Writing a Poem (revised)

so i’m wrIting this poeM you see?

and the words areN’t coming sO easy,

they acTuAlly seem to be runninG away frOm me

i run after them, my paper in hand

waving it arOund, hoping that on it they lanD

“stoP running away!” i loudly demand

but they turn and laugh, as they carry On

too tired to continuE, my day’s been long

maybe a lyricist will catch them, turn them inTo a song

End of the Semester

Looking for a new home,

I found my way here

Life’s different now

I make my own decisions

and sometimes

I pay the consequences

but they’re my decisions

and it’s my life

I’m responsible for me.

But as the seasons change

so does my life.

Forced to go back

to where I came from

I’m under their jurisdiction now

their rules

their hours

their decisions;

and as much as I’ll enjoy

having little responsibility

no tests

and no papers

I’ll be awaiting the chance

to come back again

Three Days.

Needing groceries, you travel to the store.

After grabbing bread, milk, cereal,

the basics

you remember you need pork roast

because you offered to make dinner

for your best friend

It’s like the Last Supper,

she’s going away and you’re not sure

when she’ll be back

or if she’ll ever be back

or if you’ll ever see her again.

So you’re making a nice dinner

for the two of you

Have you ever been to a meat market?

You walk up to the counter

grab a number

hang back

and wait to be called.

Sometimes in a hurry,

you begin to tap your foot.

Sometimes you see a good friend

standing in line waiting too

In some weird way,

that’s our friendship.

Crazy nights spent together, that’s the meat

and after you made the announcement

you were leaving

those nights became numbered.

I definitely wasn’t in a hurry

for that number to be called

but it seems as if there isn’t a choice.

Waiting in lines can be a waste of time

but while waiting in that line,

talking to you

our friendship grew

Three days.

My number’s up in three days.

Poem Pieces

In View of the Fact - A. R. Ammons

"until we die we will remember every
single thing, recall every word, love every
loss: then we will, as we must, leave it toothers to love, love that can grow brighterand deeper till the very end, gaining strengthand getting more precious all the way. . . ."I should learn to look at an empty skyAnd feel its total dark sublime,Though this might take me a little time."




The More Loving One - W. H. Auden
"were all stars to disappear or die,
I should learn to look at an empty sky
And feel its total dark sublime,
Though this might take me a little time."

Know (revised)

I get so upset, so disappointed
in what you do
who you are
but you don't know
You helped give me life,
but sometimes I'm embarrassed
to say I know you
to be seen with you
but you don't know
You're not who they think you are
you're not who I want you to be
but you don't know

You don't know
that I wish you were there
supporting me
encouraging me
You don't know
that you could be more
so much more
if you'd just try
You don't know
that you're looked up to
an example
a leader
You don't know
that you have this chance
this responsibility
to make a difference

I wish I had the courage
to tell you what you don't know

RIT Invitational (revised)

So nervous I'm shaking

and feeling sick to my stomach

I'm looking for every excuse not to compete,

to somehow be able to just sit and cry

My first meet of collegiate track,

my first ever meet for indoor track

my first meet ever where you weren't going to be there

in the stands

cheering me on

screaming my name above all the noise.

I can always pick out your voice

no matter how loud the crowd is

or how much I try to tune you out

Your voice is always there

always encouraging

always comforting

always exactly what I need

to help me across that finish line

But I was picking up my pole
and walking to the runway,

as I searched the crowd frantically

you were nowhere to be found

Landscape Poem Three: One End to the Other (revised)

Down the hill, if you follow the path

there in front of you will be a field

unlined, unscathed

leaves scattered all around

The sun moving across the sky

causes the shadows to dance

Continue on the old beaten path

with its cracks and rough edges

and the sound underfoot will change

as the pavement turns to gravel

and you tread upon broken stones

The path turns quickly

and you're left looking at the track

the jumping mats covered

and hurdles laying on their sides

as high school students run in circles

Soccer Ball (revised)

always with me

in case I find a few extra minutes

my passion, my love,
my identity,

in only a round ball

black and white

pentagons and hexagons

kicking you around

makes my day brighter

Landscape Poem Two: Protected (revised)

The woods around the valley

are like a big brother

to the creek that lies within

shielding it from the dangers

of the world above

The ground is covered

in fallen trees and branches

and the trees left standing

are barren, lifeless, dead.

The only sign of life

in the valley

lies in the winding creek

but even that is reduced

to a tiny rippling stream

Landscape Poem One: Nature of Time (revised)

Shadows of time

In the concrete

Pavement cracked

Yellow paint faded

Edges rough, rigid

Weathered.

