Tyler+Creighton+Poetry

Poem Portfolio Enjoy :)

**1.** "A poem begins in delight but ends in wisdom."

"Ode" Showing that you care Showing love Showing affection, trust Knowing when I fall, That you will be there to catch me Knowing that when I hurt, That you will be there to cradle me Knowing that when Im happy, That you will be there to share the joy Your wisdom is what I admire Your tears are my fears Even when no one hears I can hear those silent tears but you will never let me feel the hurt in your pain 5'6 inches of strength <span style="background-color: #ffffff; color: #333333; display: block; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-size: 14px; text-align: left;">Sometimes you make me angry <span style="background-color: #ffffff; color: #333333; display: block; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-size: 14px; text-align: left;">sometimes you make me mad <span style="background-color: #ffffff; color: #333333; display: block; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-size: 14px; text-align: left;">But your still my mother <span style="background-color: #ffffff; color: #333333; display: block; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-size: 14px; text-align: left;">I admire you <span style="background-color: #ffffff; color: #333333; display: block; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-size: 14px; text-align: left;">Remember that.
 * <span style="color: #3500ff; font-family: Impact,Charcoal,sans-serif;">2. **

<span style="background-color: #ffffff; color: #333333; display: block; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-size: 14px; text-align: left;"><span style="color: #f0da47; font-family: Impact,Charcoal,sans-serif;">"Sonnet" Well is every line written like shake spear This might be hard and impossible yes Writing this poem maybe hard and weird But all im going to do is just guess Im not going to complain but this is lame All these silly little words and spaces Makes me feel like im trying to play a game Jump tap tap jump space this is like faces I cant really describe that silly little space But I can say I cant write a poem At least not like shake spear this should erase All my memory of being able to show em Wow I actually got this this turned out To be a poem like his now I wanna shout !

<span style="color: #8b0480; font-family: Impact,Charcoal,sans-serif;">"Raised By" Poem <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 <span style="background-color: #ffffff; color: #333333; display: block; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-size: 14px; text-align: left;">Chicken eating <span style="background-color: #ffffff; color: #333333; display: block; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-size: 14px; text-align: left;">Northern style cooking <span style="background-color: #ffffff; color: #333333; display: block; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-size: 14px; text-align: left;">Bread so good makes you pull up a chair <span style="background-color: #ffffff; color: #333333; display: block; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-size: 14px; text-align: left;">and stare at it waiting for it to rise <span style="background-color: #ffffff; color: #333333; display: block; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-size: 14px; text-align: left;">"Wipe your mouth while your eating" <span style="background-color: #ffffff; color: #333333; display: block; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-size: 14px; text-align: left;">Kind of mother <span style="background-color: #ffffff; color: #333333; display: block; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-size: 14px; text-align: left;">Some Fine haire <span style="background-color: #ffffff; color: #333333; display: block; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-size: 14px; text-align: left;">Curly thick hair styling <span style="background-color: #ffffff; color: #333333; display: block; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-size: 14px; text-align: left;">"Sit down and let me comb ya hair out" <span style="background-color: #ffffff; color: #333333; display: block; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-size: 14px; text-align: left;">Sort of women <span style="background-color: #ffffff; color: #333333; display: block; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-size: 14px; text-align: left;">Some Finger pointing <span style="background-color: #ffffff; color: #333333; display: block; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-size: 14px; text-align: left;">Hand clapping Snapping <span style="background-color: #ffffff; color: #333333; display: block; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-size: 14px; text-align: left;">Funkadelic <span style="background-color: #ffffff; color: #333333; display: block; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-size: 14px; text-align: left;">"Let me see that tootsie roll" <span style="background-color: #ffffff; color: #333333; display: block; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-size: 14px; text-align: left;">Type of Men <span style="background-color: #ffffff; color: #333333; display: block; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-size: 14px; text-align: left;">Some Tee time <span style="background-color: #ffffff; color: #333333; display: block; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-size: 14px; text-align: left;">White glove wearing <span style="background-color: #ffffff; color: #333333; display: block; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-size: 14px; text-align: left;">Cleats tight in the grass <span style="background-color: #ffffff; color: #333333; display: block; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-size: 14px; text-align: left;">Smack that ball so fast <span style="background-color: #ffffff; color: #333333; display: block; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-size: 14px; text-align: left;">Lands on the green <span style="background-color: #ffffff; color: #333333; display: block; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-size: 14px; text-align: left;">In just a moment <span style="background-color: #ffffff; color: #333333; display: block; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-size: 14px; text-align: left;">"Don't talk back to me" <span style="background-color: #ffffff; color: #333333; display: block; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-size: 14px; text-align: left;">Type of Father <span style="background-color: #ffffff; color: #333333; display: block; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-size: 14px; text-align: left;">Some Hip rolling <span style="background-color: #ffffff; color: #333333; display: block; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-size: 14px; text-align: left;">Cultural dancing <span style="background-color: #ffffff; color: #333333; display: block; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-size: 14px; text-align: left;">"Better know how to bring back, c'mon girl I thought you was black" <span style="background-color: #ffffff; color: #333333; display: block; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-size: 14px; text-align: left;">Type of sisters <span style="background-color: #ffffff; color: #333333; display: block; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-size: 14px; text-align: left;">Some music Listening <span style="background-color: #ffffff; color: #333333; display: block; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-size: 14px; text-align: left;">Turn up the music so loud you can hear the base a block a way <span style="background-color: #ffffff; color: #333333; display: block; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-size: 14px; text-align: left;">Car vibrating from the speakers under the trunk <span style="background-color: #ffffff; color: #333333; display: block; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-size: 14px; text-align: left;">"Turn that damn music down, Im on the phone!" <span style="background-color: #ffffff; color: #333333; display: block; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-size: 14px; text-align: left;">Type of brother <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 my Parents

