Introduction:
In this unit of our English class, Mr. Block introduced us to several types and forms of poems by several interesting and different authors. We were instructed to write one for each kind and then create an original poem of our choosing. We were encouraged to make these poems our own by using strong descriptive language and playing around with punctuation and our own unique styles of writing. After writing out poems, we researched a poet of our choosing and analyzed their poetry to create a statement about their style of writing. Throughout my poetry I try to make them seem appealing, but meaningful at the same time. To me a poem doesn’t have to be obvious to be meaningful. Your poem must leave something up for the reader to interpret and come to their own conclusions about. It should be relatable to in some ways. This makes it more enjoyable for the reader to read. In some of my poems, I create full sentences using a few lines. None of the poems rhyme. I believe that poems have power behind them when you use word play and set up a situation with stronger vocabulary. I hope you enjoy the poetry that I have been working on for the past few weeks.

"Poetry is emotion put into measure. The emotion must come by nature, but the measure can be acquired by art."

- Thomas Hardy


Memory Poem: A Silver Canoe
North Carolina, my cousin's house.
A vast, azure lake and waves that lapped the shore.
Clay sand the color of dried blood.
And a silver canoe that shone in the sun.

Out on the water we splashed and froliced
in the heat that summer afternoon.
I was out numbered three to one.
Afloat in the waves
was a silver canoe that shone in the sun.

We cut through the water and sat
for hours it seemed at a time.
Rocking back and forth and back and forth.
Over went a silver canoe that shone in the sun.

"Ahhhhh", we all screamed
as we were heaved in the blue.
The water was chilled compared to
the golden rays that lie above it's surface.
On top of my head
was a silver canoe that shone in the sun.

I breathed in some air
in the pocket between the seats.
The water shimmered as I sputtered.
Where were the other three?
Down went a silver canoe that shone in the sun.

Panic is what I did.
I flailed my arms and legs
searching for a way out.
Gulping water, losing air.
Trapped under a silver canoe that shone in the sun.

My heart rate picked up and then slowed.
My chest became tight.
My feet hit the sand and I felt them sink.
Under the water in a silver canoe that shone in the sun.

Riff Poem: "I see my beauty in you"Every time I look at you,I see my beauty in you.You are the heart that thumps in my chest,As it tries to escape the cage it is in.
Every time I look at you,I am invincible, wonderful.I can do anything, be anything,Even fly if I wanted to.I am the best like no one ever was.
Every time I look at you,I feel better than I ever have before.I'm happy, loved, at peace.It's almost like my depression has disappeared forever.
Every time I look at you,I am able to say I am perfect.I am confident, courageous, and strong.
Every time I look at you,I thank God that you're here,Because without you I can not be,And I will no longer see my beauty in you.

Ode: Ode to My Backpack
To my fellow companion, my one that never leaves my side.
You and I have been through everyday, clinging to one another,
Always watching each other’s back, making sure the opposite was safe.
We started out together not to long ago, and eventually you became my own.
I made your personality match mine, welcoming you into my life.

You quickly aided me through the grind,
Assisting me by taking some of the weight off of my hands,
And onto my shoulders.
Taking a tremendous toll on my posture, but it didn’t matter.
The good far outweighed the bad, because you were my companion.

We’ve been together through hailstorms of carry-ons,
Floods of paperwork coming my way, yet you remained my foundation.
Never a time where you’d falter, never a time where you’d stray.
Your supports, they always remained balanced.
I always trusted you with handling expenses because you’d never fail.

So as we sit here together like we have every day,
There isn’t a doubt in my mind that you’ll always be mine,
In appearance and in trust. Never once thinking of disappointing me.
To you I have my thanks, and this time I repay you,
My fellow companion, my one that never leaves my side.

Found Poem: RecoveryI know what love is, and many people die not knowing.That kind of scares me.This thing called recovery is tough.Anyone need to vent?I was convinced I couldn’t eat today.God, I’m having the worst withdraws.I remembered why I’m fighting.This promise is going to be the hardest thing for me to keep.I just realised something…I know no one is perfect so today was good enough for me.

