Reading Response: Before I Die By Jenny Downham

After starting this book, I’m beginning to put my life in perspective to others’. My small problems seem smaller compared to those of the main character in Before I Die, Tessa. She suffered from a fatal type of cancer since she was 12 years old; it’s been 4 years and she’s not the same person she used to be. It’s different now because she knows she doesn’t have much time left. Knowing death is coming, Tessa has this unshakeable feeling of desperation to experience anything and everything all at once no matter who she hurts.

You’d think in an awful situation like Tessa’s, having a loving friend and a supportive family would be most vital to her, surprisingly it isn’t. It is obvious Tessa adores her family especially her brother Cal and she couldn’t live her best friend Zoey. However, these feelings of love are hidden by other, stronger feelings. Tessa rebels against her parents, speaks rudely to her friends, and struggles to make all of their lives difficult. She puts on this act especially for her father. For example, after weeks of lying in bed Tessa generates a fight out of thin air. “ ‘Well, you’re always acting as if everything I do is wrong.’ He struggles to sit up. ‘I don’t!’ Yeah, do. It’s like I’m not dying properly…’ Dad leans on his elbows to look at me. He looks as if I hit him. ‘Don’t go. Where are you going?’ ‘Away from you.’ “(45)

Not only does Tessa feel the need to hurt the people she loves, injuring innocent strangers seems to satisfy her as well. “ I start with assault, shove my elbow hard into a woman’s back as I get on the bus. She spins round, crazy-eyed.” (119). These random acts of hate seem to be what’s keeping Tessa from falling apart. You see, as I continued reading, I’ve begun to slowly understand her. Being in her condition for so long, her unhappiness has created a wanting of pain on those lucky enough to be healthy. That’s why Tessa undergoes these impulses to create anger and chaos; she wants to feel like she isn’t the only one who is hurting; she wants to know she isn’t the only one dying.

Now, at 16 years old, Tessa isn’t even concerned about destroying herself. She silently leaves home to go to clubs and drink and try drugs; afterwards she sleeps for days. She has this idea that she’s already felt pain and devastation so now nothing can harm her. Tessa is in a trance that seems to be unbreakable. She has a carefree and daring attitude that can only lead to more trouble and complications in her life. Though she takes it to the extreme, I can see where Tessa is coming from. I’ve never had an experience anywhere close to her terrible one, yet because I’m young, I also feel invincible. I know it’s a naïve mindset but I can’t help it. Tessa’s crazy way of rebelling helps her cope with all of the thoughts of dread inside; Feeling unbeatable is just a distraction

When you’re sick like Tessa, you begin to find the simple things less important; simple things like a bad hair day or a failed class at school, things normal teenagers would get upset by. But as time goes on and Tessa lets her mind slip, even the important things like having a family and friends to love you are insignificant. This not-caring attitude will lead to a cycle for Tessa and if it continues, nothing will matter to her and she’ll lose control of her thoughts and actions. Tessa needs to wake up and appreciate what she has before it’s gone; before she realizes it’s too late to make up for her mistake; before she dies alone. 

The Outsiders Coming of Age Reading Response

As a teenager, it’s easy to let thoughts of being invincible take over your life. You begin to feel as if nothing can harm you physically or mentally. But if an enormous, life-changing experience occurs, children and teenagers are forced out of ignorant and naïve mind sets, swiftly thrown into reality. In the story The Outsiders by S.E. Hinton, the main character Ponyboy faces a perilous situation and from it he learns to be more aware of the world; he becomes more mature about the way he handles situations and his life in general.

