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.

Authors Note Edited

The Great Depression occurred from 1929 to 1941. It is a time period that is now called “the longest and most severe depression ever experienced by the industrialized Western world”. It brutally affected Chicago, IL. Along with this depression, the stock market crashed and worsened Americans’ confidence. One of the main causes of the Great Depression was how weak the banking system became. Banks gave out loans that were unwise, some to struggling farmers and stock market investors. When the stock market crashed, people could not repay their loans and the bank lost their money. Everything came spiraling down. During 1933, more than 24% of Americans were unemployed. (Stoff 703-705).
            Having lived during a recession myself a few years ago does not even compare to the life others had during the Depression in the 1930s and 40s. Wanda Bridgeforth currently lives in the “Black Metropolis”, an area Bronzeville in Chicago, IL. She recalls her experience. She says, “One house we lived in- there were 19 of us in a six-room apartment … [They] told me that this was the way it has to be, we either survive or we don’t.” Bridgeforth’s story was part of the inspiration for Dawn Will Break.

The other part was my connection to the Kit American Girl Doll Series. From a young age I’ve been fascinated by them. Kit lives in the time of the Depression. I used to spend the summer in my country house sipping lemonade and reading; I didn’t need the beach, I had Kit. Her audacious adventures and her bravery during hard times inspired me and she became one of my heroes.

In this story, I gave Maya Grace some of that bravery and personality that Kit contained. Dawn Will Break tells of her difficult time during the Depression but later shows her techniques for getting through it all, her biggest technique being her family’s companionship.

It’s important for children to learn how vital a loving family is so as they get older, they won’t push them away right as they need them most.

Works Cited

Stoff, Davidson Castillo. The American Nation. Upper Saddle River, New Jersey:            Prentice-Hall Inc., 2002.

“Survivors Of The Great Depression Tell Their Stories.”            http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=97468008. NPR, 2010.            Internet. Nov. 12, 2010.

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