Just Some Fave Poems

A Route of Evanescence by Emily Dickinson

A Route of Evanescence
With a revolving Wheel --
A Resonance of Emerald --
A Rush of Cochineal --
And every Blossom on the Bush
Adjusts its tumbled Head --
The mail from Tunis, probably,
An easy Morning's Ride --

This Is Just To Say by William Carlos Williams

I have eaten
the plums
that were in
the icebox

and which
you were probably
saving
for breakfast

Forgive me
they were delicious
so sweet
and so cold

anyone lived in a pretty how town by EE. Cummings

anyone lived in a pretty how town
(with up so floating many bells down)
spring summer autumn winter
he sang his didn't he danced his did

Women and men(both little and small)
cared for anyone not at all
they sowed their isn't they reaped their same
sun moon stars rain

children guessed(but only a few
and down they forgot as up they grew
autumn winter spring summer)
that noone loved him more by more

when by now and tree by leaf
she laughed his joy she cried his grief
bird by snow and stir by still
anyone's any was all to her

someones married their everyones
laughed their cryings and did their dance
(sleep wake hope and then)they
said their nevers they slept their dream

stars rain sun moon
(and only the snow can begin to explain
how children are apt to forget to remember
with up so floating many bells down)

one day anyone died i guess
(and noone stooped to kiss his face)
busy folk buried them side by side
little by little and was by was

all by all and deep by deep
and more by more they dream their sleep
noone and anyone earth by april
wish by spirit and if by yes.

Women and men(both dong and ding)
summer autumn winter spring
reaped their sowing and went their came
sun moon stars rain

Sir. Realist and I

Sir. Realist is a fine young man
though, he believes in things I do not understand.
He takes peoples hands,
gives second chances
and
worships quixotic star-crossed romances.
Never questioning a smile,
his trust runs deep.
Yet he watches the moon set while
the rest of us sleep.
I
once asked him of his lupine affairs,
He gave a simple reply:
"What if this saucer tears
a whole in the sky?
a deluge of nightmares.
and that is why."

mildly plagarized

rain, rain, go away
come again another day.
huh, familiar.

Gone for College

I walk into my bedroom
the air is strange
there's something softly restless
an anxious wind of change
though my possessions remain stationary
somethings bound to stir
because the hand of destiny
has taken my sister
her bed, perpetually prim and made,
a shrine to her absence
mocks me for my solitude
and feeble innocence

Hott Tips

-When cleaning glass with Windex, use newspaper instead of a paper towel. It leaves no streaks or fiber residue, plus its better for the environment!

-If your having trouble getting a vending machine to take a dollar breath on George Washington's face.

-Spread mayonnaise instead of butter on your grilled cheese sandwiches before toasting them. It fries better, has less calories, and spreads easier.

-If you lose your earring backing during the school day you can use an eraser to hold it in place temporarily.

UC Application Essay

Learning to Read: A Love Affair with the English Language

It is around noon, I’ve just finished watching Sesame Street and I’m sitting on the worn rug of the den wearing Osh Kosh overalls and playing with my Etch-A-Sketch. I deliberate with furrowed brows, then carefully carve the letters “B-O-M-B” into the screen. Giddy and proud, I toddle over to my Papa to find out what I spelled. “Bomb, baby, you spelled bomb. Have you been playing with bombs?” He chuckles. I giggle in delight. This is an ongoing game we play ever since I memorized my ABC’s in day school. Fascinated with the fact that these simple figures can create words, I invented a primitive guess and check method of learning how to spell.
Fast forward about two years: it is the first day of kindergarten and a pig-tailed young lady sits with her hands folded in her lap and feet swinging in excited anticipation. Mrs. Reagan asks the class, “Who here knows their ABC’s?” The young lady, along with the rest of the class, raises her hand high and beams. “Very good!” says Mrs. Reagan. “Now who here can spell the word dog?” Promptly the girl’s hand shoots up. “Yes Ms. Michelle?” With the utmost confidence the pigtailed girl replies “D-O-G.” She finishes with a smug smile. “Excellent Michelle, that is correct.” As the exchange continued Michelle, familiar with every word, raises her hand and huffs in frustration when Mrs. Reagan doesn’t call on her. “Alright last word, hmm lets see… how about the word, horse?” Several tiny hands raise cautiously, Michelle’s is not among them. As Oliver Toole spells the foreign word, Michelle realizes that she did not, in fact, know how to spell. What she had been learning to do, was memorize. In her novice mind there was no correlation between the sounds of each individual letter and the word as a whole. She went home that day humbled and distressed.
Experiencing such chagrin from early on had bruised my confidence, creating a mental block for reading and spelling. Through most of my early education I struggled along, unable to forge the connection of phonics. Luckily, I am blessed with an acute memory and was able to pass spelling and grammar with it. I spent my school days oscillating between frustration and daydreams. Daydreaming, I was good at. Fabricating stories about people and things I’ve never met or heard of was a source of solace and distraction. In retrospect, I see that my daydreaming is my earliest form of creative writing, I just did not have means to record my ideas yet.
Then I understood. One day in Mrs. Cortez’s 3rd grade geography lesson I read the word “Atlanta.” It was an unfamiliar word I had not memorized, yet I could still read it. “AT-LANT-A.” Just like that, I fell in love. With this new insight I embarked on reading a real chapter book from the advanced section of the SSR (silent sustained reading) bookshelf. Before my epiphany, I skimmed over heavily illustrated books extracting limited comprehension through my mental word bank. I chose “MA-TIL-DA.” To this day, Roald Dahl is one of my favorite authors. Much like the fictional character Matilda, I devoured books, often reading far above my intelligence level with relish.
I craved more than reading though. I longed to create, to write. Words were my bread and butter, and appropriately my writing journey began in a very logical place, the dictionary. I poured over my Webster’s for hours, collecting words for their the meaning or sound, like coveted gems. Often I played games with the words to see how many words I could discover with the same meaning or vise versa (I now know these are called synonyms and homonyms). At nine I began a journal to keep track of all my treasured words. Sometimes it would take the form of a diary, sometimes as a word jewelry box, but most often I’d use it for poetry and short stories. As I grew as a writer I began to appreciate sentence structure as a frame for my beloved words. My diction is the diamond, and syntax is the intricate setting that composes the figurative engagement ring to the English language I don. Yes, I am proud to admit it, my one true love is words, and I feel it is safe to say we will live happily ever after.