That Kind of Feeling (revised)

It’s the kind of feeling

That makes you smile like an idiot

And laugh at the dumbest things

That makes the sun shine brighter

And the clouds clear on a rainy day

That makes you quote all the lines

And watch the movies over and over

That makes you lose all focus

And keep your head in the clouds

That makes your skip a heart beat

And your breath rise and fall

It’s that kind of feeling

Frisbee

It's warm and sunny outside,
seventy degrees to be exact;
it's the middle of March,
and we're in Houghton.
If that were a math equation
it'd equal a round disk
and a large group of students in the quad.

List Poem: Cliches

I may be digging myself a hole
when I say I'm head over heels in love with you.
Absence makes the heart grow fonder
but there's a chair in the lounge that has your name on it.
This love's not blind
and I haven't hit the ground running
Maybe it's all a part of God's plan,
not just the blind leading the blind.
I hope this feeling stays in the ballpark
and I don't have to open mouth insert foot.

Skeletons in the Closet

The past.

It’s called the past for a reason,
so why does it keep coming up in the present?
It’s like the old cliché “skeletons in the closet”
except that’s not the case.
We don’t have any skeletons,
just memories that will never fade.

Epigrams

We don't have a cure for anything, just millions of ways to prolong death.
Wounds may heal but scars never fade.
We wear the same jersey, but we're not on the same team.
We all live by some set of rules, that's why we always draw the shape before we color it in.
I can't have what used to be mine.
Love - a four letter word that means more than a million could explain
Famous last words: "But I love her/him"

American Sonnet Assignment: Forty-Five Minutes to Last a Lifetime (revised)

It all started in a matter of weeks

you were just another girl on the team.

As the season went on, that view would change;

that weekend in Boston, the turning point

of our friendship. Despite my reluctance,

I decided to go running with you.

Only forty-five torturous minutes

Were needed and the memories began.

But how our friendship started says nothing

about where we are now, or where we’ll be

once you leave, because a few months ago

you broke the news that you’ll be transferring

in the fall to a college near your home.

The Journey (revised)

I've traveled the country to see you,

gotten as close as I possibly could.

You're just around the corner,

would you take the last steps?

I can't come any further

the distance between us is short.

I’ll just sit here waiting,

Waiting for you to come

It hurts to be so close

and still so far away;

The journey was long,
but it’s not over yet

.

My heart is aching,

patiently waiting.

Is it worth the distance,

am I worth it to you?

How many the miles?
Twelve hundred, I've counted.
Our friendship has survived
the distance this long.

But now I'm so close,
so close to you.
You said you would come,
but the hour came

and I sat alone.

Roots (revised)

The seasons of our lives are constantly changing

People coming and going with the whisper of the wind

There is a Plan for each one of us

Sometimes we get to grow along side each other
our friendships the encouragement to go on

And then sometimes we have to grow apart
the tears of goodbye leaving our paths blurred

Regardless of what happens

we have to be thankful for the time we had

Whenourrootsgrewtogether

Narrative Poems Exercise

Jessica's Story:

I dropped my stuff on my bed and looked around.  Yep, I’m home again.  The room is much cleaner than it ever was whenever I was home.  I felt almost as if I was another person’s room in another person’s house.  I only had the vaguest of ideas where any of my stuff was.  That was on my list of things to do, explore my own room.

I quickly unpacked everything that I may need shortly and ignored the rest.  Then I walked downstairs to be with my family for the first time in months.  I walked down the stairs and into the living and paused.  There were no seats open.  The couch had my dad laying on it and stretched out with the dog at his feet.  With his sickness, he’s been laying down a lot more than I can ever remember.  The two recliners were occupied by my mom and my younger brother, she was sewing and he was playing on his new laptop.  On the loveseat was my older brother and on the seat beside him was all of his stuff.  He was also on his laptop.  None of them noticed me enter or offered me a seat.  The only place to sit was the floor unless I moved someone or something.  I moved my brother’s stuff while he gave a longsuffering look.  The next day was the same story.  And the next.  And the next.  They had gotten used to not having me and found it hard to make room for me again before I was gone.

Narrative Poem from Jessica's Story:

I’m home again.

I’ve been away from this place for so long it seems,

I dropped my stuff on my bed,
it almost didn’t feel like mine though,

it’d been so long since I slept there.

In fact, nothing in the room felt like it was mine.

Looking around, it was much cleaner than it had ever been

while I was living here.

I convinced myself that it wasn’t my room,

that it belonged to someone else

After unpacking what I thought I’d need right away

I ignored the rest and I went downstairs.

My family was all there,

this was the first time we were all together in months.

As I walked into the living room, I looked for a place to sit,

but there wasn’t anywhere open.

Dad was laying on the couch with the dog,

he’s been laying down more now because of his sickness

than I can ever remember before.

Mom and my younger brother both sat in the recliners:

she was sewing and he was playing on his laptop.

