week 8 #2 critical

The joy of writing a Sestina!

I just wanted to spend time talking about the joy of writing a sestina...(not). These are difficult to do because it requires us to incorporate six endings of the same words into a poem. But you have to do so in a way where the poem still makes sense and appeals to the reader. Talking to my other classmates I learned that sestinas are not our favorite types of poem to write. Yes listening to the poems we had in class, I feel that we did a better job at writing it than we had thought. I have a lot of respect for the people that have mastered this form. It's not easy. Poets like Elizabeth Bishop, can write this poem in way where you forget about the reputation. Like Professor Park's say in class, don't let the form of the poem take control of what you want to say. Her sentences don't feel forced. They fit in the right place. This was my problem. In the beginning it was easy to have powerful sentences. But towards the end it became more difficult to not force the sentences. My words were Queen, quotes, fruits, friends, earth, and tiger. Fruits and quotes were the hardest to work with. Queen was easy though. So many things can work with queen. My favorite line in the poem was "A real queen is 'and I quote'" I felt I that used quote in a clever way because it was an actually quote. As far as me writing another sestina.... If i don't have to I probably won't. A sestina is one of those things that you can cross off your bucket list and and be grateful that you tried it.

Week #8 free #1

Growing up I dreamed of being a queen.

Being able to call my wild untamed pet a tiger

Having every word I state being quoted.

Everyone around me wanting to be my friend

They bring me special gifts straight from the Earth,

Never Reluctantly giving me their first fruits.

What a bittersweet obligation just like a Grapefruit

The task is never ending for a Queen.

She must be quick and Fierce just like a Tiger

For she is responsible and the keeper of the earth.

Her best interest are for her people, they are her friends.

Her word must be powerful to go down in history as quotes

But a real queen is, And I quote

“ A Virtuous Women”. She bring her dreams to fruition.

She is admired by her family and friends.

A crown is not needed for her to know that she is a queen.

The cream of the fight, just like the eye of the tiger.

She is strong as the roots that grow underneath the earth

A true queen learns from previous ancestors that walked the earth

She spreads knowledge and wisdom of studied quotes

Protective over her young, just as a female Tiger.

The beauty of her soul is a refreshing as freshly squeezed fruit.

Her husband replaces her name with queen

Her royalty is views by all of her friends

So being a queen is not as easy as I thought my friend,

It’s critical that you be intoned with yourself and the earth,

For the earth will leak little secrets of how to walk as a queen.

Your like will be like one big quotation.

An essential part of everyone’s diet like fruit.

Your courage stripes you like Tiger.

The pride and strength in you could challenge a tiger’s.

Learning to love your enemies as friends,

Learning savor the meat of life fruits,

Appreciating the Gifts of the earth,

And saying words of wisdom create for quotes.

All are what make up the true essence of a queen

I am queen, with the slyness of tiger. I am the foundation for my friends. And we al reap the benefits from the earth.

Week #7 Entry #3 critical

Genus Narcissus

Faire daffadills, we weep to see / You haste away so soone.
—Herrick

The road I walked home from school
was dense with trees and shadow, creek-side,
and lit by yellow daffodils, early blossoms

bright against winter’s last gray days.
I must have known they grew wild, thought
no harm in taking them. So I did—

gathering up as many as I could hold,
then presenting them, in a jar, to my mother.
She put them on the sill, and I sat nearby,

watching light bend through the glass,
day easing into evening, proud of myself
for giving my mother some small thing.

Childish vanity. I must have seen in them
some measure of myself—the slender
stems, each blossom a head lifted up

toward praise, or bowed to meet its reflection.
Walking home those years ago, I knew nothing
of Narcissus or the daffodils’ short spring—

how they’d dry like graveside flowers, rustling
when the wind blew—a whisper, treacherous,
from the sill. Be taken with yourself,

they said to me; Die early, to my mother.

I read this poem in my 1102 class, I really enjoyed it. If your know about Greek mythology, then you know how daffodils came about. Narcissus was so intrigued with himself that he looked at himself in a pond and stayed in that one spot forever. when he died a flower grew in his spot. in this poem the little girl pick these flowers because she see herself in it. "must have seen in them some measure of myself—the slender

stems, each blossom a head lifted up." The same goes for the mother. She views herself in these flowers, but just Daffodils are also short lived plants, so she sees her death quickly approaching. I like this poem because it ties in so nicely with the rest of the collection. The next poem in the book is called graveyard where her mother has died and we see the narrator in the first stage of grief.

Week #7 Entry #2 critical

My favorite poem from Billy Collins

Moon

The moon is full tonight
an illustration for sheet music,
an image in Matthew Arnold
glimmering on the English Channel,
or a ghost over a smoldering battlefield
in one of the history plays.

It's as full as it was
in that poem by Coleridge
where he carries his year-old son
into the orchard behind the cottage
and turns the baby's face to the sky
to see for the first time
the earth's bright companion,
something amazing to make his crying seem small.

