Free Verse Poem

I Have News for You
by Tony Hoagland
There are people who do not see a broken playground swing as a symbol of ruined childhood and there are people who don't interpret the behavior of a fly in a motel room as a mocking representation of their thought process. There are people who don't walk past an empty swimming pool and think about past pleasures unrecoverable and then stand there blocking the sidewalk for other pedestrians. I have read about a town somewhere in California where human beings do not send their sinuous feeder roots deep into the potting soil of others' emotional lives as if they were greedy six-year-olds sucking the last half-inch of milkshake up through a noisy straw; and other persons in the Midwest who can kiss without debating the imperialist baggage of heterosexuality. Do you see that creamy, lemon-yellow moon? There are some people, unlike me and you, who do not yearn after fame or love or quantities of money as                 unattainable as that moon; thus, they do not later                         have to waste more time defaming the object of their former ardor. Or consequently run and crucify themselves in some solitary midnight Starbucks Golgotha. I have news for you— there are people who get up in the morning and cross a room and open a window to let the sweet breeze in and let it touch them all over their faces and bodies.

Color Collective Poem--Blushing Bride

Blushing Bride—Benjamin Moore-2086-40

By Maria Alvarez

She stands

French manicured fingers

Turning

The clear cut,

 Cold, rock

A white, white dress

Around her

Uncorrupt…

It seems

Beautiful

Innocent

Outside doors

Open, close

Footsteps

Waiting,

Expectant

Love?

She wonders…

Allowing herself

To doubt

Just for

A heartbeat

She’ll be careful

The laughs,

Dinners,

Walks

Yes…

She loves

Choppy,

Brown hair,

White, skin

Beautiful:

Shaggy,

Dirty-Blonde hair

Tan…

Tan skin

Hazel, hazel eyes

She slips

He comes back

The Other

His eyes reading

Her’s…

His arms,

His hands

Serene

No

He cannot stay

He…

Cannot be

He…

He, is gone

Taken

Never to be seen

Or heard, or

Remembered

Pushes,

She does,

Him back,

Away,

In to limbo,

Lost

Hands touch hers

Place them

On someone’s arm,

They walk

The organs chimes,

Bittersweet

A march

Of life

Or death

Doors open,

Eyes rise

Her’s eluded

From behind the

Soft, smoggy veil

Two brown, brown

Eyes look back

She takes the plunge

 Fearless…

Life or death

 For More Color Collective Poems go to Middle Minds

Where I am From

I am from movies, from Coca-Cola, and Act-II

I am from the waxed hardwood floors

 (Run-down, slippery

 Perfect to run on)

I am from the berry bush and the gardenias

Whose bitter, bitter taste

 Of losing the bet I will never forget

I am from hot chocolate every afternoon and white hairs, from

Vitos and Marias

I am from the readers and the realists

From you’re driving me crazy and tienes que esforzarte mas

I am from church, if grandma visits this year.

                        Pray before you leave the house, never do,

                        Dios the ampare

                        And Abuelita give me your blessing.

I’m from Quito, Ecuador mountains protecting the city, and

 Every other place

I have picked something from,

To be part of my patchwork childhood

From pasta and locro

Always reminding me of my blood line

From the ship my great grandfather travelled on,

To New York and then down

The cardboard box my cousin used to shove us in

Whenever she got bored

I am from airports,

(They make me feel so at home)

From the safety video

  I know so well

I am from the carved wooden chest in Abuelita’s

Living room

With yellowing photo albums, and a new picture always ready to be found

From the 50’s to the 80’s, all before I stood

Old newspaper clippings, half-familiar faces staring back at me

I am from those faces, waiting to be recognized –

I don’t know them, but I do—

Faraway but stuck together.

For more where I am from poems got to Middle Minds

Perfectly Imperfect, Sanely Insane

Description:

Love is rugged, broken, imperfect and insane. Its flaws are what make it beautiful. In these poems the poet captures love in all its imperfection and madness.