The loveseat was also occupied,

My older brother was using his laptop,

all of his stuff sitting beside him.

I stood there staring at everyone,

no one offered me a seat

no one had even noticed I came in.

The days to follow were the same;

they had become used to me being gone

and didn’t know what to do when I was back,

making room for me had become a chore.

Time came for me to leave

and things

still

hadn’t

changed.

My Narrative Story:

A trip to a football game: the Bills vs. the Patriots to be exact. It’s in Orchard Park at Ralph Wilson stadium, home of the Buffalo Bills approximately two hours from Houghton College. On campus, there isn’t much to do on the weekends unless there are scheduled events which aren’t too often. Two Patriots fans spontaneously decide to go to the game. Not able to purchase tickets ahead of time they just drove to the stadium hoping to be able to get tickets from a scalper or some other method. With roughly $50 each, they set out on their mission. Walking into the stadium just before kick-off, they had achieved their goal and ever more. They had tickets to the game, jerseys, free parking, but little to money left over for food/drink. That day was quite embarrassing for them as Patriots fans as they walked out of the stadium, game over, Patriots had lost in the final minutes to the Buffalo Bills; a task that hadn’t been accomplished in over 10 years. Having spent all their money at the stadium, the two fans were hungry and looking for some form of nourishment to keep them going for their two hour drive back home. Luckily for them, they knew someone who lived 20 minutes from the stadium who was willing to get a pizza and have them come over and hang out in exchange for a ride back to campus that night. Not lucky for them, the girl and her entire family were Bills fans. After getting lost on their way to the girl’s house, they finally arrived and satisfied their hunger with a large cheese and pepperoni pizza…all the while receiving endless mockery for their favorite team’s most embarrassing loss probably in the history of its franchise.

My Narrative Poem:

One of the oldest rivalries in football history:

the Buffalo Bills against the New England Patriots.

The teams first match-up took place on Buffalo’s home turf,

Ralph Wilson Stadium in Orchard Park, New York,

two hours away from Houghton College.

Weekends on campus come and go,

usually with nothing to do.

This is what caused two girls,

Patriots fans,

To spontaneously travel to the game

Unable to purchase tickets beforehand,

The girls held hopes to find tickets from a scalper

or some other sketchy method off the streets.

With only $50 on hand, they set off on their mission.

Sitting in their seats just as the ball was kicked,

The girls had accomplished their mission and more.

Tickets to the game, Wes Welker jersey’s, and free parking,

they had made off like bandits.

The clock finally wound down to 0:00,

and left them feeling as if they’d been robbed.

Game over, the final score:

Buffalo 34, New England 31.

The Patriots had lost,

a result that hadn’t happened in over 10 years.

The girls had spent all their money at the stadium.

Feeling empty, they looked for a way to feed their hunger.

Lucky for them,

they knew someone who lived 20 minutes from the stadium,

and she was willing to get a pizza for them,

in exchange for a ride back to campus that night.

Unlucky for them,

the girl and her entire family were Bills fans.

After getting lost on their way to the other girl’s house,

they finally arrived and were able to satisfy their hunger

with a large cheese and pepperoni pizza,

all the while receiving endless mockery

for their favorite team’s most embarrassing loss

probably in the history of its franchise. 

Imagist Poems (Revised)

Round and black
hexagons and pentagons
I will kick it in the net

The rain
it's always raining here
covering the ground
turning the snow brown
and making
mud

Hand of a carpenter
rough
calloused
torn
just like the pages
to last week's paper

The checkered pattern draws the eye
wondering what stories are behind each square
of the stranger's quilt

Standing tall on the court
he towers above the competition.
Wait, then jump!
He wins the toss

Forgotten blue van
with rusted bumpers
and balding tires
sits in the lot
waiting to be driven

Photos on the wall,
thousands of memories
of the friendships that will last
forever

The dog sits
awaiting anxiously
the daily arrival
of the mail man
to chase him again

Surrounding her face
were the most beautiful
black
curls
never unwavering
from their delicate position

The coats all hang
in their assigned
yet unassigned
position on the rack
looking messy

Rolling up and down the shore
the waves have no boundaries

Sitting in the corner
a girl's desire to play
the six-stringed instrument
but still it sits

A cup of coffee
rests on the desk
waiting to wake her up
and begin the day

Revealing the truth of the world,
the mirror reflects only
what it sees

Clear plastic container
I've used you so many times
I don't remember
what you originally
contained

Descriptive Paragraph and Poem

Depending on the time of day, Big Al’s Grille can be a bustling place full of people, food, and laughter or just another place on campus that no one seems to know existed. Late at night it tends to be the campus hang out, especially with the addition of three new televisions, including one that is 70 inches! There are many tables as well as booths and even a bar with high chairs. Typically speaking, couples occupy the booths, usually watching some sort of video on a laptop while clusters of friends often enjoy food from Big Al’s around a table laughing and talking loudly at the same time. The tables and chairs both show signs of years of use and abuse but still serve their purposes well and are therefore not replaced. The corner booth is a hot item, almost always in use no matter how large the population in the room. Also the new light fixtures over the booths add a decorative touch that goes well with the paint scheme and gives the place a rustic, almost retro feel.