            As you grow up, it’s natural to act differently than you used to. Some may find themselves speaking with correct grammar or sitting up tall in a chair. Either way, as an adult, usually you have a new and changed attitude towards life. After his incident in which he saves lives and loses some, Ponyboy is a different person. For example, one night, Two-Bit–a friend of Ponyboy’s– takes him out for a soda when a gang of Socs strolls in. Instead of avoiding the trouble like he would have a few weeks ago, Ponyboy speaks straight up to the group standing in front of him. He says, “ ‘You get back in that car or you’ll get split.’ ” (171). For the first time, Ponyboy stood up for himself and his “family” of greasers. This is something he could not have done if he hadn’t been changed by his experience.

            When you’ve really gotten older, things can suddenly change and the world around you may look unlike it did before. You should begin to learn more about the world, sometimes a little more than you’re ready for. Ponyboy learned these things fast, too fast. After his new best friend Johnny passes away, realizations of our vicious and unrewarding world hit him hard. This new weight causes Ponyboy to become extremely depressed to the point where he can’t eat or sleep and even the one thing he’s known best for in his group of greasers–excellent grades–have been slipping. It seems everything that has happened was too overwhelming and he couldn’t seem to cope. Obviously the past event and new, brutal knowledge has greatly affected him.

            Although these recent complications in Ponyboy’s life have changed him in some awful ways, he also has opened his eyes and tried to put himself in others’ shoes, especially his brother Darry. With Darry, Ponyboy has never had the same connection he does with the other greasers. I can feel the tension when they speak to each other not to mention the constant conflict. But after his life changing adventure, Ponyboy looked at his situation differently. He realized that Darry has put so much into keeping his already dysfunctional family together. He’s sacrificed college and sports and gave it his all to ensure that nothing falls apart. In the text, Ponyboy slowly ponders this new revelation. “Darry looked real worried. I suddenly realized …  he had given up a lot for Soda and me.” (176). At this moment, Ponyboy has officially made the transition into basic adulthood; he has thought about someone other than himself.

            So I suppose I’m not quite there yet. I haven’t experienced something that could potentially change my entire world and life. Although I don’t mean to, I often put myself before others but for now, I think that’s all right. Ponyboy was forced into his changes and realizations. I’d rather ease into it slowly so I don’t face some of the terrible side affects Ponyboy did. Either way, as you grow older, yes, the world seems different. But, you can’t let setbacks stop you or harm you, not if you’re strong.

           

Writing Prompt 6- Rebellion

so it’s that time again

I don't know what overtakes me

but,

 the weak can't resist.

it makes a sloppy decision
one we always come to regret

it's not all my fault okay?

what am I doing?

before we all know it,

the world is spinning 

and we look at each other like

we know it's wrong

for some reason it never stops us.

maybe it's that rush or that being stupid

is the same as being young 

in a perfect world

we do what we want and 

can't get hurt

can't get caught 

can't think

and you're back in the morning 

fine.

okay.

until someone whispers

"again"

Coming of Age Prompt 14

What are some questions and concerns you have about growing up and adulthood?

As an adult, am I going to be expected to do everything right?
I know as a teenager, I've been told this is my time to make mistakes and learn from them. I've been told it's better to make them now when they don't really mean anything. Well I'm worried that I'll make huge mistakes in the future; I know myself and it sounds like something I would do. Will I be frowned upon because I've made a mistake as an adult? Are people going to expect me to be perfect?

Will the choices I make now affect my life in the future?
Also, as a teenager, I am frequently spoken to about the future. Maybe, where I'll go to college, the major financial debt I'll be in after college, or how exactly I'm going to choose the right career. Honestly, I would rather not think about the complications and unfortunate situations that are going to come along as an adult. But it seems I have no choice because I'm told that what I choose now – my high school, my extra curricular activities, even the social class I associate myself with – will lead to what my life will look like later. That seems like a lot of pressure; too much actually.

Some other questions I have are:

• Is choosing a career supposed to be easy? I mean, are you supposed to know in your heart you're going to be a singer or a lawyer? Are you supposed to have some sort of a connection to a specific job?
• How will more freedom over the years affect my mind and life? Will I make better choices with more freedom? If I'm giving more freedom now, will I make wiser choices in the future?