Synopsis:

Poems that show the flawed and unhinged perfection of love

My mistress' eyes are nothing like the sun (Sonnet 130) By William Shakespeare Flawed Love: Somewhere I have Never Travelled, Gladly Beyond By E.E. Cummings  I'm not Yours By Sara Teasdale No, Love is Not Dead By Robert Desnos How Do I Love Thee? (Sonnet 43) By Elizabeth Barret Browning As I Walked Out One Evening By W.H Auden When You Are Old By W.B Yeats The White Rose By John Boyle O'Relly She Walks in Beauty By George Gordon Byron The Look By Sara Teasdale Love is More Thicker that Forget By E.E Cummings I Have Dreamed of You so Much By Robert Desnos Fairy Tale By Robert Desnos To Earthward By Robert Frost To a Stranger By Walt Whitman

Watch Out! HE's got Skittles!

Supposedly the United States’s days of racial injustice and prejudice are long gone. Supposedly no one is distraught when someone Muslim or Arabic sits on an airplane next to them; no woman clutches her purse tighter when an African American male comes in to the elevator; no one demeans a Hispanic when he or she becomes their coworker. Supposedly everyone is colorblind. But what does it say about all of these thoughts when a man shoots and kills an African American child just because he felt threatened by his race and his attire.

            On February 26, seventeen-year-old Trayvon Martin was walking down the street on his way home from a convenience store when he was shot and killed by self appointed neighborhood watchman: George Zimmerman. 28-year-old, Zimmerman has still not been convicted for his atrocious actions; Florida’s Stand Your Ground law protects him. The law enables all gun owners to use their weapon for self-defense in any public place—George Zimmerman states that Trayvon attacked him; therefore, he was forced to shoot. Before the murder Zimmerman called 911 and reported a subject with suspicious behavior, as he was chasing him: the 911 officer told him to stop his persecution. The police officers of Sanford, Florida have agree with Zimmerman; even though, they could have let a judge decide whether he did they right thing they are completely confident with their decision of keeping him free. However forensics have determined that Trayvon Martin was attacked from the back. The teenager’s parents are outraged by the state’s decision. Martin is also known to have been carrying only a bottle of iced tea and a bag of Skittles. So did Zimmerman feel threatened by the colorful candy or did he prejudge the boy because of his race?

            Zimmerman’s prejudice towards African Americans caused him to take the life of the innocent.

             “The teenager's race was enough to raise "suspicion" and trigger the neighborhood watchman - who possessed no training or authority, except for his racist prerogatives - to murder an unarmed and frightened teenager running for his life.” Trayvon Martin: The myth of US post-racialism

            This quote states concisely how Zimmerman’s prejudice lead to injustice. George Zimmerman is a man full of prejudice; consequently, he felt threatened by an innocent African American boy walking down the street with candy in his hand. Mr. Zimmerman did not even look at what Trayvon Martin was carrying in his hands he only saw the color of his skin. This case shows how prejudice can become so big and so strong in people’s heads that it leads them to commit abhorrent crimes. Some people’s ignorance is leading to grief and suffering for the innocent citizens.

            People in New York have rallied up and conducted a peaceful march named the “Million Hoodie March” for Trayvon Martin. The protesters are doing this to push for Zimmerman’s arrest, to protect the innocent boy who died. But is it their responsibility? I don’t know. What I do know is that it is their responsibility to stand up for what they believe in, to stand up for justice. Justice defends the innocent. Zimmerman was wrong when doing what he did and now people are trying to fix his mistake in the only way that is possible after Martin’s death. People are standing up for what they think is right and just and fair; that is their true responsibility.

            It is human nature to fear the unknown. We shy away from what is different and taboo to us. When we meet new people we are not completely ourselves until we know that person well enough to judge that they are safe. But a lot of times people don’t make the time to get to know others before they judge them: they make a quick scan a use the things they have heard about people that look similar to make a first opinion. People fear what they do not master—they fear the odd uneasiness that comes with stepping out of your comfort zone; consequently, people create different prejudices in order to feel confident and secure; in order to think that they know what is going to happen; in order to stay in their comfort zones and feel like they master the world. Zimmerman did just that he lived by the stereotypes he had created in his head with the help of the rest of the world; he did not like the feeling of uncertainty you get when faced with the unknown; however, this does not justify his actions.

