Final Blog Post

I think that I have a grown a lot this semester. At the beginning of the term, I can honestly say that I had no idea what I was doing. The first poem assignment stressed me out so much that I only ended up writing a few words that had little meaning. Over the course of the semester, I have worked to incorporate magic and science into my work, as well as to "fill out the corners" of my phrases. The techniques that I have gained in this class will help me write poetry for any future class, as I feel that I have a solid foundation.

Last Blog Post

As LHSP comes to an end, it saddens me that I will probably never write poetry to this extent ever again. It has been a true pleasure being in this class surrounded by so many brilliant minds. My peers have demonstrated to me that their are so many different ways to write great poetry, rather it be Hanna's extremely intellectual poems where a dictionary has to be near, or Claire's down to earth style. Through the many poems we have read and analyzed, I have developed more of an appreciation toward the art of poetry. I feel that I grew more as a writer as well and am starting to resemble the deep analytic thoughts my high school English teacher had. After Monday's workshop, I was able to really think about what I want my own portfolio to be focused on and I tailored my poems to fit the theme. Thank you for a great semester.

Poem for 4/15

“Unpredictable”

Life’s too unpredictable,

like “bracetology” of Marchmadness.

I remember vibing to timeless jams ,

then being woken up in a sub.

Blue deep dark bellows,

seemed to fascinate this fellow,

the morning sun shined optimistically buttery.

Underground got jealous,

Killer earthquake said howdy.

Iggy stole the sound of hip-hop.

Yet she aint no rapper,

I’d rather swallow molded pasta

Before I watch her album go yellow

Somewhere in the jungle

There’s a monkey bout to rumble

Sad it won’t be a fair fight

Cuz a snake just ain’t right.

In the beginning I was king

Now I stand on my knees.

Stood tall like a God on a throne

Now helpless so I just roam.

My souls searching for a home

Grandfather always knew what to say.

Wait how did we get here?

I mean is March Madness fair?

Why damsel still in despair?

At an early age,

Grandpa lost most of his hair.

Somethings you can’t control,

When Life becomes ITunes on shuffle

From MJ to Kanye.

How does this poem

end, just like it begins

Life’s too unpredictable.

Poem for 4/15

Look at me now

Watch me annihilate the army ant,

Watch me beat the brains of the buffalo,

Watch me cuss out the cockatoo,

Watch me dream with the dolphin,

Watch me exceed the strength of an elephant,

Watch me feudalize the falcon,

Watch me grasp the neck of a giraffe,

Watch me harness the legs of the horse,

Watch me impart my wisdom on the ibis,

Watch me juggle with the jaguar,

Watch me kick the kangaroo,

Watch the lever the leopard,

Watch me mesmerize the marmalade monarch butterflies,

Watch me neglect the Nile crocodile,

Watch me ostracize the ostrich,

Watch me play with the panda,

Watch me quiver with the quail,

Watch me slaughter the snake,

Watch me torment the tarantula,

Watch me undermine the umbrella bird,

Watch me yell at the Yorkie,

Watch me zip by the zebra.

actual poem

Poem 2: To Cure a Headache

Take the hair of your closest neighbor

Without them knowing

Creeping and sulking in the background until silence returns

Put it in the dog’s bowl

Mix it with the spoon she left 

From that day at the park

The picnic with laughter and ants

Receiving the clock he made

Knock on the counter four times

Count backwards from eleven

Line up the edges and the corners 

Jump and scream when it doesn’t work

Line up the edges and the corners again

Yell and smack at your failure

Take the clock back in the picnic blanket

To the spot on the hill where she first used the spoon

Leave a trail of the hair you cut

From the bowl he calls his own

Cut your own hair

Buy your own dog bowl

Take a new blanket and spoon and clock

And suddenly night becomes day

The ache becomes numb again

Start over as needed

Poem for 4/13

To Cure a Headache 

Take the hair of your closest neighbor 

and put it in the dog's bowl

Mix it with the spoon she left 

and the clock he made you

knock on the counter four times

count backwards from eleven

Line up the edges and the corners 

Feel the pain 

Jump and scream

Then all the hurt will leave

Relaxation will come 

Poem for 4/13 Lamar (sorry for late post)

Outdated Grandpa

My grandpa didn’t want to believe,

He’d soon be outdated, when

Simply thrashing the three inch rusty nails,

With his grandfathers grandfathers initial engraved tack hammer would no longer be suffice. When the least of worries would be cross cutting the wrong colored wires of red, blue and yellow. Many of the skills he acquired by prehistoric Uncle Jack were now worth less than the two pennies he raved to rub together to provide buttermilk biscuits drenched in homemade maple syrup to feed the family of “We are Seven”.

tbh, if anything, most of his old ways are holding him back in today’s world.

He was taught to be stern, to not break or slightly bend. So he refuses to dispose that dreadful, longed antenna so called mobile device that can’t tweet, text, or tinder.

He’s the true definition of #tbt as he still thinks Facetime is yet another way for the government to spy on us. her

Grandma just forced him to get 4G and Wi-Fi so she can see her great-grandbabies more.

Grandpa still refuses to fly due to a Vietnam plane crash. He cranks up his Henry Ford signed truck, causing uproar from every environmentalist and their Facebook friends.

We’ve given up and I guess it’s ok that I know first graders who can make better prezi’s and take better selfies.

The theory has been proven,

You can’t teach an deep-rooted canine innovative tricks.