Coming of Age Responses

Childhood- My Gmail Account

Starting when I was 7 years old, I desperately wanted to be a grown up. I felt like one, I basically acted like one­ – very mature is what my parents called it. But it wasn’t enough for me. It annoyed me that people didn’t look at me the way I wanted them too. I didn’t get the privileges and things my older friends did, I couldn’t go out by myself. I was a child I had just started hating it.

So, when I convinced my parents to let me create a Gmail account the summer before 3^rd grade, I was ecstatic. This was a big step for me; I was given the permission to chat and send emails to my friends and family, whoever. I could customize my account and truly make it mine.  And for a second, I felt like an adult; I stood a little bit taller.  Although I knew no one would see me differently because of it, I saw myself differently. I now had proof that I was older at heart.

            Now I know this must sound like this is a coming of age moment – I realized something and I changed in some way. Though this moment –Gmail– really represented and defined most of my childhood. See, I never really thought of myself as “little” and when these opportunities for me to get a hold of proof came along, I gladly took them; in this case, my email account.

But even though I honestly believed I was growing up at 7 years old, obviously, I wasn’t. I wish I had known that because for a long time, the back of my mind was filled with thoughts of waiting and wanting to become older and wiser and cooler than I was at that moment. So when I discovered Gmail, it made me feel all of those things and I loved it.  I know it’s ridiculous to think that a website could affect me so greatly but it did and that’s why it’s the best artifact I could think of to symbolize one of the most important parts of my childhood.

Coming of Age- my iPod

I’ve never felt like I’ve needed to escape

That is until now

I’ve never needed so much to forget

Some unfortunate incidents

Even only for a few beautiful minutes

If that’s what being older brings

I regret wanting it so deeply

I did, didn’t I?

I wanted it more than anything.

Now I’m there

And the freedom’s great

I can do anything and I love it

But there are complications,

Always complications.

A feeling I can’t seem to shake

So,

I blast my iPod until I can’t hear

Anything

Until my senses are numb

and the song is my soundtrack and

I pretend for a while

that everything about the world

is perfect.

I turn the volume up because I now know

That it isn’t.

That’s really

Growing

up

Final Revised Reading Response–The Starry Night

If a poem could so closely represent a painting, it would be this poem and the painting “The Starry Night”. I can't tell if Anne Sexton wrote this as herself in a state of desperation and depression or as Van Gogh during his time of anguish; either way I’m beginning to interpret what she's trying to get out, though it's somewhat hidden. As I’ve compared Anne Sexton’s poem and Van Gogh’s painting, I have noticed many deeper levels of their work and similarities between the two.

            Like anything, Anne Sexton’s poem has two sides. The poet uses harsh and aggressive words and phrases such as “orange irons” (line 8) and “The town is silent. The night boils with eleven star/… an old unseen serpent swallows up the stars” (lines 4 and 10) to describe her feelings yet what she is describing appears peaceful and quiet and beautiful. Some words stood out more than others such as “irons, boils, and swallows.” She cleverly uses these beautiful words while hiding anger within. With each stanza in this poem, the reader learns a bit more about the poet and what exactly the poet is trying to say.

           I’ve realized art can be interpreted the same way. Each time look at a painting, you can better understand the painter’s purpose and ideas. Van Gogh’s painting “The Starry Night” is also beautiful yet filled with anger and depression. When looked at from a far, a person might see swirls of colors that appeal to the eye, however when looked at more closely, a person may notice the darkness of the shadows and the wind.

These abundant similarities make me wonder how different Anne Sexton and Van Gogh really are. Both are incredibly deep and they seem to think the same way. They recognize how stunning and dazzling the world is, the sound of the wind, the glow of the stars. Yet they want to leave and throw away their sadness and weight. It seems Anne Sexton would like to leave the world based on this quote from her poem “I want to die:/ into that rushing beast of the night” (lines 12 and 13). Maybe the many black colors used in Van Gogh’s painting represent death or depression.

