It's Over
My open ear listened
to your closed-minded thoughts
and my ideas went ignored.
Unwelcome words I spoke
were shredded strands of failure.
I'm through with you.
"It's Over" is one of two poems that I consider to be "closing statements" of my Fall 2007 poetry portfolio. It was derived from a poem that I wrote last year called, called "Down, Not Out."
When I wrote the original poem, I was going through a rough time in my life where I felt like I was being manipulated, so I wrote a poem describing how I felt about the situation at the time.
However, this assignment asked for me to write a different type of piece. It was meant to be an emulation of Robert Frost's "tell it like it is" style by using simple words and "saying what you mean" in blunt statements.
I tried to keep it short and simple, in fact, "It's Over", which consists of six lines is a much simpler form of "Down, Not Out" which consisted of 11 lines.
Basically for this poem I took what I liked and kept it. I thought those lines were the most powerful, and since I couldn't find anything as powerful to end with, I used the line "I'm through with you" to end it.
I think the thing I like most about this piece is the change of the ending, which seems to coincide with the changes I have gone since I wrote that poem.
I hope you can enjoy and appreciate this piece.
Showing posts with label Poems about girls. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Poems about girls. Show all posts
Tuesday, December 11, 2007
Poem #15: Scholastic Sestina
Scholastic Sestina
In my dorm, across the hall, live two girls.
Tomorrow marks the first day of school.
I hope they are in some of my classes.
I hope this year I get some good teachers
that do not make me buy a lot of books.
My goal for this year is to get good grades.
I know I have to work hard for good grades.
I must not get distracted by these girls.
I hope my teachers do not use their books
or assign work on the first day of school.
Knowing my luck, I'll have crappy teachers
who give homework in all of my classes.
I would rather not go to my classes,
but that would lead me to getting bad grades.
I would get no sympathy from teachers,
and being dumb does not impress the girls.
I really do not want to go to school
tomorrow, or pay for expensive books.
Eventually, I'll buy my school books
and take them to all of my classes.
Now, I really do want to go to school,
because I want to get really good grades.
After classes, I will talk to the girls,
after I do work assigned by teachers.
I have homework to do, thanks to teachers.
Unfortunately I don't have my books.
Maybe I will ask one of the cute girls
even though they are not in my classes.
This year I really need to get good grades,
I cannot afford to drop out of school.
You know what, I will not drop out of school.
Maybe I will suck up to my teachers
in an attempt to get some better grades.
Or maybe I will read all of my books
and study hard for all of my classes.
Or maybe I will party with those girls.
School would be much more fun without the books,
teachers, or having to go to classes.
Grades are important, but so are the girls.
One of the most challenging poems I had to write all semester was the sestina. Sestinas consists of six six-line stanzas and a concluding tercet. All-in-all it is a 39-line poem.
In addition, when writing the sestina you use the same set of six words ends the lines of each of the six-line stanzas, but in a different order each time. Then, number the first stanza's lines 123456, then the words ending the second stanza's lines appear in the order 615243, then 364125, then 532614, then 451362, and finally 246531.
For my end lines I used "girls", "school", "classes", "teachers", "books" and "grades." I used some of my college experiences and feelings as inspiration for this piece.
I know it's long, but it is fun to read and it was fun to write.
In my dorm, across the hall, live two girls.
Tomorrow marks the first day of school.
I hope they are in some of my classes.
I hope this year I get some good teachers
that do not make me buy a lot of books.
My goal for this year is to get good grades.
I know I have to work hard for good grades.
I must not get distracted by these girls.
I hope my teachers do not use their books
or assign work on the first day of school.
Knowing my luck, I'll have crappy teachers
who give homework in all of my classes.
I would rather not go to my classes,
but that would lead me to getting bad grades.
I would get no sympathy from teachers,
and being dumb does not impress the girls.
I really do not want to go to school
tomorrow, or pay for expensive books.
Eventually, I'll buy my school books
and take them to all of my classes.
Now, I really do want to go to school,
because I want to get really good grades.
After classes, I will talk to the girls,
after I do work assigned by teachers.
I have homework to do, thanks to teachers.
Unfortunately I don't have my books.
Maybe I will ask one of the cute girls
even though they are not in my classes.
This year I really need to get good grades,
I cannot afford to drop out of school.
