Adam

final thought:Poetry can be fun to act out but can be boring of just reading it on stage.

why you chose this poem  - what the poem is about  - some important / interesting / amusing ideas in the poem  - the mood or atmosphere of the poem  - words or phrases you find interesting  - questions it makes you think of  - your overall judgement of the poem

4/1/2010

I think poetry can be boring sometimes but can be interesting if its talks about a specific subject like nature or snow or even pollution and it uses big words that I sometimes don't understand.

6/1/2010 same as above

10/1/2010 limbo:The poems is a bit confusing but its subject is very interesting because its about slavery and the place between heaven and hell all in one poem.

27/1/11 poetry is interesting and has many different forms but uses bid words.

__**humorous poems**__

5/1/10 found in a bathtub, partially filled.
 * =//**A Crime Scene**// = ||
 * **by Albert Van Hoogmoed** ||
 * || There's been a murder, a woman was killed,
 * || There's been a murder, a woman was killed,

A pair of policemen went into the house and questioned the poor woman's spouse.

He'd just come home from working all night and found her like that, a terrible sight.

The younger policeman looked on with dismay. He'd never forget that terrible day.

He saw the young woman from behind the door and empty milk cartons all over the floor,

Scattered strawberries, slices of fruit, and spoonfuls of sugar and honey to boot.

Who could have done this terrible thing? His voice had a horrified, pitiful ring.

Just look at the clues, replied Sargeant Miller. It looks like the work of a cereal killer. ||  || This poem doesn't seem humorous but has great creativity.

5/1/10 when I was twenty-three, I got married to a widow who was a pretty as could be.
 * =//**I Am My Own Grandpa**// = ||
 * **by Moe Jaffe and Dwight Latham** ||
 * || Many, many years ago
 * || Many, many years ago

This widow had a grown-up daughter who had hair of red. My father fell in love with her, and soon the two were wed.

This made my dad my son-in-law and change my very life. My daughter was my mother, for she was my father's wife.

To complicate the matters worse, although it brought me joy, I soon became the father of a bouncing baby boy.

My little baby then became a brother-in-law to dad. And so became by uncle, though it made me very sad.

For if he was my uncle, then that also made him brother To the widow's grown up daughter who, of course, was my step-mother

Father's wife then had a son, who kept them on the run. And he became my grandson, for he was my daughter's son.

My wife is now my mother's mother and it makes me blue, Because, although she is my wife, she's my grandma too.

If my wife is my grandmother, then I am her grandchild And every time I think of it, it simply drives me wild.

For now I have become the strangest case you ever saw, As the husband of my grandmother, I am my own grandpa! ||  || The poem is about a man father marry his daughter and turns into his on in law then uncle and his daughter is his mother and grandmother. The poem is very confusing and it takes time to understand. Most people will only understand have of the poem because its so complicated The questions I though was if marrying your granddaughter was legal and when did it take place.Like this poem because part of it seems like it doesn't make sense but it actually does if you read s couple of times.

__haiku poems__

Ah! a thousand flames, a fire, The light, a shadow! The sun is following me. **by Paul Eluard**

I choose this because it was very easy to understand

Football ** Li **** ke medieval knights ** ** Armor clad, in fields battle ** ** To reap victory **  by Udiah

The poem describes football in medieval times

__limerick poems__

//There was an old man with a beard// Who said, "it’s just how I feared! Two owls and a hen Four larks and a wren Have all built their nests in my beard. - Anonymous this poems is very common and very easy to understand

There was an Old Person of Cadiz, Who was always polite to all ladies; But in handing his daughter, He fell into the water, Which drowned that Old Person of Cadiz. by Edward Lear this poem is about s gentleman that fell into the water

__Sonnet poems__

|| God the result of imagination Or God the Lord over all creation With supernatural abilities
 * || **Decision** ||  ||
 * ||  || There are only two possibilities

Considering the liabilities The former, a finite observation The latter, spirit rejuvenation With its infinite capabilities

Choosing the former one has to reason What's wanted is some final solution An end to it all with no life ahead I choose the latter for a new season Trusting in God as my resolution Gaining promised eternal life instead

Udiah || the poem tells of which kind of god are there. All matter just came into existence Forward progression is its solution Reoccurrence only happens by chance
 * || **Happenstance** ||  ||   ||
 * ||  || Happenstance, the cry of evolution

Are the laws of the universe constant? Or do they change like the thoughts of one's mind Only existing 'til nature's recant Awaiting some great event to unwind?

Don't the same processes come to repeat? Then, where are those missing links that once were? Would not Divine intervention complete The many variables that occur?