From this experience of comparing art and literature, I’ve learned that the two genres fit together. Anne Sexton’s “The Starry Night” and Van Gogh’s share similar themes and ideas and from this I can expect the poet and the artist are not so different from each other; their work has depth to it and this is important. It makes it possible for a reader or an observer to gain something from their interpretation; the deeper levels can change the way they look at things and help them in the long run. 

Revised Reading Response to the Starry Night By Anne Sexton

If a poem could so closely represent a painting, it would be this and The Starry Night. I can't tell if Anne wrote this as herself in a state of desperation and depression or as Van Gogh during his time of anguish, either way I seem to understand what she's trying to get out, though it's somewhat hidden. It took me a while.

            Like anything, this poem has two sides. The poet uses harsh and aggressive words to describe her feelings yet what she is describing appears peaceful and quiet and beautiful. The town is silent. The night boils with eleven stars… an old unseen serpent swallows up the stars; beautiful words just bursting with rage.

            If you think about it, the painting is beautiful yet filled with anger and depression, which makes me wonder how different Anne and Van Gogh really are. Both are incredibly deep and they seem to think the same way. They recognize how stunning and dazzling the world is, the sound of the wind, the glow of the stars. Yet they want to leave and throw away their sadness and weight. So here I am thinking I completely understand.

However, because Van Gogh and Anne are both so thoughtful, it’s not that easy. Is it ever though? Their actual messages and intentions are so hidden they may be impossible to find.

And although I’ve come to realize that everything is never as it seems in literature and art; I find it doesn’t matter. The interpretations and conclusions I’ve come to are enough to help me in life. They’re enough to change the way I look at things.

           

            I’ve never really appreciated art. I’ve looked at art through one eye; I’ve looked at it as a display. I can see through both eyes now and it’s been crazy awakening. Art means something. So thank you Van Gogh, thank you Anne Sexton. Thank you.

Reading Response to Certain Girls

I’m finally nearing the end of Certain Girls by Jennifer Weiner. It’s the type of book I like to call “real”. I really don’t understand exactly how the author did it, but she captured both the perspectives of the over protective mother and the teenage daughter and I know this is incredibly different because the thoughts and ideas of a mother to a daughter are such opposites. It’s real because when I read I can feel myself there and that’s something I haven’t experienced with a book in a long while. It’s nice.

            Life is twisted; this is one thing Certain Girls makes obvious. Joy, the teenager and Cannie, the mother, have a somewhat normal relationship with each other for their ages. They argue a lot and they disagree and Joy does things without Cannie’s permission particularly because she knows it will upset her. Cannie feels helpless. Like I said; normal.

But their lives, their history is far from average. Cannie’s past is filled with confusion and worry and hate which she vents in her book Big Girls Don’t Cry. She tells about how rough her childhood had been, with a terribly unkind father and a clueless mother. She tells of how she was always put down; every idea. Then she writes of her new boyfriend Bruce and how an unexpected pregnancy at a young age would potentially ruin her life. She didn’t want Joy; she never wanted Joy. And knowing this, Joy’s hatred toward her mother grew stronger.

            I can’t say I can completely connect to Joy’s situation, no, not to that extent. I don’t have some sob story about how I was a mistake or how horribly I ruined my mother’s life. But I can relate. I feel myself agreeing when Joy describes her thoughts not just about Cannie, but about everything, her whole world.

 Though, I don’t want to. I don’t want to be that teenager with the mood swings, or that daughter that argues a lot, or that girl so desperate for attention. I don’t have a hard life. I have things pretty great at home, I live in a house close to my school with a functional family, I have everything. So why do I feel like this? Many stereotypes exist about teens and I don’t want to admit that most of them are true.