<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: Impact,Charcoal,sans-serif;">**"Poem of my choice"** <span style="background-color: #ffffff; color: #333333; display: block; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-size: 14px; text-align: left;">I sit and stare at this paper lying here thinking Blank Thinking of not only what to write but everything else These thought take over me as unspoken words Thinking So much it hurts to even lay this pen down, pressing down so hard on this paper as if Im letting my heart leak onto it instead of the pen Thoughts They soon begin to take over leaving me wondering Still blank I can't overcome this ponder Not even to write a sentence But yet Im still thinking Thinking about Nothing <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="background-color: #ffffff; color: #cc6600; display: block; font-family: Impact,Charcoal,sans-serif; font-size: 14px; text-align: left;">** 3. ** ** A statement about your own poetry **

<span style="background-color: #ffffff; color: #fc8383; font-family: Impact,Charcoal,sans-serif; font-size: 16px;">**4. Three poems from one poet of your choice** code <span style="font-family: verdana,arial,'lucida sans',helvetica,geneva,sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">Abortions will not let you forget. You remember the children you got that you did not get, The damp small pulps with a little or with no hair, The singers and workers that never handled the air. You will never neglect or beat Them, or silence or buy with a sweet. You will never wind up the sucking-thumb Or scuttle off ghosts that come. You will never leave them, controlling your luscious sigh, Return for a snack of them, with gobbling mother-eye.
 * The Mother ||||  ||
 * by [|Gwendolyn Brooks] ||

I have heard in the voices of the wind the voices of my dim killed children. I have contracted. I have eased My dim dears at the breasts they could never suck. I have said, Sweets, if I sinned, if I seized Your luck And your lives from your unfinished reach, If I stole your births and your names, Your straight baby tears and your games, Your stilted or lovely loves, your tumults, your marriages, aches, and your deaths, If I poisoned the beginnings of your breaths, Believe that even in my deliberateness I was not deliberate. Though why should I whine, Whine that the crime was other than mine?-- Since anyhow you are dead. Or rather, or instead, You were never made. But that too, I am afraid, Is faulty: oh, what shall I say, how is the truth to be said? You were born, you had body, you died. It is just that you never giggled or planned or cried.