Vanity to believe just happenstance Believing in God is the circumstance. ||  || __Rap__

 man
The rap tells the guy in stress and wants to die

__Cataylsm__ What makes us human?

Is it out ability to create or our ability to destroy? <span style="color: #303030; font-family: Verdana,Arial; font-size: 13px; line-height: normal;"> To whom much is given, much is expected.

<span style="color: #303030; font-family: Verdana,Arial; font-size: 13px; line-height: normal;"> To trust the corrupt is to swallow the toxins. <span style="color: #303030; font-family: Verdana,Arial; font-size: 13px; line-height: normal;"> We're scarred with sickening fables.

<span style="color: #303030; font-family: Verdana,Arial; font-size: 13px; line-height: normal;"> Please don't take the lives of every man with an idea. <span style="color: #303030; font-family: Verdana,Arial; font-size: 13px; line-height: normal;"> Everything with meaning is smoldering. <span style="color: #303030; font-family: Verdana,Arial; font-size: 13px; line-height: normal;"> Pleading to the dead will not save us. <span style="color: #303030; font-family: Verdana,Arial; font-size: 13px; line-height: normal;"> Two billion people can be wrong. <span style="color: #303030; font-family: Verdana,Arial; font-size: 13px; line-height: normal;"> This way of life is outdated.

<span style="color: #303030; font-family: Verdana,Arial; font-size: 13px; line-height: normal;"> We are the unarmed truth and we fight for the unconditional love, <span style="color: #303030; font-family: Verdana,Arial; font-size: 13px; line-height: normal;"> For the final word in reality and it makes you think.

<span style="color: #303030; font-family: Verdana,Arial; font-size: 13px; line-height: normal;"> We set the stage, <span style="color: #303030; font-family: Verdana,Arial; font-size: 13px; line-height: normal;"> We pull the strings, <span style="color: #303030; font-family: Verdana,Arial; font-size: 13px; line-height: normal;"> Yet, we're in a world left heartless. <span style="color: #303030; font-family: Verdana,Arial; font-size: 13px; line-height: normal;"> We live alone, <span style="color: #303030; font-family: Verdana,Arial; font-size: 13px; line-height: normal;"> We hold our ground, <span style="color: #303030; font-family: Verdana,Arial; font-size: 13px; line-height: normal;"> Yet, we're in a room left artless.

the poem tells about what make us humans

<span style="color: #303030; font-family: Verdana,Arial; font-size: 13px; line-height: normal;"> Because we're in need of a designer future, a holocaust of the norm.
 * L **<span style="color: #303030; font-family: Verdana,Arial; font-size: 13px; line-height: normal;">ets wrap our roots around a new beginning,

<span style="color: #303030; font-family: Verdana,Arial; font-size: 13px; line-height: normal;"> Sobriety is needed upon the desolate. <span style="color: #303030; font-family: Verdana,Arial; font-size: 13px; line-height: normal;"> The country's nose is bleeding as we take another hit. <span style="color: #303030; font-family: Verdana,Arial; font-size: 13px; line-height: normal;"> Social stratification is becoming bottom heavy. <span style="color: #303030; font-family: Verdana,Arial; font-size: 13px; line-height: normal;"> Stirring our minds with delirious allegories won't cure past mistakes.

<span style="color: #303030; font-family: Verdana,Arial; font-size: 13px; line-height: normal;"> We are the unarmed truth and we fight for the unconditional love, <span style="color: #303030; font-family: Verdana,Arial; font-size: 13px; line-height: normal;"> For the final word in reality and it makes you think.

<span style="color: #303030; font-family: Verdana,Arial; font-size: 13px; line-height: normal;"> We set the stage, <span style="color: #303030; font-family: Verdana,Arial; font-size: 13px; line-height: normal;"> We pull the strings, <span style="color: #303030; font-family: Verdana,Arial; font-size: 13px; line-height: normal;"> Yet, we're in a world left heartless. <span style="color: #303030; font-family: Verdana,Arial; font-size: 13px; line-height: normal;"> We live alone, <span style="color: #303030; font-family: Verdana,Arial; font-size: 13px; line-height: normal;"> We hold our ground, <span style="color: #303030; font-family: Verdana,Arial; font-size: 13px; line-height: normal;"> Yet, we're in a room left artless.

<span style="color: #303030; font-family: Verdana,Arial; font-size: 13px; line-height: normal;"> Lets wrap our roots around a new beginning, <span style="color: #303030; font-family: Verdana,Arial; font-size: 13px; line-height: normal;"> Because we're in need of a designer future, a holocaust of the norm.

The poem tells of a new beginning to make better world.

__Calligram poems__



the poem takes the word man and laughter ro make new words



The poem tells os a guy trying to pull the sword out of the stone.