Like a colony of ants after their hill has been kicked

Like a pasture after the cows have been brought in

Big Al’s can be bustling full of people and laughter

Or it can be silent and make you wonder why here you have gathered

Late nights tend to be when the crowd always forms

Maybe because of the new televisions, popular shows it adorns

Tables and booths, chairs and benches

There’s even a bar where you can do your homework for French class

Typically speaking the booths are for closeness

The couples are always there the looking atrocious

And the friends join around the square tables for four

But always there is made room for more

Looking around at the furniture collected

It all shows signs of the many years it’s been neglected

Still serving its purpose well

I’m sure for much longer, here it will dwell

The corner booth, finally finished

Is a hot item for sure

Whether alone or with a friend

It’s always the cure

And the new lights look retro indeed

They look like they were taken from a junk yard with speed

Poetry Skills Exercise: Rewriting "The Pine Barrens"

Task One:

The Pine Barrens once had their own particular witch.

Pineys put salt over their doors to discourage visits from the Witch of the Pines,

Peggy Clevenger.

It was known that she could turn herself into a rabbit,

For a dog was once seen chasing a rabbit and the rabbit jumped through the window of a house and there-in the same instant, in the window-stood

Peggy Clevenger.

On another occasion, a man saw a lizard and tried killing it by crushing it with a large rock.

When the rock hit the lizard, the lizard disappeared and

Peggy Clevenger

Materialized on the spot and smacked the man in the face.

Clevenger is a Hessian name; Peggy had lived in Pasadena, another of the now vanished towns, about five miles east of Mt. Misery.

It was said that she had a stocking full of gold.

Her remains were found one morning in the smoking ruins of her cabin, but there was no trace of the gold

Task Two:

The Pine Barrens had a witch

Her name was Peggy Clevenger

Salt was used by Pineys

In order for visits to discourage her

A rabbit, and lizard though different they may be

Both were forms of Peggy Clevenger

Who was said to live east of Mt. Misery

The rumors were she had a stocking of gold

But when her remains were found one day

It was found to be just a story told

Task One:

We had come to a clearing where thousands of blue-berry bushes grew

In the center of it was the packing house-a small, low building with open and screenless windows on all sides

In front of it was a school bus marked “Farm Labor Transport.”

The driver stood beside his bus; he was a tall and amiable-looking man, with bare feet, he wore green trousers and a T-shirt

The end of the working day had come.

Pickers were swarming around a pump-old women, middle-aged men, a young girl; a line was waiting to use an outhouse near the pump.

Inside the packing house, berries half an inch thick were rolling up a portable conveyor belt and, eventually, into pint boxes

Charlie’s sister was packing the boxes; Charlie’s daughter-in-law was putting cellophane over them and Charlie’s son Jim was supervising the operation.

Charlie picked up a pint box in which berries were mounded high, and he told me with disgust that some supermarket chains knock off these mounds of extra berries and put them in new boxes, getting three or four extra pints per twelve-box tray.

At one window, pickers were turning in tickets of various colors, and they were given cash in return

One picker, who appeared to be at least in his sixties, tapped Charlie on the arm and showed him a thick packet of tickets held together with a rubber band.

“I found these,” the man said. “They must have fallen out of your son’s pockets.” He gave the packet to Charlie, who thanked him and counted the tickets.

Charlie said, “These tickets are worth seventy-five dollars.”

Task Two:

The packing house stood in the clearing,

Sticking out against the thousands of blueberries that grew all around

A small building that would soon come to the life with the ending of the day

When the pickers brought back their blue treasures from the ground

“Farm Labor Transport” marked the side of an awaiting bus

It’s driver standing guard nearby

His wait would be long as the pickers unload their days work

And for the outhouse and pump stood in line

Inside the house, berries were everywhere

They were on conveyor belts, in boxes, rolled then packed

In disgust Charlie tells me what sometimes happens at markets

The mounds get knocked off and in extra boxes to gain more profit stashed

A family business or so it seemed

Charlie’s sister packed the boxes, his daughter-in-law then followed with cellophane

And Charlie’s son Jim was deemed

To supervise the operation

To determine one’s wage,

Tickets were given

At the end of the day

You would receive your provision

One lone picker approached Charlie with care,

He handed Charlie a wad of tickets “I found these,” he declared

Thanking the man, the tickets he counted

“These tickets were worth seventy-five dollars” he amounted