Poetry Revision

Why do you always say I’m sorry?

Because I fear the words locked inside my chest;
The key hidden among the piles of things unsaid
That continues to build and build
Until I can no longer carry it on my shoulders,
Nor tie it with a rope and drag it across the endless, scorching, desert which
Separates me from you.

Because as I look up at the massive load
That left my body weak,
Mouth dry.
It is just another reminder of this anger,
This fear, this anxiety that follows me
Like the shadow I am unable to escape.
It is a monument of my failure.

Because I like to pretend more than I like to just be.
I’d rather stick on a smile with some super-glue
Prick my mouth with botox needles,
than let you see me frown.

Because sometimes dry sand tastes better
Than an honesty pie-
Whose insides bubble with the elixir brewed in the words that
Cannot escape,
Will not escape
my mouth.

Because I cannot find a language which could communicate my words.
English-
Too simple, too easily combated.
Spanish-
Too foreign, too hard for even me to understand.
Apologies are the same in any language.

Because I am not quick with words that spew from your mouth
Like the sparks from a Three-alarm fire
which burn my eyes and blind me to the sad figure
Staring back in the mirror.

Because you can silence me,
But I have learned to silence myself-
A talent that I’ve found comes easily
Too easily
Even for those who drudge across the desert carrying
A pile of words.

Add comment April 18, 2008

Poetry Packet Response

“God Says Yes to Me”

I find this poem quite out of the ordinary for the simple reason that the speaker is referring to God as a woman.  I find that really interesting and it immediately made me wonder why the poet chose to do this.  I enjoy that this poem plays out like dialogue, and I liked how this dialogue gave voice to female concerns or “melodrama.”  This poem gives the female perspective towards issues as simple as nail polish and allows the female God to act as a motherly figure rather than this supreme power that is meant to be honored, yet feared at the same time.

“The Death of Santa Claus”

I like how the poet utilized enjambment.  It made the poem seem like one flash in the mind of a child (the speaker).  I think this is a poem of experience.  As the poem opens the reader can infer that this child is at that age when he starting to enter reality.  He does not believe in Santa Claus, and the death of Santa Claus symbolically represents the loss of his innocence.  At the end of the poem it is hinted that the speaker is about to get some horrible news, which in the end is what truly made this speaker grow up and realize that Santa Claus was dead.

“From On Being Fired Again”

I really enjoyed the humerous, somewhat sarcastic tone of this poem.  I feel like the speaker of this poem is one of those people who are trying to find their place in the world without being stuck to any type of job.  I like how she introduces all her bosses, all of which are males, and even tells the reader that she was sleeping with one of them.  It shows how she cannot escape bad decisions and how “unmotivated” she is to find something substantial.  I like the line about the “perversity of freedom which never signs/ a rent check or explains anything to one’s family.”  It personifies freedom and shows how freedom does not come without responsibility.

1 comment April 13, 2008

This is a love poem for…

This is a love poem for the cracked sidewalks

splintered pathways safe from the bustling roads now deemed dangerous.

The one-way streets that result in mad men behind the wheel

squeezing the steering wheel trying to find the road to their destiny.

The sight of breath on those endless cold winter mornings.

So cold that bodies are covered from head to toe in down feathers and wool frocks.

For Icey streets that are like black rivers frozen over,

Roommates with lost remotes peering out their windows at a city come alive at night,

Children playing basketball on cool spring afternoons in the park.

The same park where a group of gang members beat up a man,

now a safe haven for the innocent games of a community.

For an independance found admist a capital overlooked.

It may not be a Big Apple,

but it is a city nonetheless.

For the CTA carrying the fates of people just trying to make it there.

They may not know where there is,

they may continue to ride and ride until they have spent an eternity on this bus

that like a boomerang always comes back to its original destination,

but this city is full of endless oppurtunities

full of a faith that cannot be described to you better than 

a thruway that must be driven on

that just keeps going

keeping us all moving.

2 comments April 10, 2008

The Kitchen Shears Speak

I really enjoyed reading this poem.  I especially liked how the shears acted as a symbol of the opressive nature of a domesticated life.  I feel as though the shears predominantly symbolized the plight of the female gender.  Women, like the shears, are “forced” to carry out domestic activities merely because of gender roles.  I found that the image of the chicken was both gruesome and extremely important to the meaning of the piece.  The shears, women, are forced to carry out certain activities, sometimes that are grotesque, merely because the hand that controls them, men, are making them do so.  Women “work and never tell” the male dominator that they are unhappy becuase women are taught to be submissive.  Like the shears women in bad situations have “no voice no legs.”  Women cannot stand up for themselves, they have no one who can hear their voice.  Simultaneouslly, they are prisoners whose legs cannot carry them out of their situation.  Futhermore, I loved when Balk talked about how the shears rust and become fossilized.  I feel as though many women can relate to this age awareness.  As men age they are able to disregard their old shears, woman, and find a fresh pair.  However, they still keep their old sheers around, keep them immobile, fossilized, in order to carry out the dirty work that is not fit for a man.

Add comment April 7, 2008

The Practice of Creative Writing

I feel like this text has changed my entire perspective surrounding text books.  Usually when I read a text book it is a pretty difficult feat; however, with Sellers’ text, this is not the case. Sellers does not talk down to the reader.  Rather than making long whinded, incomprehensible statements, Sellers offers a personable tone surrounding the topic of creative writing.  As a reader, her informal approach makes me want to read on, and rather than falling asleep before I can turn the page, I am able to grasp each concept. 

I especially enjoyed chapter three of the text which centered on “Energy.”  I like how on page 77, under the practice section, Sellers tells us to rank the words for energy.  I feel like she is emphasizing how important even a single word is in a piece of writing.  I never realized how much one word could change the feel of an entire idea.  I find it extremely exciting to be able to play with words in order to relay a message.

Everything I read in this text has been beneficial in some way.  I especially took a lot out of the section about images.  I never realized that images were so essential to every genre of writing.  I found that by reading Sellers’ ideas concerning images I was able to expand my use of them in my memoir piece, as well as in my fiction work.  I really enjoy creating images from memory, and putting into words flashes of time that are especially essential to me.

Add comment April 6, 2008

Poetry 180

<a href=”http://www.loc.gov/poetry/180/044.ht
“Man I knew”
I feel as though this poem is as sad as it appears on the screen. In a way this man’s life is as puny and minuscule as these seven lines of poetry. You can’t help but to feel the sorrow and notice the insignificance of this man’s being. This man is essentially alone, besides for the maid that comes every other week. His kids do not visit, for some reason that can only be interpreted in the mind, and they are like boats in a vast ocean. It is almost as if the man, the subject of the poem, is essentially stuck to the land, unable to reach his children, the boats, as they sail past him. When the poet writes, “they are on the dresser,” she is referring to most-likely a picture of the children that will forever remain the same; however, this man cannot communicate through this object. He cannot and will not be able to reach his children.

Add comment April 1, 2008