__Ballad poems__


 * || **ballad of the black slave** ||  || || ||

Who has been beaten and disgraced, Who has been called the n-word and negro, Who has received no pay. This is the ballad of the black slave, Who prays for freedom every night, Who is going to rebel, For what he thinks is right. Now this is the ballad of the freed slave, Who has seen much blood shed, Who has fought for equal rights, And who has won his freedom. || this poems about a black guy being a slave
 * ||  || This is the ballad of the black slave,
 * ||  || This is the ballad of the black slave,

<span style="border-collapse: separate; font-family: arial,helvetica,sans-serif; line-height: 19px;">__<span style="border-collapse: separate; color: #333333; font-family: Arial; font-size: 20px; line-height: normal;">By michael issac palmer __

stone, came a mournful Ballad, of life gone by.
 * || **I Hear Voices...** ||  ||   ||
 * ||  || And from the graves, where names were carved in

A Ballad sang by mothers, whose children left behind, and left to sing their ballads, of tears that did remain.

And what of Fathers Ballad, whose job was not complete, who died and sang his song, of things that could not be.

In a smaller voices, still weeping and confused, the children sang their Ballad, of parents never knew.

And in some far off place, a Ballad did come fourth, of all the deaths that happened, that wasn't meant to be.

A soldiers painful Ballad, did seemed so unjust, of the war that finally killed him, in a land he never knew.

The Ballad, of unknown, thou human, none the less, were buried here alone, with not a one to care.

In the quiet of a cemetery morn, the Ballad of the dead, echoes silently across green grass, and through the granite stones.

It makes one wonder, about the Ballad of the dead, and what will be our song...when we are finally gone.

© Joe Fazio ||  || This poem is about how a guy dies

__Free Verse__

My last night as a full-time child I didn't want to sleep, for fear of __ Waking up in a rustle of too-crisp sheets __ __ And a creak of inadequate bedsprings __ __ With a lightly snoring virtual stranger eight feet away. __ __ And also I didn't want it to be tomorrow, __ __ Because then it would be time to do what __ __ I've denied for three weeks of subsistence __ __ And oblivion--ignoring is bliss. __ __ And I saw everything I never did __ __ Lying around me, pieces and steps of the __ __ Success I never got, reminders that __ __ Whatever I planned, I never got far. __ __ But in the middle of these broken promises __ __ To myself, I could see for the first time __ __ That I have not been broken. __ __ And I must keep myself, all that is real, __ __ As daybreak does, and nightfall. __ __ I exist to others, but all I need is me. __ __ I will be the last promise, when all is said __ __ And kept. __

__ Copyright © 1996 by Katherine Foreman. __ A boy that breaks all its promises and keeps only one last promise

Connotation
Friends Means sharing, bittersweet A brand name of love. It is a tie for all time, Longer than the shadows we forget Yet shorter and better than life, or for some longer, Stronger. It balances you, with a pole in One hand and a rope in the other, you choose what to use it for. It is forever.

Friends Remembers everything anyone ever felt, Holds it in a cubbyhole somewhere for next time When it is spoken or thought, from kindergarten Elation to maturing despair. No friend is ever Alone in action or reaction, left Without a silent commiserating presence of Invisible brick, a personal wailing wall For those who need its strength And stability.

Friends Is a loaded word and pointed. It limbos out from Under walls, vaults barricades, threads mazes To erect cellophane boundaries of its own. It lets you see what could lie beyond But that you gave up When you spoke its name.

this poem is about friendship and remembering things from school

Copyright © 1996 by Katherine Foreman.

__Cinquain poems__

The poem tells the silent things in the winter and of a dead person
 * TRIAD**
 * These be**
 * Three silent things:**
 * The falling snow... the hour**
 * Before the dawn... the mouth of one**
 * Just dead.**


 * <span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman',Times,arial; font-size: 19px; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;">Tree **
 * <span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman',Times,arial; font-size: 19px; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;"> Sturdy, Tall **
 * <span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman',Times,arial; font-size: 19px; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;"> Climbing, swinging, playing **
 * <span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman',Times,arial; font-size: 19px; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;"> Fun among the branches **
 * <span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman',Times,arial; font-size: 19px; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;"> Maple **


 * people playing in the trees in the branches.**

__Adam poem__

The tree was big standing tall with all it glories It could hold out any storm But a hurricane passed the tree fell into the river

media type="file" key="Audio Recording 8.mov" width="300" height="300"

Poetry can be about anything you want to write about Or it can be written from different people Endlessly poetry can be They may be interesting or boring it doesn't matter Really confusing they may be Yet they are interesting

The supermarket

When I go to the supermarket the knife of the butcher slashes on the soundless chickens a person drops a milk cartoon with a splash. An old person splat his eggs on the floor. Cling goes the scanner And ratatata goes the trolley. Adam