You know what, I will not drop out of school.
Maybe I will suck up to my teachers
in an attempt to get some better grades.
Or maybe I will read all of my books
and study hard for all of my classes.
Or maybe I will party with those girls.
School would be much more fun without the books,
teachers, or having to go to classes.
Grades are important, but so are the girls.
One of the most challenging poems I had to write all semester was the sestina. Sestinas consists of six six-line stanzas and a concluding tercet. All-in-all it is a 39-line poem.
In addition, when writing the sestina you use the same set of six words ends the lines of each of the six-line stanzas, but in a different order each time. Then, number the first stanza's lines 123456, then the words ending the second stanza's lines appear in the order 615243, then 364125, then 532614, then 451362, and finally 246531.
For my end lines I used "girls", "school", "classes", "teachers", "books" and "grades." I used some of my college experiences and feelings as inspiration for this piece.
I know it's long, but it is fun to read and it was fun to write.
Sunday, December 9, 2007
Poem #12: Foolish Princess
Foolish Princess
Behind designer frames is a woman
with a heavily make up face,
wearing an expensive dress and stilettos,
dismissing suitors with a wave of her hand.
Wanting someone rich and handsome,
refusing to settle for less.
Until the day a wrinkle appeared
and her beauty began to fade;
Her prince finally arrived
to take her hand in marriage.
At the wedding, she smiled at her groom.
Handsome as ever, he smiled back.
On their honeymoon, she noticed a change.
His teeth were suddenly long and sharp,
his smile became a nasty snarl,
and he sprouted horns and a tail.
In bed he pulled out his pitchfork, it was too late
for the princess. She married the devil.
As this semester winds down, this semester's portfolio continues to do the same. This poem is based on and inspired by a Puerto Rican folktale about a rich princess who rejects a lot of good men, and when she finally finds her special someone, he turns out to be the devil.
It sounded like something that I could turn into a poem and I did. In this piece, I really wanted to tell the story in a condensed form with some modern additions such as stilettos.
The original piece had this in two 10 line stanzas, but after revision I changed it to three six-line stanzas. (Yes, 6-6-6...though I didn't do it on purpose).
Behind designer frames is a woman
with a heavily make up face,
wearing an expensive dress and stilettos,
dismissing suitors with a wave of her hand.
Wanting someone rich and handsome,
refusing to settle for less.
Until the day a wrinkle appeared
and her beauty began to fade;
Her prince finally arrived
to take her hand in marriage.
At the wedding, she smiled at her groom.
Handsome as ever, he smiled back.
On their honeymoon, she noticed a change.
His teeth were suddenly long and sharp,
his smile became a nasty snarl,
and he sprouted horns and a tail.
In bed he pulled out his pitchfork, it was too late
for the princess. She married the devil.
As this semester winds down, this semester's portfolio continues to do the same. This poem is based on and inspired by a Puerto Rican folktale about a rich princess who rejects a lot of good men, and when she finally finds her special someone, he turns out to be the devil.
It sounded like something that I could turn into a poem and I did. In this piece, I really wanted to tell the story in a condensed form with some modern additions such as stilettos.
The original piece had this in two 10 line stanzas, but after revision I changed it to three six-line stanzas. (Yes, 6-6-6...though I didn't do it on purpose).
Wednesday, December 5, 2007
Poem #11: At The Breakfast Table
At The Breakfast Table
Corrupt politicians on TV,
wishing I could change the channel.
“Where’s the remote?”
How did Friday night turn
into Monday morning?
My phone rings—who cares
breakfast is ready.
It’s a text from my ex.
We haven’t spoken since
she did you know what,
with you know who.
She wants to reconcile.
At breakfast I reconsider
dating a cheater.
This was one of the assignments I truly enjoyed. The assignment was to take a piece of prose or a prose poem that you have written in the past and break up the poem with line breaks.
This task was quite easy, seeing that I already had a prose poem in my back pocket.
I used "Monday Morning Phone Call" as my piece to break up (no pun intended). I found it difficult, at first, to break up the prose because each word meant so much to me.
So what I did to break it up was take statements that I felt did the most for the prose poem and use those and separate them with line breaks.
I think now the poem is easier to read and is better because of the line breaks. I think the content is more clear and the points that I really wanted to jump out at the reader actually do so.