Believe me, I loved you all. Believe me, I knew you, though faintly, and I loved, I loved you All. code || =**<span style="color: #02f2c5; font-family: Impact,Charcoal,sans-serif;">5. Close editing**= In this poem it is addressing an un-born baby.The topic of this poem is to tell the baby how much she loved it and to tell the reader what the baby would be like and how it feels and other things that revolve around that baby. In this poem there is a structural form. There are rhyme schemes in this poem. There are rhymes between lines of this poem. Every line rhymes with the last. If the words don't rhyme then the wording is the same. There are also some repetition. The author repeats some sentences, i feel she does that to gather the thought and what ever you thought of the poem to one. There is a constant repeated image of a baby and how the baby. This image if very descriptive and uses imagery. I picture a unborn baby in the womb and picturing its features and many other things she mentions. The punctuations in the beginning of every line the word is capitalized no matter what. The line length of this poem varies depending on how the author ends the sentence. When the line breaks the create enjambments. When the line ends it is a thought that continues on the the next line it isn't broken. Forming these type of line breaks it creates a sorrow feeling in almost each line. The language of this poem is pretty contemporary. It doesn't change the feelings for this deeper. The tone really relates to the mood. By the way this poem structured the tone seems very soft and sorrowful and caring. This makes the readers mood very emotional. The author uses of emotion and sorrowness creates and overall emotional feeling for the reader

In the poem The Mother, the poet uses Descriptive imagery to create this picture of a baby. This poem is about a the poet loosing a child, in the poem the author makes a few images about the baby and comments to make me think this poem is about that. The imagery in this poems that the poet has lost a child but never lost the love she had for this child. The way the author writes this poem has an emotional impact on the reader. She uses end-stopped lines in her poem so her sentences don't really pause they just stop. This causes the reader to read a bit more faster and the sentences seem cut. The stanzas in the poem are a bit short they are 2 to 3 lines long. I think the best part of this poem is the ability it gives a person to visualize in their heads what this child looks like. For example when the author writes " The damp small pulps with a little or with no hair,The singers and workers that never handled the air.You will never neglect or beatThem, or silence or buy with a sweet.You will never wind up the sucking-thumbOr scuttle off ghosts that come." I see a new born baby with little hairs sucking his thumb."I have heard in the voices of the wind the voices of my dim killed children." In her mind i can see a that would be a child. A child that she would have loved and what this child would look like. I think what makes this poem so great is that it can show a child and what happened in words, giving a reader a deeper understanding of what there would be like. code <span style="font-family: verdana,arial,'lucida sans',helvetica,geneva,sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">Arrive in the afternoon, the late light slanting In diluted gold bars across the boulevard brag Of proud, seamed faces with mercy and murder hinting Here, there, interrupting, all deep and debonair, The pink paint on the innocence of fear; Walk in a gingerly manner up the hall. Cutting with knives served by their softest care, Served by their love, so barbarously fair. Whose mothers taught: You'd better not be cruel! You had better not throw stones upon the wrens! Herein they kiss and coddle and assault Anew and dearly in the innocence With which they baffle nature. Who are full, Sleek, tender-clad, fit, fiftyish, a-glow, all Sweetly abortive, hinting at fat fruit, Judge it high time that fiftyish fingers felt Beneath the lovelier planes of enterprise. To resurrect. To moisten with milky chill. To be a random hitching post or plush. To be, for wet eyes, random and handy hem. Their guild is giving money to the poor. The worthy poor. The very very worthy And beautiful poor. Perhaps just not too swarthy? Perhaps just not too dirty nor too dim Nor--passionate. In truth, what they could wish Is--something less than derelict or dull. Not staunch enough to stab, though, gaze for gaze! God shield them sharply from the beggar-bold! The noxious needy ones whose battle's bald Nonetheless for being voiceless, hits one down. But it's all so bad! and entirely too much for them. The stench; the urine, cabbage, and dead beans, Dead porridges of assorted dusty grains, The old smoke, //heavy// diapers, and, they're told, Something called chitterlings. The darkness. Drawn Darkness, or dirty light. The soil that stirs. The soil that looks the soil of centuries. And for that matter the //general// oldness. Old Wood. Old marble. Old tile. Old old old. Note homekind Oldness! Not Lake Forest, Glencoe. Nothing is sturdy, nothing is majestic, There is no quiet drama, no rubbed glaze, no Unkillable infirmity of such A tasteful turn as lately they have left, Glencoe, Lake Forest, and to which their cars Must presently restore them. When they're done With dullards and distortions of this fistic Patience of the poor and put-upon. They've never seen such a make-do-ness as Newspaper rugs before! In this, this "flat," Their hostess is gathering up the oozed, the rich Rugs of the morning (tattered! the bespattered . . . ), Readies to spread clean rugs for afternoon. Here is a scene for you. The Ladies look, In horror, behind a substantial citizeness Whose trains clank out across her swollen heart. Who, arms akimbo, almost fills a door. All tumbling children, quilts dragged to the floor And tortured thereover, potato peelings, soft- Eyed kitten, hunched-up, haggard, to-be-hurt. Their League is allotting largesse to the Lost. But to put their clean, their pretty money, to put Their money collected from delicate rose-fingers Tipped with their hundred flawless rose-nails seems. . .   They own Spode, Lowestoft, candelabra, Mantels, and hostess gowns, and sunburst clocks, Turtle soup, Chippendale, red satin "hangings," Aubussons and Hattie Carnegie. They Winter In Palm Beach; cross the Water in June; attend, When suitable, the nice Art Institute; Buy the right books in the best bindings; saunter On Michigan, Easter mornings, in sun or wind. Oh Squalor! This sick four-story hulk, this fibre With fissures everywhere! Why, what are bringings Of loathe-love largesse? What shall peril hungers So old old, what shall flatter the desolate? Tin can, blocked fire escape and chitterling And swaggering seeking youth and the puzzled wreckage Of the middle passage, and urine and stale shames And, again, the porridges of the underslung And children children children. Heavens! That Was a rat, surely, off there, in the shadows? Long And long-tailed? Gray? The Ladies from the Ladies' Betterment League agree it will be better To achieve the outer air that rights and steadies, To hie to a house that does not holler, to ring Bells elsetime, better presently to cater To no more Possibilities, to get Away. Perhaps the money can be posted. Perhaps they two may choose another Slum! Some serious sooty half-unhappy home!-- Where loathe-lover likelier may be invested. Keeping their scented bodies in the center Of the hall as they walk down the hysterical hall, They allow their lovely skirts to graze no wall, Are off at what they manage of a canter, And, resuming all the clues of what they were, Try to avoid inhaling the laden air. code =**<span style="color: #02f2c5; font-family: Impact,Charcoal,sans-serif;">5. **=
 * Analysis Paragraph**
 * || The Lovers of the Poor ||


