So -

I was wondering if anyone has been working on any poetry this summer... especially since we all have all this wonderful time to do anything. ;) Here's one for kicks and giggles:

Where have you been?!?

I'll tell you-

The large bell hanging on the wall at school

clinged its joyful news

signifying the end of torture.

I stood up triumphantly and exited the room,

victory of surviving another day of that dreaded algebra.

If I would have hesitated for one more sec,

I would have been squashed by the giant meteor impact

of a 3hr old ABC gum that was carefully aimed

to hit my head and my heart.

Luckily, the fates were on my side

as my feet moved forward all on their own,

bringing the rest of me to safely just in the lick of time

and out of death's way.

Feeling the rushing wind of the deadly ABC gum fly past my face,

I turned to face my enemy.

Josh.

A tall, gangling thing that looks like a spider.

This is was my peers

all seem to think is a gorgeous man,

followed by girls who are willing to wait on him hand and foot.

Smirking,

he raised an eyebrow and curled his bright pink lips

revealing perfectly straight teeth that shine like diamonds in the sun.

Definitely the enemy.

Definitely need to be taught a lesson:

to never cross me.

The fates agreed.

After he left the classroom, I followed behind

my elven shoes hiding my footprints

and the sound of my feet slinking across the floor.

The sun reached 30 degrees, signifying the monumental time.

He was strolling along the road,

without any sign of his earlier disaster,

his deadly mistake.

As I watched from behind the metal green box

that smelled strangely of dead fish and cat puke,

a plan was unfolded in my mind,

detailed laid out the perfect solution to all my problems.

Quickly I reached deep into my sock,

slipping my fingers into the hidden pocket full of odd and ends.

Out came a leaky pen who has been known for his cruel smiles

and his inky fingers, jetting out black ink

staining his mark permanently on all creatures and things,

black because his name was Diablo.

Placing Mr. Diable into my trusty rubber sling, I flexed my biceps.

A smile on my face glowed in the bask of the heated air

and shinning from the drops of sweat on my face.

Bang!

The black stains from Diablo burst all over Josh,

giving him a black spot so big that it can be seen

from international space station that rotates slowly around the earth.

Little did i know, Diablo backstabbed me right back,

by leaving a mark on my once innocent looking hands.

Dashes and Tildes

So, here are some Wikipedia articles dealing with dashes, 'swung dashes' and tildes:

Dash
Tilde

Zachary = Poem #9

Family Photos

There are family photos from every year

with smiling faces decorating the walls

changing slowing as seasons pass.

Baby pictures that are always “cute”

despite the spagetti sauce on their face

and ugly clothes that they used to year.

Vacation pictures in decorated frames

lined with postcards or sea shells

filled with silly children faces.

Photos featuring all the past decades

from the mowaks and the “utah poof”

to the crazy 80's hair do's.

How easy did I forget?

That time swiftly travels by

and life will always change,

never to be the same.

My History in Watercolor

So I wasn't sure what the rubric for the poem due today was because I missed class on Thursday, so i just wrote a poem of choice. Here it is! Let me know what you think!

My history in watercolor

The edges are blurred, the blue

of my favorite lunch pail bleeding

into the almond-colored siding

of the first Alhambra house.

A fearful night on the floor

of my mother’s room, a shadowed

home filled with roaches and

surrounded by men in black vests.

The Night Stalker was out front

I remember her saying then—

Or did she tell me later?

My reality weaves itself into

patterns of diluted colors in the gray halls

of my mind—colors that run

like dysfunctional pocket-watches,

starting and stopping—creating

new time, time unto itself…epochs

shaped by subjective reckonings

that only breathe for me.

And from these colors springs

a man, a man I only see in mirrors

or in photographs…a man,

I am told, is me.

It's me! David B! Hey that rhymes!

Hey y'all! I just wanted to let you know that I'm in like Erroll Flynn! I know it took me a while to join up, but as I'm pretty sure Confucious said (or would have if he'd thought of it)...better late than never! I will post something soon!

Zachary = Poem 8: revised

I was told to rewrite this and do it again: tell me what you think:

Stars are shinning in the sky

Little fireball in the night

While I sit, waiting for morning.

Dear Father-

I see the stars dotting across the black sky,

millions of lights in yellow, blue, and red,

dancing partners with the moons, planets,

weaving in and out of the milky way.

Even while you conduct the dance of time and space

you're still able look down to watch me today

without distrupting the music of the strings

and give an ear to my pleading prayer.

You control the sky, and the sun

gving commands when to rise or set,

yet you don't try to control me

but rather let me fall and cry.

Giving me a hand to climb the hill

when it seems to big to even try,

and protecting me from the flames,

stones, and storms of life,

all while conducting the art in the sky.

Thank you

Lauren

Zachary = Poem#7

My heroic Adventure

Eating little smarties resting in my hand

Surrounded by voices humming in the air,

all in unison except one -

“Are you humming Wizard of Oz again?”

Drat. It was mine,

The little bugger was humming without me knowing.

Wizard of Oz. Again.

“Maybe it's a sign” she suggested.

A sign? Maybe.

Maybe I need to go off on an adventure

far from everything I love and hold dear,

from all my comfort and zones of safety.

That's no secret.

Yet I'm still waiting, waiting for my turn to hear the call of adventure,

to go on a journey in search of a hidden hero

only to find one inside of myself.

Following the yellow brick road among little people

who live in the tops of tree and grow poisonous apples.

Running away from flying monkeys and

into a haunted forest filled with spider and snakes

only to find myself facing the devil within

a younger sister.

And yet at the end, when I'm flying in a giant balloon

I'll find myself saying that

“There's no place like home”

and craving for a piece of chocolate.