Well, at least that's what I think
Corrupt politicians on TV,
wishing I could change the channel.
“Where’s the remote?”
How did Friday night turn
into Monday morning?
My phone rings—who cares
breakfast is ready.
It’s a text from my ex.
We haven’t spoken since
she did you know what,
with you know who.
She wants to reconcile.
At breakfast I reconsider
dating a cheater.
This was one of the assignments I truly enjoyed. The assignment was to take a piece of prose or a prose poem that you have written in the past and break up the poem with line breaks.
This task was quite easy, seeing that I already had a prose poem in my back pocket.
I used "Monday Morning Phone Call" as my piece to break up (no pun intended). I found it difficult, at first, to break up the prose because each word meant so much to me.
So what I did to break it up was take statements that I felt did the most for the prose poem and use those and separate them with line breaks.
I think now the poem is easier to read and is better because of the line breaks. I think the content is more clear and the points that I really wanted to jump out at the reader actually do so.
Well, at least that's what I think
Tuesday, December 4, 2007
Poem #10: My Hate For Valentine's Day
My Hate For Valentine's Day
I hate the colors red and pink, I do.
They bring me to despise this winter day.
You ask me what is love, I have no clue.
It's one day out the year I feel this way.
Flowers and chocolates being exchanged
he spent so much, I can't believe my eyes.
I really mean it, he dropped major change,
must be the price to get between her thighs.
I do not want to hear another song
about love on my way to class.
This guy singing could not be more wrong,
whoever wrote this crap can kiss my ass!
Please excuse me, I have just one last whine:
screw you true love, I hate you Valentine!
Yes, this is a reposting of a poem I did last year. I wrote this around Valentine's Day of 2007 (as if you couldn't tell) and was inspired by the pure frustrations that come over me that time of year. There is nothing like expressing your true feelings without having to pay for a doctor.
This was written during the time of my life where every poem I wrote could be categorized under "Poems of a heartbroken college student." This year though, I've tried to expand from that.
I made a few minor changes, such as punctuation. Other than that, I have no new insight to add here.
Enjoy pure frustration and borderline depression formulated in a poem.
I hate the colors red and pink, I do.
They bring me to despise this winter day.
You ask me what is love, I have no clue.
It's one day out the year I feel this way.
Flowers and chocolates being exchanged
he spent so much, I can't believe my eyes.
I really mean it, he dropped major change,
must be the price to get between her thighs.
I do not want to hear another song
about love on my way to class.
This guy singing could not be more wrong,
whoever wrote this crap can kiss my ass!
Please excuse me, I have just one last whine:
screw you true love, I hate you Valentine!
Yes, this is a reposting of a poem I did last year. I wrote this around Valentine's Day of 2007 (as if you couldn't tell) and was inspired by the pure frustrations that come over me that time of year. There is nothing like expressing your true feelings without having to pay for a doctor.
This was written during the time of my life where every poem I wrote could be categorized under "Poems of a heartbroken college student." This year though, I've tried to expand from that.
I made a few minor changes, such as punctuation. Other than that, I have no new insight to add here.
Enjoy pure frustration and borderline depression formulated in a poem.
Monday, December 3, 2007
Poem #9: Monday Morning Phone Call
Monday Morning Phone Call
Some story on television about corrupt politicians…wishing I could change the channel…wondering where is the darn remote? Trying to piece together what happened this weekend. Not sure how Friday night turned into Monday morning. The phone rings, but I do not care. I do not take phone calls while I eat. It is a message from my ex. I found this odd, because we have not spoken…not since she did you know what, with you know who. In the message, she said some things she knew would make me smile. I think she wants to reconcile. The reason I had to leave her is because I did not want to date a cheater. And as nice as it was between her thighs, I no longer wanted to put up with her lies. I decided not to return the call.
Look, I'm posting these poems in the same order as they are in my portfolio. I'm doing in hopes that people will see my work as the story I try to portray through the order that they are in.
So it's only coincidental that I posted the "Ma's Margarita" poem on Friday and the "Monday Morning Phone Call" poem this morning.
'Phone Call' is in the form of a prose poem. And despite the fact that prose and poetry are opposites, poetry in prose form is basically poetry in paragraph form. I enjoy writing prose poetry because it is a lot like writing a short story.