 * Close Reading**

code <span style="font-family: verdana,arial,'lucida sans',helvetica,geneva,sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">Oh mother, mother, where is happiness? They took my lover's tallness off to war, Left me lamenting. Now I cannot guess What I can use an empty heart-cup for. He won't be coming back here any more. Some day the war will end, but, oh, I knew When he went walking grandly out that door That my sweet love would have to be untrue. Would have to be untrue. Would have to court Coquettish death, whose impudent and strange Possessive arms and beauty (of a sort) Can make a hard man hesitate--and change. And he will be the one to stammer, "Yes." Oh mother, mother, where is happiness? code || =**<span style="color: #02f2c5; font-family: Impact,Charcoal,sans-serif;">5. **= This pom seems to be addressing happiness Im not sure if she's trying to indicate happiness as equalling her lover or it just being happiness in general.In this poem the author talks about how empty her heart is.This poem has repetition rhyme schemes, and patterns of matter. During this paragraph there is a sonnet. At the end of every sentence the last word rhymes with the sentence above it. For example "Now I cannot guess what I can use an empty heart-cup for. He won't be coming back here any more."She repeats the first linear the end and a few times during the poem. Theres a few repeated sentences. "Oh mother, Oh mother where is happiness?" Because she starts every line over between each comma, she capitalized every break and after periods, between every punctuation mark.This is an Iambic poem.It has syllables but only one count each. In every line it seems to be shorter than the one before it. These lines create an end-stopped line.
 * Analysis Paragraph**
 * the sonnet-ballad ||||  ||
 * by [|Gwendolyn Brooks] ||
 * Close reading**
 * Analysis Paragraph**

HOPE YOU ENJOYED:)