Victoria+Odom

"Poetry is the universal language. . ."
=="Poetry is above all a concentration of the power, which is the power of our ultimate relationship to everything in the universe." ==

**__Ode__**
You're there when I need you

One touch and a burst of happiness is entering my ears

Different tones and sounds express every way I feel and understands me

even when I feel like nobody does

That connection and special vibe I feel like no other

Its me and you time

<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">The only thing that keeps us apart is the cord with its mini speakers

<span style="background-color: #ffffff; color: #333333; display: block; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-size: 14px; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">which will soon be placed in my ears

<span style="background-color: #ffffff; color: #333333; display: block; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-size: 14px; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">You're that tasteless drug that I'm addicted to and I can't get enough of you

<span style="background-color: #ffffff; color: #333333; display: block; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-size: 14px; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">If I could I'd have you 24/7

<span style="background-color: #ffffff; color: #333333; display: block; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-size: 14px; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">A last you also need your rest too

<span style="background-color: #ffffff; color: #333333; display: block; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-size: 14px; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">but when you're fully energized nothing can tear us apart

<span style="background-color: #ffffff; color: #333333; display: block; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-size: 14px; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">My iPod <span style="background-color: #ffffff; color: #333333; display: block; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-size: 14px; text-align: left;">

** __Sonnet__ **
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">Is it me or is it you who should stay The feeling without you gets me so blue Shall I compare thee to a summers day You deceived me. Cheated? Could this be true I can not go a day without your voice Thinking to myself if this is true love To stay or leave is a really hard choice Behind my back? you went far and above "You're the one" is all that runs through my head. <span style="background-color: #ffffff; color: #333333; display: block; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-size: 14px; text-align: left;">

<span style="background-color: #ffffff; color: #800080; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-size: 14px;"> __** I was raised by.... **__
<span style="background-color: #ffffff; color: #333333; display: block; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-size: 14px; text-align: left;"> I was raised by the sound of old school music blasting from my basement as my dad practiced his DJing Hip-Hop Rap Pop It all shapes us today and is one of society’s leading entertainments. <span style="background-color: #ffffff; color: #333333; display: block; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-size: 14px; text-align: left;"> I was raised by the sweet smell of my mother’s soul food cooking as she would prepare dinner. Fried Chicken Corn Bread Baked Mac and Cheese Sweet Potatoes I can never get enough of my mommas cooking.

I was raised by the sound of gunshots, police cars, and helicopters roaming the streets as I tried to go to sleep at night. Crooks Convicts Thugs Thieves Killers What young kids grow up to be because of bad influences.

I was raised by the saying “Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me.”, growing up in school. Bullying Hazing Abuse Harassment All lead up to depression and sometimes suicide because people like to pick on the outcast. <span style="background-color: #ffffff; color: #333333; display: block; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-size: 14px; text-align: left;"> <span style="background-color: #ffffff; color: #333333; display: block; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-size: 14px; text-align: left;"> <span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"> **__Breathe__** <span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"> <span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Everything is bright in my world <span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">but that world is lost <span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">The new world is here <span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">but sadness is what conquers this world <span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"> Feeling my mind with bad thoughts <span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"> and destroying the good ones <span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"> Little air <span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"> more fire <span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"> I choke on the desperate words that try and come out <span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"> but they are over come by a harsh mute <span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"> By then nothing comes out at all <span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"> not. even. one breathe. <span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">

<span style="background-color: #ffffff; color: #333333; display: block; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-size: 14px; text-align: left;"> **__<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Author Statement __** In my opinion, poetry is just expression we write down creatively in words. Most of my poems don’t rhyme but sometimes they do. I most often write when I’m not in a good mood or overly excited. My inspiration comes from the people around me, I write about things others can relate to and the style is what I think will draw in someone’s attention. I write free poetry and don’t follow the different rules of poetry. I think that poetry is an endless limit of creative express and someone can’t tell you if it’s right or wrong. As long as you think it’s good someone else’s opinion should not matter.

code //A Poem for Barack Obama's Presidential Inauguration//
 * Praise Song for the Day ||||  ||
 * by [|Elizabeth Alexander] ||

Each day we go about our business, walking past each other, catching each other's eyes or not, about to speak or speaking.