When writing in traditional poetic forms, I use a lot of fragments in my work. However, in prose poetry, I generally try to use prose poetry.
If you've read my work before, you know that you have seen this piece in the past. I cut out a lot of unnecessary words and tried to tighten up the story by taking out elements of poetry that I thought took away from the poem.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: This poem is part two of "The Georgia Series," which is a series of poems revolving around a girl named 'Meg.' The series is yet to be completed.
Some story on television about corrupt politicians…wishing I could change the channel…wondering where is the darn remote? Trying to piece together what happened this weekend. Not sure how Friday night turned into Monday morning. The phone rings, but I do not care. I do not take phone calls while I eat. It is a message from my ex. I found this odd, because we have not spoken…not since she did you know what, with you know who. In the message, she said some things she knew would make me smile. I think she wants to reconcile. The reason I had to leave her is because I did not want to date a cheater. And as nice as it was between her thighs, I no longer wanted to put up with her lies. I decided not to return the call.
Look, I'm posting these poems in the same order as they are in my portfolio. I'm doing in hopes that people will see my work as the story I try to portray through the order that they are in.
So it's only coincidental that I posted the "Ma's Margarita" poem on Friday and the "Monday Morning Phone Call" poem this morning.
'Phone Call' is in the form of a prose poem. And despite the fact that prose and poetry are opposites, poetry in prose form is basically poetry in paragraph form. I enjoy writing prose poetry because it is a lot like writing a short story.
When writing in traditional poetic forms, I use a lot of fragments in my work. However, in prose poetry, I generally try to use prose poetry.
If you've read my work before, you know that you have seen this piece in the past. I cut out a lot of unnecessary words and tried to tighten up the story by taking out elements of poetry that I thought took away from the poem.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: This poem is part two of "The Georgia Series," which is a series of poems revolving around a girl named 'Meg.' The series is yet to be completed.
Sunday, December 2, 2007
Poem #8: Annemarie
Annemarie
I'll never find another you
with hair so soft and eyes so blue.
Now you're gone, I don't know what to do.
I'll never find another you.
Not knowing where you are, wishing you were here.
Knowing you made me better when you were near.
Wondering why you aren't here with me;
Guess you wanted to be free.
I no longer control you, Annemarie.
This is my rendition of a blues poem, and it was one of the more difficult assignments from this semester. I have my issues writing a blues poem because I find emulating the classic blues style and trying to capture the voice of blues poetry, so instead I try to write from one of the topics seen a lot in blues poetry, heartbreak.
This falls under the category "write what you know" and know one knows heartbreak like I do. So since I didn't capture the blues voice, I added other elements of poetry to enhance my work such as rhyme and the use of couplets and a tercet to end my poem.
In the future, I would like to work with this poem and extend it by giving more of a description of "Annemarie." Because if I can describe "Annemarie" to a better extent, then I can really capture how much of a heart breaker she really is.
Author's note: The original title and name used in this piece was "Majorie," and the poem was inspired by a character from the former ABC television show "What About Brian?" which I jokingly claimed was based off my life. Her character was the inspiration behind this piece.
I'll never find another you
with hair so soft and eyes so blue.
Now you're gone, I don't know what to do.
I'll never find another you.
Not knowing where you are, wishing you were here.
Knowing you made me better when you were near.
Wondering why you aren't here with me;
Guess you wanted to be free.
I no longer control you, Annemarie.
This is my rendition of a blues poem, and it was one of the more difficult assignments from this semester. I have my issues writing a blues poem because I find emulating the classic blues style and trying to capture the voice of blues poetry, so instead I try to write from one of the topics seen a lot in blues poetry, heartbreak.
This falls under the category "write what you know" and know one knows heartbreak like I do. So since I didn't capture the blues voice, I added other elements of poetry to enhance my work such as rhyme and the use of couplets and a tercet to end my poem.
In the future, I would like to work with this poem and extend it by giving more of a description of "Annemarie." Because if I can describe "Annemarie" to a better extent, then I can really capture how much of a heart breaker she really is.
Author's note: The original title and name used in this piece was "Majorie," and the poem was inspired by a character from the former ABC television show "What About Brian?" which I jokingly claimed was based off my life. Her character was the inspiration behind this piece.
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