Jaliza's poem Sarah Kay

I loved this poem. This is how every parent should be in my opinion, very loving and caring; always there for their child. This poem consisted of postitive and negative things, which show life in a way that I think. The things she said she would do to her daughter shows that she isn't afraid of her growing up, but wants her to do it right; and make the right decisions like her mother. She is a role model for her child, and will try to communicate with her, not on a "mom" level, but something even better for her to feel comfortable as well. Overall I loved this poem, and how Sarah performed it!

Destiny's poem Taylor Mali

I like this poem, and it's because he talks about that people need some more individuality. This is very true, because people are just becoming clones of eachother. He makes it funny which I appreciate because it makes it more enjoyable to laugh. He is very sarcastic, or maybe that is another thing he is trying to show I am not sure, but he uses alliteration and I'm pretty sure he used imagery as well as similies. Overall I enjoyed this poem, but I still know that this guy is an A-hole, so cool poem, not so cool guy.

SlamNation

So far I know see how serious the acting portion is for these poems. In my opinion, it's probably the most important aspect. My favorite person so far would have to be the Asian kid from New York. I really think this because I feel like puts his heart and soul out there for everyone to read. The poem with the guy who talking about all the different stlyles that people have to reading there poems was funny. Although, other than that i didn't find it be very good, ehh I just dont like his face. That one dark man that got a perfect score was very good as well. Let's see whats in store for todays portion of the video!

The Kraken

Below the thunders of the upper deep,
Far, far beneath in the abysmal sea,
His ancient, dreamless, uninvaded sleep
The Kraken sleepeth: faintest sunlights flee
About his shadowy sides; above him swell
Huge sponges of millennial growth and height;
And far away into the sickly light,
From many a wondrous grot and secret cell
Unnumbered and enormous polypi
Winnow with giant arms the slumbering green.
There hath he lain for ages, and will lie
Battening upon huge sea worms in his sleep,
Until the latter fire shall heat the deep;
Then once by man and angels to be seen,
In roaring he shall rise and on the surface die.

By: Lord Alfred Tennyson

Picture

Fun life, no worries
Races and hi-jinks.
Maturity, separation
Working, and education.

Stupid donkey.
Stupid picture.
Reckless adventurous childhood,
oh, how I miss it.

The Changes of a Nord

In these past few months of creative writing, and poetry, I have changed for the better. I am obviously more social, but I have always been like that when I get used to the people around me. I focus more on school at home than I used to, so I'm actually doing my homework at home now. I am overall just becoming more responsible and reliable in anything I do. Now that I have answered the question, I am upset. My dog is getting his first haircut today and I wanted to go, but nope I got to be in school. Sadface.

Dulce et Decorum Est

Bent double, like old beggars under sacks,
Knock-kneed, coughing like hags, we cursed through sludge,
Till on the haunting flares we turned our backs
And towards our distant rest began to trudge.

Men marched asleep. Many had lost their boots
But limped on, blood-shod. All went lame; all blind;
Drunk with fatigue; deaf even to the hoots
Of tired, outstripped, Five-Nines that dropped behind.

Gas! Gas! Quick, boys--An ecstasy of fumbling,
Fitting the clusy helmets just in time;
But someone still was yelling out and stumbling,
And flound'ring like a man in fire or lime ...
Dim, through the misty panes and thick green light,
As under a green sea, I saw him drowning.

In all my dreams, before my helpless sight,
He plunges at me, guttering, choking, drowning.

If in some smothering dreams you too could pace
Behind the wagon that we flung him in,
And watch the white eyes writhing in his face,
His hanging face, like a devil's sick of sin;
If you could hear, at every jolt, the blood
Come gargling from the froth-corrupted lungs,
Obscene as cancer, bitter as the cud
Of vile, incurable sores on innocent tongues,--
My friend, you would not tell with such high zest
To children ardent for some desperate glory,
The old Lie: Dulce et decorum este
Pro patria mori

by Wilfred Owen