That’s why this book was so important. I get it now, okay, I’m not always right and as Joy began to realize this, so did I. I don’t think adolescences should mean disobedient and secretive and untrustworthy all though we may want it to be. Really, we need this for our futures. Young and stupid, that's what they say.  So now I’ve got to stop, it’ll be hard. 

Three Great Blogs

Truly, I think everyone's blogs are pretty fantastic though if I did have to choose some of my favorites, they would probably be (in no particular order) Lena's, Ana's and Fiona's blogs.

Lena's blog has a very creative and unique look to it. She used her own pictures and quotes to decorate her blog and make it a little more personal. Actually, the more I read through, I'm noticing most of her writing is especially personal, at least her poems are. She writes about her many interesting experiences. I can tell she puts a lot of work into everything. I think one of the best posts up on her blog, though all of them are really good, is her poem response to the painting "Heat". It has so much emotion and depth to it. It flows and she used words that just made it all work. I love it and her blog and her! Great Job Lena!

I also really loved Ana's blog mostly because I can hear her voice and see her personality in all of the writing she posts. It never fails. Sometimes she puts parentheses in her writing to get across something she wanted to make sure the reader understood and that's when I'm like, yup that's Ana, right there. Not to mention her writing is so thought provoking and full of ideas I would have never thought of before. Everything she does is super creative and very well written that I look forward to what she puts up next. I like that fact that she makes her own rules on her blog, her own style, and that's something I'd really like to try to add to my own blog as well. Nice Job Ana!!

And last but not least, I liked Fiona's blog a lot! I've found that everything written on it is really insightful and beautiful like it could professional work or something. Her responses always touch on many important ideas and they always leave the reader wondering- she creates tons of questions and wonders about a lot in her responses which make them especially intriguing. Her sonnet is definitely one of my favorite poems she has written although all of them are so deep and thoughtful. I just thought her sonnet was so deep and amazing and used so much advanced and Shakespearean vocabulary that it reminded me of one of Shakespeare's poems. It can be interpreted in many different ways and it all just flows. Everything Fiona writes flows and that's one of the things I admire most about her blog. Awesome Job! 

Sonnet

Crossing between I dream to stay with them

Found in dark place but here I’m not alone

All acts of hate and fear are soon condemned

Without a shadow’s grim face weeping shown

And here I don’t pretend to all the sea

So not controlled nor puppet on a string

A sky so bright it makes me glad to be

They jump they fly they swoop, the birds, they sing

It’s now this hour of peace I think of most

When dawn begins to break and calm’s no more

I hope to glide that glory boat to coast

Though not to reach the sounds that lie ashore

My wish is filled with passion and great love

To stay with what’s below and found above. 

Poetry Forward

Life is only what it is because of the different ways we interpret it. And these interpretations come from somewhere hidden or not; our unique minds. They come from our experiences and what we decide to absorb from them. Thus becomes poetry. We write what we know and what we’ve felt. This is the exact opposite to what I have done here with these poems. I have not known what it’s like at war. I have not felt the wonder and sadness of losing someone. No, I’ve never even held a gun. But in this case I used other knowledge; experiences from others that I’ve learned and heard. I felt this was important and I needed to get some specific messages across. I’m not breaking the rules because poetry has none.

            War meant something different a long time ago. It used to mean fighting for freedom, fighting for rights. But it’s not the same now.

I’ve been aware and noticed that wars occur since a very young age. My Dad was quick to teach me about peace and how it’s his dream to see it throughout the world. I learned war was very very different from peace. I learned that it caused pain and death worse than any I could imagine. Yet as I grew older and I began to see two sides to everything, I wondered what war’s other side was; to protect our country? Were we ever really in danger from the place we were attacking? Older and older and now I just don’t know. It’s so complicated and intriguing, which is why I had to write about, I had to share.

            So I suppose you could say I did write what I know. I wrote from many sides, I wrote as them and for them. I can’t say I’m 100% accurate; of course I am not these people but after years of learning, struggling to comprehend, I feel I’m close because like me, they are confused and worried and scared for the future.  

