepper sauce
The stir fries
The roast chicken and butter cookies

I can hear the carmelization of the onions in the pan
Taking away the doubts in my mind
I can smell the roasted potatoes
Taking away the familiar smell of my house and to a new place

I rest in a bamboo forest
Slowly eating spring rolls
Crunching on the vegetables
Forgetting school work, home, and life

I'm on a beach
Eating a delicious tart
Basking under the wonderful sun
Listening to the ocean and smelling the beautiful sea
Mmmm, pan-seared scallops

I am flipping the page
Oh wait, I'll be back tomorrow
I need to take a shower to go to bed

Goodbye sandy beaches
Goodbye tropical islands
Goodbye bamboo forests
Cya 2morrow

5) Found poem

On the bus you hear things
Different things
Things that you will never hear at home

Yeah man, they got the cops
I told them I aint selling weed
I didnt wanna get caught

Oooh giiiirl
Just got a check from my baby daddy
Gonna get them diapers
Girl what diapers do you get?

Mmm, girl I was about to F*ck this b*tch up
Tell me how she gonna call me a ho and call my weave ratchet
Ima fight this b*tch

You never know
what you will hear on
your way to school

6) I was raised by...

A Puerto Rican
A hard working
Short tempered
Coconut loving puerto rican

A sandal grabbing
Mouth popping
Loud screaming puerto rican

A no-nonsense
Hot headed
Emotional puerto rican

A patelio making
Rice tasting
Goya loving puerto rican

Warm hearted loving
Still no nonsense puerto rican

A "im always in your corner"
A "you better go to college"
A "Clean up your room"
Puerto Rican

I may not know too much about my history
Or the black side of my family
But I will never forget
That I was raised by a puerto rican

7) Art work

8) Audio recording

9) A poem of my choosing


The wind sways
Rain falls
Nature is in its course

It's another beautiful spring
Strong trees and branches
Shrug their leaves and compete
To see who is more useful, more attractive

The cherry blossoms hang on the trees sides
Never letting go, this was typical they're thirsty
Thirsty for the water that the trees relish themselves in
The cherry blossoms were popular
Everyone loved them

The black eyed Susans always kept to their pack
Letting the raindrops reflect their beauty
Bouncing their petals to the pounding of the rain

The peppers and tomatoes fought for space
But were as cool as cucumbers
Secretly praying that one will shine
And end up on the dinner table

The gardner always came
He checked on everything
Pruning and making sure everything is ok
His visits were rare

The weeds always hid in corners
Yet hid in plain sight
Doing lots of damage
They were rarely caught

What a blind gardener

In a small dark patch
There are closed roses
Yet to blossom
Yet to catch the water
in their soft absorbent petals

Yet, these are the most beautiful flowers
Holding secrets wrapped tightly in their petals
secluded from the wonderful garden
If only they could spread their petals and be great

Gary Snyder independent study:

Gary Snyder is a zen type of person. And I think his calmness shows in his poems. Like his poem “How poetry comes to me” this is how it goes:

It comes blundering over the
Boulders at night, it stays
Frightened outside the
Range of my campfire
I go to meet it at the
Edge of the light

When he writes short poems he is more sweet to the point than when he writes long poems. And when he writes long poems they’re usually about a situation or just a moment or realization in life. He learned Asian languages and was very interested in chinese and japanese culture yet, in the poems I chose he wrote about something totally different. Like for instance, his “Hay for the horses” , here is an excerpt.

"I'm sixty-eight" he said,
"I first bucked hay when I was seventeen.
I thought, that day I started,
I sure would hate to do this all my life.
And dammit, that's just what
I've gone and done."

This could have been one of his moments in life, or it could of had the topic of another main idea of not wasting life. Gary Snyder works in a mysterious way, so I never know if what he is writing is real or if there is a moral behind the poem. When I read his poems, I think of an elderly man reading this and thinking of a back in the day moment, I imagien him to be a wise man also. Because the older you are the wiser you get. Here is an excerpt from “a walk”


Take a walk

To Benson Lake. Packed a lunch,

Goodbye. Hopping on creekbed boulders

Up the rock throat three miles

Puite Creek –

In steep gorge glacier-slick rattlesnake country

Jump, land by a pool, trout skitter,

The clear sky. Deer tracks.

Bad place by a falls, boulders big as houses,

Lunch tied to belt,

I stemmed up a crack and almost fell

But rolled out safe on a ledge”

Gary Snyder is a very observant person as you can see in his poems. Listing what he sees and does to the very last detail. That’s what I like about his poems, he just captures life in the words that he writes and preserves them for the world to see.