            Death always makes you wonder what would have happened if one of the variables in the story changed, on of the most basic variables. What if he was a girl? Would women clutch their purse tighter if an African American woman came in to the elevator; would Zimmerman have shot Trayvon if he was seventeen-year-old girl walking down the street? And the answer is probably not, because gender stereotypes are the biggest of them all: they are the stereotypes we all have one way or another because it is what we have been taught since we where kids and our parents read us fairy tales. When people say the word rapist you don’t think of a woman you think of a man; when people say tough and strong a girl is not what pops in to mind. We all have this perfect guy and perfect girl in our heads. We all think of girls as soft and pretty and nice; we all think of guys as strong and rough and hard. Gender stereotypes influence how people act in a huge way. At the word criminal a man’s mug shot is what you see, so is you see a “scary looking” person walking down the street it is probably a man. If Trayvon Martin was a girl George Zimmerman would have probably stopped to look at the Skittles and iced tea in her hand and would have marked her as harmless; rather than, juvenile delinquent.

            The United States boasts on its freedom of prejudice, on its tolerance for all races, and its lack of discrimination. But the truth is everyone has some sort of stereotype in their mind; it could be just one or it could be many but it is still there in the back of their mind when they meet a person that looks like he or she might fit into their stereotype.

           

            

Chapter 8, To Kill a Mockingbird WW lesson 6

Bizarre things where happening in Maycomb. I’ll tell you that. The autumn had turned into winter - a very cold winter-- the coldest winter since 1885.

Ole, Mrs. Radley died that winter too--of which we interrogated Atticus about--and the next day; it snowed for the first time since 1885. Mr. Avery said that in the Rosetta Stone it was written that when children disobey their parents and make war on each other season's changed. His comment made all of these events conspire against Scout and I; all of this was our fault.

The morning of the first snowfall I wake up to Scout's screams. She had not apprehended the fact that it was snowing, and thought the world was ending. There was dissention in my mind over whether this was a good thing or a bad thing: It would seem like it was our fault it snowed, but it was snow after all.

Short time elapsed before Scout and I were outside trying to build a snowman with the little snow we had. I meticulously sculpted the figure out of dirt and then covered it in snow. I made it took exactly like Mr. Avery

The day passed by quickly and we all went to sleep. Only to wake up a few a hours later to calamity. Miss Maudie's house had caught on fire. The three of us got out of the house; and Scout and I waited in front of the Radley place as the neighborhood evolved in to anarchy. The flames grew large and started to creep slowly to Miss Crawford's house. While men went in and out of Miss Maudie’s trying to save they could. Our snowman melted from the sweltering heat, and we soon looked up to find Mr. Avery across the upstairs porch, shackled to the roof by the flames. Assimilating the fact that he was going to burn otherwise he jumped down off the house.

The house came down as the firemen threw water on it. Everything was lost.

As we went back inside the house Atticus noticed a blanket draped around Scout's shoulders. We could not fathom who had put it there but I have feeling it was Boo Radley. The events of these past few days have been unusual but I am pretty sure, more bizarre occurrences are imminent in Maycomb.... I hope I am wrong.

Secret Life of Bees Letter

Dear Zach,

            How are you? Sorry for not writing these past few weeks but time elapses so quickly whenever I visit August, June, and “July”. The nights and days go by so fast as we sit in the front porch drinking ice tea in order to cool down from the sweltering heat. As soon as I arrived they all started to interrogate me about our engagement - I’ve missed them a lot.

            Everybody is ok, your mother is great and getting better from the flu she had last week; the rest of the daughters are as fit as a fiddle - everyone here says hello. Lunelle has made me the most outlandish – but simply fabulous – of hats for the wedding. It will be great. Everything is ready for the big day to take place, the decorations have been meticulously made and flowers have been ordered – all we need now is for the groom to get here - I lionize all the daughters for getting everything together in such short time. All is conspiring for us to have an amazing wedding.

Who would have thought we would get married right here in Tiburon – when we met we couldn’t even go inside stores together. I am so glad times have changed, and people have become tolerant. There was such anarchy back then – I can still not apprehend how anyone could think so wrong.

