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