"Please Don't Take My Air Jordans" Reg E. Gains Response

One thing I seek in a poem is uniqueness; this poem is certainly unique. I admire the obvious use of poetic license; words are all over the place and misspelled and abbreviated. Reg E. Gains captured the character so well it was hard to believe that the poem wasn’t about him; that it wasn’t about a specific moment he’s experienced in his life. This time he wrote to the struggling kids. He showed them that he understands; the poem showed them better than any other form of communication. He wrote in their language.

            I find the one character in this poem especially interesting. He seems pretty average at first. Like all the rest, he wants to fit in with his crowd. He wants to be “seen rather than heard” and that’s strange to me. I know what it’s like to be frantic and a little obsessed with being like everyone else. But, I have self-control. I positively convinced that knowing yourself and liking whom that person is, matters thousands of times more than the way others see you and know you.

            Yet this character, whoever he is, thinks the opposite and I think I know why. After a while of obsessing over the clothes and possessions others have, you find yourself slowly slipping away; you find yourself wondering who you see in the mirror every night. And when you’re totally gone, no more slipping, just gone, you end up doing something sickening and wrong like shooting and killing and innocent person for what they have on their feet. But the worst part is, you won’t even feel regret or unease or doubt in the morning. His impulse decision to shoot for what he wanted explains how weak the character really is, how easily he’ll give up and give in. He lets objects define him and he knows it: his “gear”.

            So I think the author so cleverly crafted this poem to get the young and desperate readers to recognize what they can’t let happen to themselves. He’s trying to get them to realize that they can’t fall so under that they’d kill for something they don’t even need. The urge should not get to a point where you know longer have control. You can’t lose yourself.

            But the scary thing is, people do every second, every minute, of everyday. Each day a gun fires. 

Narrative Poem with Rhyme:

We Have Conversations With Our Selves

I stepped out the door

of that blinding, silver jet

kiss perfection goodbye,

welcome regret

I only wanted their praise

Make them proud, feel supported

I wanted their tender hearts

I’m so sorry very sorry family your lives were aborted

It’s so puzzling

And uncomfortably quiet out here

We shiver silently by night

On our toes when dawn’s near

I often question myself

Wonder why I enlisted

To have sanity ripped harshly

My reality set drifted

I see killings

And killings and deaths of my friends

If there’s one thing I’ve learned

Don’t make friends, now pretend

Pretend that you’re not thinking

God, what if I’m choosen next

Though, leave my body and my troubles

Sore, the sky’s mine, perplexed

But that would mean leaving them

It’s against my morals

I’ll stay alive, 'cause I love them

It can't be a death quarrel

Now I’m certain,

For sure

Don't worry, no debate

No light in the tunnel, no open gate 

Poem About an Incident: Shoot

They left me in the rain

miles,

but minutes away

and I felt that wave

that rush:

fear.

I moved gracefully, floated to the window’s ledge

I watched as their shadows grew small

until all was still

and the streetlamp flickered.

But, They came, They ruined it

I thought they’d continue past me

I sat frozen

even my eyes quivered

They walked with a revolver,

sneer on their faces

their faces said hate

and I knew they weren’t leaving

I was right

The chimes jangled as they walked through the door

and here’s were it really blurs

I remember hiding,

shaking

from the steel in their hands

and that feeling of having no body

no one to save me.

panic

I blinked and I was gone

home,

real home.

It wasn’t real

not real

but I couldn’t help the shivering.

Poem Response to The Scream

The sky is bloody

And here I am

Shadows shake and I shriek.

Yet behind, just out of reach 

Serenity

That only darkness follows

So I can never win

No one wins. Ever.

Some look at me funny like I’m

Particularly eccentric.

But they don’t know what I do

They can’t recognize truth

When it’s staring them directly in the face.

