Black Ice

I like him. Although most of his poems are about the struggle of black males. I still understand him. Which in my opinion is what poets are suppose to do. He also is the type of poet that doesnt yell, and scream, and still has the capability to get his message across.

Sarah Kay

I'm familiar with Sarah Kay's work, so this poem "If I should have a daughter." in my opinion on a scale to 1-10 is a 6. Sarah Kay is a calm poet, she doesnt scream, and yell. She just speaks, sort of like a mom, that has a lot to say. I guess that's her style.

Slam Nation

Day one of slam nation was the introduction to the poets and there style. In my opinion I really like Saul and The girl with the braids ( i dont remember her name ) and the asian guy. They're the main ones that stuck out to me. I like how they incorporated their life into it. Also they were just speaking from the heart, not to get votes ( most of the time ). The one guy that did "I could be a poet" i felt like he was just acting out , so that he can win. I know its a competition, but im sure there are other ways to attract your audience, have them relate to you, get votes, and win. But this is only day one, maybe he will change my view on him, and maybe the other poets that I didnt remeber, will do something that makes me remember them. But so far Saul. the girl witht the braids, and the asian guy are my favorites

Credo by Matther Rohrer

I believe there is something else
entirely going on but no single
person can ever know it,
so we fall in love.
It could also be true that what we use
everyday to open cans was something
much nobler, that we'll never recognize.
I believe the woman sleeping beside me
doesn't care about what's going on
outside, and her body is warm
with trust
which is a great beginning.

When You Are Old by W.B Yeats

When you are old and grey and full of sleep,
And nodding by the fire, take down this book,
And slowly read, and dream of the soft look
Your eyes had once, and of their shadows deep;

How many loved your moments of glad grace,
And loved your beauty with love false or true,
But one man loved the pilgrim soul in you,
And loved the sorrows of your changing face;

And bending down beside the glowing bars,
Murmur, a little sadly, how Love fled
And paced upon the mountains overhead
And hid his face amid a crowd of stars.

Quaterly Poem Project Poem

A Girl

The tree has entered my hands,
The sap has ascended my arms,
The tree has grown in my breast -
Downward,
The branches grow out of me, like arms.

Tree you are,
Moss you are,
You are violets with wind above them.
A child - so high - you are,
And all this is folly to the world.

Ezra Pound

Picture Poem (edit)

Baby me,
Teddy bears and kicking pebbles
Episodes of Teletubbies, and long naps
Animal crackers and apple juice
"Mommyyyyyyyy, but I dont want to sleep."

Older me,
Notebooks and pushing boulders
Drowsiness spells, craving for a break
College, and job applications, witha side of coffee
"Alarm clock, shut upppppppppppp !"

The silver spoon is slowly being removed .

Picture Poem

Baby me,
So young . . . carefree
No stress
No worries
Everything was given to me

Older me,
Still young . . . but NOT carefree
A lot of stress
Some worries
Everything now has to be earned

The silver spoon is slowly being removed . . .

My Favorite Lines

"Because my mouth is wide with laughter,
You do not hear my inner cry?
Becasue my feet ar gay with dancing,
You do not know I die?"
They begin beating it with a hose to find out what it really means.
No wonder the moon in the window seems to have drifted out of a love poem
That you used to know by heart