All about us is noise. All about us is noise and bramble, thorn and din, each one of our ancestors on our tongues.

Someone is stitching up a hem, darning a hole in a uniform, patching a tire, repairing the things in need of repair.

Someone is trying to make music somewhere, with a pair of wooden spoons on an oil drum, with cello, boom box, harmonica, voice.

A woman and her son wait for the bus. A farmer considers the changing sky. A teacher says,Take out your pencils. Begin.

We encounter each other in words, words spiny or smooth, whispered or declaimed, words to consider, reconsider.

We cross dirt roads and highways that mark the will of some one and then others, who said I need to see what's on the other side.

I know there's something better down the road. We need to find a place where we are safe. We walk into that which we cannot yet see.

Say it plain: that many have died for this day. Sing the names of the dead who brought us here, who laid the train tracks, raised the bridges,

picked the cotton and the lettuce, built brick by brick the glittering edifices they would then keep clean and work inside of.

Praise song for struggle, praise song for the day. Praise song for every hand-lettered sign, the figuring-it-out at kitchen tables.

Some live by love thy neighbor as thyself, others by first do no harm or take no more than you need. What if the mightiest word is love?

Love beyond marital, filial, national, love that casts a widening pool of light, love with no need to pre-empt grievance.

In today's sharp sparkle, this winter air, any thing can be made, any sentence begun. On the brink, on the brim, on the cusp,

praise song for walking forward in that light. code

**__ Deep Understanding __**
In the poem Praise Song for the Day, the poet uses generalization and history to tell people what we have accomplished. This poem was made for President Obama when he was being inaugurated. It is formally written because of the way the lines and stanzas are written, so the way you are meant to read it is in a speech. The word “we” is used a lot in the poem and when the author writes, “…who laid the train tracks, raised bridges, picked cotton and the lettuce.” it’s saying that “we” means African-Americans. The author also uses a bit of imagery, this occurs in the beginning of the poem, she talks about what happens in every moment of everyday. As the poem processes she transitions from the present and talks about the struggles of the past in detail. It grabs your attention and shows cause and effect from then to today. The author includes part of the title, ”praise song for…”, in the poem which shows a more celebratory tone showing pride in the inaugurated of the new black president.


 * <span style="font-family: verdana,arial,'lucida sans',helvetica,geneva,sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">LADDERS **

<span style="font-family: verdana,arial,'lucida sans',helvetica,geneva,sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">Filene's department store <span style="font-family: verdana,arial,'lucida sans',helvetica,geneva,sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"> near nineteen-fifty-three: <span style="font-family: verdana,arial,'lucida sans',helvetica,geneva,sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"> An Aunt Jemima floor <span style="font-family: verdana,arial,'lucida sans',helvetica,geneva,sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"> display. Red bandanna,

<span style="font-family: verdana,arial,'lucida sans',helvetica,geneva,sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"> Apron holding white rolls <span style="font-family: verdana,arial,'lucida sans',helvetica,geneva,sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"> of black fat fast against <span style="font-family: verdana,arial,'lucida sans',helvetica,geneva,sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"> the bubbling pancakes, bowls <span style="font-family: verdana,arial,'lucida sans',helvetica,geneva,sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"> and bowls of pale batter.