Believe it.

Try.

Look over the balcony

Further.

Yes, past your egotistical troubles

Your hazy mind

Gradually take in what you see

Calmly now.

And see it.

Dark

You may wonder why I screech

Why I yell

Why I scream

Don’t wonder longer.

It is this. What you see.

I am frightened.

You should be too. 

Response to The Starry Night By Anne Sexton

If a poem could so closely represent a painting, it would be this and The Starry Night. I can't tell if Anne wrote this as herself in a state of desperation and depression or as Van Gogh during his time of anguish, either way I seem to understand what she's trying to get out, though it's somewhat hidden. It took me a while.

            Like anything, this poem has two sides. The poet uses harsh and aggressive words to describe her feelings yet what she is describing appears peaceful and quiet and beautiful. The town is silent. The night boils with eleven stars… an old unseen serpent swallows up the stars; beautiful words just bursting with rage.

            If you think about it, the painting is beautiful yet filled with anger and depression, which makes me wonder how different Anne and Van Gogh really are. Both are incredibly deep and they seem to think the same way. They recognize how stunning and dazzling the world is, the sound of the wind, the glow of the stars. Yet they want to leave and throw away their sadness and weight. Anne’s poem reminded me of a suicide note. I wasn’t shocked to later find out she committed suicide. They’re not so different at all, really.

            So maybe suicide was their only way to get what they truly, ever wanted, freedom and beauty.

           

See that’s what happens when you dig a little deeper, you find yourself coming to a major realization and you know what they’re saying. You get the poet or the painter or the writer. You get it and you get them.

Of course we all think differently, our interpretations could be completely wrong. But I don’t think it really matters because after coming to this realization, you may realize something about yourself and knowing yourself is more important than anything. 

Observations and Interpretations of Art

 The Scream, Painter: Edvard Munch

Observations: The colors blend together to make the back of the painting look soft, almost one. The lakes or water are painted with many different colors. It’s somewhat hard to tell the lake from the ground. You can make out small gondolas it the far back of the painting. The sky uses vibrant colors (orange, red). The sky looks a bit like waves; you cans see the brush strokes. In the middle of the back of the painting, there is what looks like a shadow of a man. The screaming man looks abnormal, bald, squiggle shaped. He looks a bit like an alien. In the far left of the painting there is a “normal” man wearing a suit. Boardwalk is also a few different colors, has some white mixed in. The screaming man is looking to the left.

Inferences: The blending colors shows beauty or simplicity. The many different colors in the bodies of water show how different the parts of the world can be. The orange/red wavy sky represents more beauty but calmness especially with the gondolas in the lake next to it. The harsh brush strokes represent how the world is seen in different ways and the world has imperfections. The man represents the outsider, the person who is different and shows it and the other humans behind represent our “normal society”. The shadow might represent darkness in the peaceful world.

Interpretation: I’ve been observing this painting for a little more than an hour now and I’m beginning to realize that it isn’t simply a picture of a man screaming; I think it represents the world and its many forms. I think it shows how outsiders are portrayed: as aliens like the screaming man in this picture. The outsider’s features are different, like their clothing, and their actions. This alien man is how society looks at people who are diverse. As for the other part of the painting, the beautiful colors blended to make shades show how peaceful the world can be if we let it.  But there is always a dark patch; something preventing us from achieving our goals; the shadow. It’s small, almost hidden; if you glanced you would not see it, but it’s there, always.

What Is Poetry?

A poem is a rainbow

because a poem is different 

Different like colorful

Different like us

We've got stories to tell

Poems are those stories

Whether you realize or not

Experience is a poem

"Write What You Know"

How can you not,

really

Our universe is complex

Like a poem

A meadow is simple 

So is a poem

A poem, a reader works hard to decode

A poem, the poet understands with ease

Sometimes it's hard to describe, 

with the world full of unique perspectives and all

I do my best.