Two days ago I received a phone call about T-Ray. I don’t know how they got my number or how they knew I was in town. The bizarre phone call came with terrible news; T-Ray has passed away. He died during a drunken bar fight, apparently some sort of dissension – people got violent. Five men were injured and there were two casualties. The men involved in the calamity will be arraigned next month. It is so hard to assimilate he fact that the man that shackled me to misery for so many years is dead. I feel such sorrow – even though he was never really a father to me, I guess deep inside I cared. It is horrible that this has happened with our wedding day so imminently approaching.

I can’t wait for you get to Tiburon, and for us to finally get married. Right back as soon as you get this.

Love,

Lily Mellissa Owens

The Problem We All Live With- Artwork Analysis

The Problem We All Live With created by Norman Rockwell in the early sixties depicts the image of an African-American girl, Ruby Bridges, walking to her new school on the first day of desegregation of the New Orleans’ public schools; November 14, 1964.

The painting shows a six-year-old Ruby Bridges, escorted by four white U. S Marshals. On the far top-left corner of the painting you can see the Ku Klux Klan initials carved on the background wall and the word “nigger” graffitied on the wall, right over Bridges. There is also a smashed tomato that has been thrown at Bridges on the lower right corner of the wall. The U.S Marshalls’ heads have been cropped of the image, maybe to show that the main focus of the painting is Ruby; who is depicted with her head held high and looking forward almost seeming oblivious to the protesters.

The painting really captures almost everything that was going on that day in a very subtle manner. The over all image makes you think about how brave Ruby Bridges really was and what a big step this was for the United States. While the details make you grasp how big some people’s anger was toward this event.

Norman Rockwell was known for capturing scenes of the everyday life. In this painting you can clearly se that his intention was to depict the whole situation like it was but to focus on the “main character”. In the image he captures the emotions of the people around Bridges by zooming in on her and focusing on the details.

The artwork is full of rich textures and details. The colors are bright and strong but the painting in general is a bit opaque, making the artwork even more interesting. You can clearly see the difference in size between Bridges and the Marshalls, them being thick and so tall that their heads do not fit in the image while Bridges is painted thin, small, and refined as is to magnify the fact that she is a little girl.

Travel Journal-2012

          This new year's eve was great. My family and I spent it with some of our closest friends.
This year we did a "testamento" which is an Ecuadorian tradition where the old year leaves different things to each person, usually referring to something funny that has happened to that person that year. The person chosen to read it dresses up like and old man or woman.
           This year we also threw fireworks and me and my cousin ran around the block with suitcases, doing this supposedly makes you travel that year. After twelve o'clock we ate paella and danced.

HAPPY NEW YEAR !!!!

Travel Journal-Manolo Caracol

  The other day my dad took us to this restaurant called Manolo Caracol in Casco Antiguo.  The service was great ( can you believe it Mrs. Meadows) and the food was just, to die for. And you may be asking yourself, ok, but whats so interesting about this restaurant?
        Well, here is your answer, there is no menu, the waiters just keep on giving you small portions of different dishes, which are all delicious, nine courses in total. By the end of the meal we were completely full and satisfied.

Travel Journal-A traveler's life list

      
         This year I spent my Christmas at some family friends' house we are really close to them since my parents met them when they were like fourteen (they are like uncle and aunt). We also spent our Christmas with other family friends that are also like family to us. I think its cool how even though we are all from different countries/cultures  we've known each other so long we are technically family.
           We ate (a lot), talked, called our relatives to wish them a merry Christmas, wished each other a merry Christmas, and of course exchanged gifts. One of my mom's friends  gave me a book called 1,000 Places to See Before You Die, it has all the amazing places that you NEED to see from all around the world. I love to travel and this gift was perfect for me, I want to see everything on this book.

Merry Christmas Everyone !

Travel Journal-2

       Vacations for me usually means eating, sleeping, and watching TV but this time my mom is on break too and her definition of vacation is completely different from mine. She says that vacations are not made for not doing anything so, we are now organizing every room in the entire house.

      But don't get me wrong, having my mom home with me during break is kinda fun! We' ve also gone to the mall a lot, trying to finish the christmas shopping and stuff. Surprisingly, having my mom at home with me all day has turned out to be ok (except for the cleaning part, and we are almost done with that). This, isn't exactly how I pictured the first few days of break but at least I get to sleep in.