<span style="font-family: verdana,arial,'lucida sans',helvetica,geneva,sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"> This is what Donna sees, <span style="font-family: verdana,arial,'lucida sans',helvetica,geneva,sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"> across the "Cookwares" floor, <span style="font-family: verdana,arial,'lucida sans',helvetica,geneva,sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"> and hears "Donnessa?" //Please, This can not be my aunt.//

<span style="font-family: verdana,arial,'lucida sans',helvetica,geneva,sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"> Father's long-gone sister, <span style="font-family: verdana,arial,'lucida sans',helvetica,geneva,sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"> nineteen-fifty-three. "Girl?" <span style="font-family: verdana,arial,'lucida sans',helvetica,geneva,sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"> Had they lost her, missed her? <span style="font-family: verdana,arial,'lucida sans',helvetica,geneva,sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"> This is not the question.

<span style="font-family: verdana,arial,'lucida sans',helvetica,geneva,sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"> //This must not be my aunt.// <span style="font-family: verdana,arial,'lucida sans',helvetica,geneva,sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"> Jemima? Pays the rent. <span style="font-family: verdana,arial,'lucida sans',helvetica,geneva,sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"> Family mirrors haunt <span style="font-family: verdana,arial,'lucida sans',helvetica,geneva,sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"> their own reflections.

<span style="font-family: verdana,arial,'lucida sans',helvetica,geneva,sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"> Ladders. Sisters. Nieces. <span style="font-family: verdana,arial,'lucida sans',helvetica,geneva,sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"> As soon as a live Jemima <span style="font-family: verdana,arial,'lucida sans',helvetica,geneva,sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"> as a buck-eyed rhesus <span style="font-family: verdana,arial,'lucida sans',helvetica,geneva,sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"> monkey. Girl? Answer me.

**__ Deep Understanding __**
In the poem Ladders, the author is addressing someone but describes the scene in detail. There are 6 stanzas and 4 lines in each stanza. The poem is written like a sonnet, the first and third line rhyme with each other. The lines continue until the thought is complete, but the poem is informal. There’s some confusion because it is direct and indirectly written." "Cookwares" floor, and hears "Donnessa?..."", dialogue is used to help explain the scene eve more. The poet starts off descriptive and neutral but as it processes it gets resentful. The author narratively brings you in and has you thinking as you thinking as you read more. ||

code I am lazy, the laziest girl in the world. I sleep during the day when I want to, 'til my face is creased and swollen, 'til my lips are dry and hot. I eat as I please: cookies and milk after lunch, butter and sour cream on my baked potato, foods that slothful people eat, that turn yellow and opaque beneath the skin. Sometimes come dinnertime Sunday I am still in my nightgown, the one with the lace trim listing because I have not mended it. Many days I do not exercise, only consider it, then rub my curdy belly and lie down. Even my poems are lazy. I use syllabics instead of iambs, prefer slant to the gong of full rhyme, write briefly while others go for pages. And yesterday, for example, I did not work at all! I got in my car and I drove to factory outlet stores, purchased stockings and panties and socks with my father's money.
 * Blues ||||  ||
 * by [|Elizabeth Alexander] ||

To think, in childhood I missed only one day of school per year. I went to ballet class four days a week at four-forty-five and on Saturdays, beginning always with plie, ending with curtsy. To think, I knew only industry, the industry of my race and of immigrants, the radio tuned always to the station that said, Line up your summer job months in advance. Work hard and do not shame your family, who worked hard to give you what you have. There is no sin but sloth. Burn to a wick and keep moving.

I avoided sleep for years, up at night replaying evening news stories about nearby jailbreaks, fat people who ate fried chicken and woke up for poems in the shape of open V's of birds flying in formation, or open arms saying, I forgive you, all. code ||  ||

**__ Deep Understanding __**
In the poem Blues, the poet addresses herself, and talks about things that occurred in her life. The poem is written like a story but not written in any particular pattern. It is telling the past and the present in a neutral sense, like casual talk. There are no repeated words or rhymes. The author does start off with a large stanza and the next ones are smaller and smaller as the poem goes on." I am lazy, the laziest girl in the world.", I think the author put this first line because every girl can relate to it and makes the reader more interested to know it shows someone about themselves. The poem narrates her childhood, and the author grabs your attention with the ups and downs of her life, that are written creatively.