And if you wanted to follow this example,
tonight would be the night
to carry some tiny creature outside
and introduce him to the moon.

And if your house has no child,
you can always gather into your arms
the sleeping infant of yourself,
as I have done tonight,
and carry him outdoors,
all limp in his tattered blanket,
making sure to steady his lolling head
with the palm of your hand.

And while the wind ruffles the pear trees
in the corner of the orchard
and dark roses wave against a stone wall,
you can turn him on your shoulder
and walk in circles on the lawn
drunk with the light.
You can lift him up into the sky,
your eyes nearly as wide as his,
as the moon climbs high into the night.

~ Billy Collins ~

I like how the poem make a reference to the poem written by Coleridge. I researched a little to find the poem he was talking about. I took an exert from the poem.

Dear Babe, that sleepest cradled by my side,

Whose gentle breathings, heard in this deep calm,

Fill up the intersperséd vacancies

And momentary pauses of the thought !

My babe so beautiful ! it thrills my heart

With tender gladness, thus to look at thee,

And think that thou shalt learn far other lore,

And in far other scenes ! For I was reared

In the great city, pent 'mid cloisters dim,

And saw nought lovely but the sky and stars.

But thou, my babe ! shalt wander like a breeze

By lakes and sandy shores, beneath the crags

Of ancient mountain, and beneath the clouds,

Which image in their bulk both lakes and shores

And mountain crags : so shalt thou see and hear

The lovely shapes and sounds intelligible

Of that eternal language, which thy God

Utters, who from eternity doth teach

Himself in all, and all things in himself.

Great universal Teacher ! he shall mould

Thy spirit, and by giving make it ask.



Therefore all seasons shall be sweet to thee,

Whether the summer clothe the general earth

With greenness, or the redbreast sit and sing

Betwixt the tufts of snow on the bare branch

Of mossy apple-tree, while the nigh thatch

Smokes in the sun-thaw ; whether the eave-drops fall

Heard only in the trances of the blast,

Or if the secret ministry of frost

Shall hang them up in silent icicles,

Quietly shining to the quiet Moon.

He also makes a reference to Matthew Arnold, he was a English poet and also an inspector of schools. I like the tone of the Collin's poem. It has a piece within it. I love the imagery of holding a child up to the moon, it's like he wants to show them that there is a whole world out there. Its like the child's introduction to the universe. While reading this i also made a reference to the piece. In the movie "Root's", Kunta Kinte holds Kissy up to the moon, almost as if he was dedicating her back to the God. This poem makes me think of that scene I also like when collins writes "And if your house has no child, you can always gather into your arms the sleeping infant of yourself." We all should take the time and find the innocence in ourselves and remember how beautiful nature is and that we can find inspiration in it. When I read this poem I pictured myself outside. Feeling the summer breeze tickle my face as I sit on the green grass and look at the fully light moon. I could see that man holding up his little baby. And I see myself holding up the infant me. It was a great read.

Week 7 Free entry #1

Cut

A deep wound
That continues to have the scabs pulled off of it
Leaving it open with drops of blood that I try to catch

I try to protect it,
from the salt and vinegar continuously poured on top.
Excruciating pain left for me to deal with.

Time will heal it,
But it’s hard to slather time across this sore,
And without patience this medicine will only counteract.

So I bandage it up
Knowing that its not ready to be expose to others,
Because it’s susceptible for an infection.

Soon a scar will appear,
A war wound reminding me of the struggle and hurt
A sign like a rainbow to promise me to always put me first.

Sherita Bolden

week 6 (# 3)Critical

Crime Scene

Freshly Slaughtered,

even the teeth are still warm.

Only busted bones left to identify the person

She sits in the Damp Sand

Her green tunic stretched and pulled

Left to rot under the cider sky.

Piece of evidence left in her hand.

A letter beginning with, Dear Professor Sedge.

Immediately we knew we had our guy.

But even if he was caught,

we would only receive a vague confession.

Giving off no leads, to trace us to him

So here is what I see

staring at her red wolf flesh

Cold, alone, streaked with Ice.

She will forever sing a song contained,

Of the day she was tied up by her lover.

The inspiration of this poem comes from Watching a CSI show! This professor kills one of his students and leaves her in a ditch. This episode was so good... so I kind of form a poem from the view point of the Detective....

And the lines are from the list we got last week.

Here are the lines I choose :

Here's what I see

Streaked with ice

the red wolf flesh

Dented bones

to identify a character

tie up my lover

Dear professor Sedge

even warm teeth

a green tunic

a cider sky

vaguely confessional

Rhyming Exercise

This week I wanted to re do the assignment we did in class and find words that rhymes.

I chose the word Precious.

1.* Delicious

2.*Cautious

3.*Luscious

4.* Joyous

5.* Vicious

6. *Jealous

7. * Vivacious

8. Lettuce

9. Dallas

10. Tennis

11. Crisis

12. Thesis

13. porous

14. Status

15. Caucus

16. Chorus

17. Midas

18. Ruckus

19. Notice

20. Menace