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.

Hunt - Poem 7

Untitled

45 miles East from the Greatest Snow on Earth
lives a small outdoor stage where the air

rings with chatter--like the Tower of Babel
people gather, talking, laughing, waiting.

A man spreads a patchwork quilt on the lawn.
He holds his wife's hand as she sits down. Danke schon.

Performers dance around the Maypole,
tying up some blushing man in a rainbow of ribbon.

A woman in Shakespearean dress
sells fruit tarts and horehound candy

from a small wicker basket.
She sways back and forth,

Tarts for sale. Fruit tarts for sale.
Her American hiding under a cultured British.

Under magic boughs with guardian arms
Punch and Judy tease and play.

Children's laughter rolls across lush grass.
Eyes shine, smiles play on rosy faces

despite the summer heat
or the dampness of the grass.

Designer, Illustrator, Poet collaboration?

Hey guys! Just wondering who ya'll got as a designer, and, if you know, as an illustrator.

Kramer | Poem #7

We are

one thought evolving into another,

leading on until

we begin

confusing what we don’t understand

for what we can’t understand,

reverting to symbology,

detailing

this is man, this is woman,

in crude fashion,

we are man,

we are woman,

O, A, B, positive, negative, A, B, X, X, Y,

we are

the dust of the earth,

the breath of God stirring us

until we dream we are flying,

believing that we are supporting the sky,

pushing against the earth with our toes,

caught between abstracts where

we yearn for above, below,

for everything surrounding.

Kramer | Poem #1

I opened a box of my favorite postcards
and read each entry as if from a journal:

“Dear friend,
I ate Gouda today.
Day three from the break-up.”

Love, hugs and kisses, behave yourself,
don’t forget to feed the cat.

I opened this box of postcards
and I found the ones I never sent
from places I’ve never been,
with beach scenes and Berlin
and old, black-and-white men
with straw hats
who sat on their porch
while photographers passed by,
recorded this memory for me,
and moved on with their life.

I set each cardstock message aside
until I found one
I always try not to remember,
as remembrance is a stinging surprise,
the seven-year-old’s handwriting
still neat
but impossible to read:

“Dog died today.
I cried.
When are you coming home?”

Zachary = Poem #5

This poem: I had many problems... and wrote it right before it was due.. lol

enjoy tearing it apart! Let me know what you think!

Preface

In a land unknown, except by you and me

There lives a wicked old man in a giant tree

During the day he was big and mean,

three eyes and a voice that can't sing.

as soon as night falls, he changes with the sky:

becoming small and black, and blood-shot eyes.

When the silver disk rises among the shining stars

his wolfish howl is heard, rippling like his scars.

people nearby are scared out of their wits

always afraid of the when their town will be hit

by this evil man who kidnaps every new baby

on the midnight ring on the eve of May Day.

For years this man has been the plague of the town

from the spring of time to now when the world is brown.

But recently there's been a rumor of a hero, it's true,

of a person who'll kill this beast. Who is it? It's YOU!

~*~*~*~*~

You've just moved to town called Valley Adieu,

in a beautiful home, except it looks like a shoe.

Then one day, you hear about the wicked ol' man

who lives in a tree and steals every child he can.

You want to do something now you've know the news

which path, what decisions, are you going to choose?

You begin to make plans to face this evil beast,

but there's one problem or you'll face defeat.

Not only does he live in the lands unknown,

but whoever looks at him will be turned to stone!

If you want to quit, go to the next stanza.

If you decide to keep going, go to stanza 4.

So sad that you gave up, the quest is left undone

but now you can live, and maybe have some fun

or maybe you'll be haunted by with thoughts in your head

that you shouldn't have left all those children for dead.

THE END

~*~*~*~*~*~

So you choose to go and fight the evil man?

Good job! If you win you will be the talk of the land!

You must travel to the old zoo and find the lion,

give him a heart and maybe he will give you a clue

as to where you must go, and what you must do

follow his advice and wear your special shoes

So you went to the zoo, walking all round,

til night and you heard a rumbling sound,

running towards it, you turn on your flash light

and you are stunned by a horrendous sight.

There stood not just a lion, but the king of them all

he was a giant, with blue hair and very very tall.

You shake with fear as his sharp teeth are bared,

For nothing on this earth would have helped you prepare

to see this scary lion, so fierce and strong

maybe he'll eat you and this story will end all wrong!

Do you proceed to ask him a question?

Yes: Stanza 8

No: Next stanza

You turn around and begin to walk away

hearing a little voice inside begins to say:

“So sad that you gave up, the quest is now left undone

Even if you live, and now can have some fun

you'll be haunted with these thoughts inside your head

you shouldn't have left all those children for dead.”

THE END

~*~*~*~*~*~

You ask the grand lion a question, he turns out to be nice,

giving you the answers and some valuable advice.

When dawn came, the sun waking in all his glory

you leave the zoo to begin your heroic story.

Walking through the woods, you reach the dark cave

where the evil man is hidden except from a sharp gaze

you creep up behind and enter through a back door

following a tunnel that leads you to it's core.

Up and down, right and left,

It's pitch black and you must watch your step.

Soon you reach the end, with a miniture palace in view

Surrounded by a lake of goopy orange goo.

But putting on your boots, you are able to cross

For they are covered in magic seaweed and moss.

Once inside you find the monster's lair,

and the children in a cage guarded by a bear.

Stealing a key from the sleeping man,

poisoned by a fairies, who traveled ahead

killing the man and distracting the bear.

You open the door and grab the poor babies,

running outside and avoiding dogs with rabies.

When you finally made it through the front gate

reaching the town, everyone is finally safe!

Now your a hero, the greatest of all

and forever you'll be writing about in songs.

THE END

Zachary = Poem #1:

I opened a box of my favorite postcards,
reminiscing in the smell and touch of each one,
caressing photos and handwritten letters
each filled with memories long forgotten.
Letters from friends who vanished in thin air,
or friends who became friends no more.
Lovers long forgotten, with kisses covering each page,
and those from missionaries who might have been.
Family photos from every year, changing gradually
that one doesn’t realize till later,
how much time is passing by, or how much they’ve grown
before I see them face to face again.
Memories is the back of my head,
each one connected with a simple scent,
simple word, or simple event
bringing back the pain or the joy,
eventually the sorrow that
I can’t go back to what used to be.