Raised by Poem: Raised by Italians
I was raised by crazy people,
Loud screaming matches,
Name calling, arguing.
Trying to sleep but overhearing everything.

I was raised by a big family,
That spawns like fish.
Two parents make
One child, two children, three children,
Then four.
Family trees with a million different branches,
Gnarled and ugly.

I was raised by food lovers.
The "Don't eat that, that's for Thursday!"
Type of people.
They'll feed you when you're not hungry,
And force their hospitality upon you.
Visit the grandparents every Sunday
To enjoy a never ending buffet of pasta.
"It's gravy not sauce."

I was raised by Catholics.
Wrestling matches every Sunday morning.
Church starts at 9:00,
And not one mass was missed.
Enduring CCD for 5 years
To mold myself into the
"Good little girl" that they wanted me to be.

But most of all, I was raised with love.
The kind of love that doesn't go away.
No amount of arguing and pain,
Makes this love dissolve.
I was taught to keep moving forward.

Artwork: "I see my beauty in you."


My Own Poem: The StruggleThe Darkness creeps inWhen you least expect it toMy soul dissolves, dead
Lying on the floorWondering if I’ll ever,Be the same again
When did this happen?Why did this happen to me?I’m trapped here, cold
Desperate for lifeNothing works except to hurtMyself with a blade
It’s been eighty-oneDays since the blade has left it’sMark on my pale skin
I’m working towardsBeing happy, being freeFrom the evil
Thoughts slowly fadingEyes slowly clearing the hazeI can be happy

Detailed Poet Study: Sylvia Plath

imgres-1.jpeg
Sylvia Plath was born on October 27, 1932. Throughout her life she struggled with depression and attempted suicides. On February 11, 1963 she succeeded by sticking her head in an oven with the gas turned on. You can see the way Plath’s mental state was reflected through her writing. Through this she has not only opened up a door to reveal the type of person she is, but one that reveals a whole new world that a lot of people are ignorant to.

In her poem “Cinderella”, Plath describes a scene much like one from the children’s fairy tale. The character in the poem is with the prince while music plays and couples dance around them. Everything seems perfect for a split second. “The prince leans to the girl in scarlet heels,/Her green eyes slant, hair flaring in a fan/Of silver.../Rose candles flicker on the lilac wall/Reflecting in a million flagons' shine,/And glided couples all in whirling trance...” This description sets up this perfect scenario in a lot of girl’s minds. This symbolizes our hopes, desires, dreams. Towards the end Plath writes, “Until near twelve the strange girl all at once/Guilt-stricken halts, pales, clings to the prince/As amid the hectic music and cocktail talk/ She hears the caustic ticking of the clock.” This ending was not written to tell the story of Cinderella but to explain that everything comes with a price and at any moment our wildest fantasies can come to an end. This also shows the fear of people finding out who she really is under her appearance.

In another one of Plath’s poems, “April 18”, she writes “the slime of all my yesterdays/rots in the hollow of my skull.” This explains about how all of her mistakes from her past are stored at the back of her mind. By using the word “rot” Plath implies that these thoughts and memories constantly replay, slowly and painfully. They don’t seem to be going anywhere anytime soon. In this poem she speaks of death and a loss. “a future was lost yesterday/as easily and irretrievably/as a tennis ball at twilight.” April 18 could be a very significant date. Plath could have lost someone very close to her. However, it has been know that she has had many suicide attempts. The character in this poem could be herself. The poem might foreshadow her attempt, or explain a time in her life that contributed to the person she turned into.


imgres.jpeg
















Sources:"Poems by Sylvia Plath." International.org. N.p., 16 Jan 2012. Web. 21 Mar 2013. <http://www.internal.org/Sylvia_Plath>.
"Sylvia Plath." Bio. true story. N.p., n.d. Web. 21 Mar 2013. <http://www.biography.com/people/sylvia-plath-9442550>.