new words

Words are fun, even pretend ones.


forget+regret= forgret

forgret: v.- To have deep remorse over forgetting something important.

ex/ "I forgret losing our passports and causing our trip to Prague to be postponed."

vicious+malicious= valicious

valicious: adj.- To act both savagely and immoral simultaneously.

ex/ "Wow--did you see Kobe's fowl?--it was VALICIOUS!"

relationship+shit= relationshit

relationshit: n.- The predicament of being in a shitty relationship.

ex/ "Michael and Jan from the sitcom, The Office, are in a relationshit."

*note: You can replace any word ending in the suffix "ship" with "shit" to create humorous slang describing a difficult situation.

ex/ "leadershit," "dictatorshit," "friendshit," "sponsorshit," "cencorshit" etc....

routine+teenager= routeenager

routeenager: n.- An average adolescent whose in a funk and needs to get his/her groove back.

ex/ "Sheila, ever since Robby broke up with you, you've been moping around like a total routeenager."

snow+flake= snowflake

snowflake: n.- One who flakes out on a trip to the snow with their friends.

ex/ "Because Brian is being a snowflake we have an uneven number for ski-lift buddies."

and now for some spanglish:

i ola hola ! = wave hello

*note ola literally translates to wave, as in one made of water, hence this phrase is both a pair of homonyms and a translated pun.

ex/"i Ola hola to the surfer !" (wave hello to the surfer)

vomamos= let's go

shortened slang: vom

*note: this slang is to be used like the words split, or ditch.

ex/ "You guys ready to vom? I heard this party's gonna get rolled pretty soon."

Bese ese= Kiss that

*note: Use this slang as an insult or comeback by indicating to something vulgar to kiss.

ex/ insult: "Your stupid." comeback: "i Bese ese ! (pointing at tush)"

Sophomore Land

It's that time of year
When school is near
It starts back up
and soon enough
we'll be rarely there but almost here
and erasers will renew their old careers

we'll wear lots of scarves
to keep us warm
at football games
but it's not the same
as that time when we watched hand in hand
and smiled at the kids in marching band

well there's a boy
in history class
I take a glance
he smiles back
often I can't help but simply laugh
with those silly billy hopes of sweet romance

in sophomore land
it's hard to stand
way to profound
to stay on the ground
we read and write
to keep in sight
those goals to reach
that teachers teach

and leaves fumble tumble bumble to the ground
to sleep until the snow comes safe and sound
and leaves fumble bumble stumble to the grass
with those sill frilly hopes of sweet romance

More Haikus

Wayne and Martha

It's seldom ever
noticed just how often we
entertain angels

Sneeze

salty and spraying
much like the ocean's breath but
less satisfying


Noel

lights of fruit sparkle
on an evergreen tree that
has baubles on it

Bluster

A gust of wind gulp
it in with deep life giving
breaths of gratefulness

Blast from the Past

I happened to stumble upon a collection of poems I wrote as a 5th grader, being a high school senior now, that means 7 years ago. This finding brought me back to the days Mrs. Fritz's stuffy classroom at my parochial elementary school when the most important things in the world were for square and who got the last blue otter pop. I left in the spelling errors for authenticity, and am rather impressed with my ten-year-old self.

In a Diary

I can write my life
away from here
when sadness comes
shed a tear
feel lost and lonesome
draw you near
to share a story
with you, my dear
pages fill up
a lifes whole year
fantastic adventures
all end with a cheer
there is something
about my book that I fear
these recolections
may not always be clear
for there often less grand
than I make them appear

Another Chance

Deep breaths
the air is
cold and fresh
it's sunny
the day after a storm
fragranse of
wet concreet and grass
night has renewed
starting over
mistakes stay
in the past
deep breaths

Questions

People assume the oposite of
life is death
but isnt death the
ending of life?
So would birth,
the beggining of life,
be the opposite of
death?
then what is the
opposite of life?
These questions
consume me.

Leaves Haiku

Red, orange, brown, and green
all seasons leaves will be seen
summer fall and spring

SubText

jst a few simple words

chosen wth care
typed wth all thumbs
& sent thru the air
i kno it sounds silly
but i jst wanted 2 share
the fact that
i luv u!
& ill alwayz b ther!

FB wall post

i have something to
tell you a short message so
here we go ah-hem

haikus are the best
because you can fit so much
meaning into them

thats all my friend i
hope you enjoy this because
i do, like legit.

so legit in fact
i may never stop just keep
on trying to quit

well this indeed has
been procrastination at
its finest um, bye!

Content

I’ve had my moments
when the touch of my hand turns
everything gold

I’ve had my moments
when I choke back a whimper
just lonesome and cold

I didn't shape the
century but I did have
a warm hand to hold

I cannot boast a
war like Helen, but at times
behaved brash and bold

I sit now with my
peppermint tea in hand, and
watch it's steam unfold

It swims a while
then disappears, just like my
story, still untold

Wild Flowers

You have sunflowers
that solemnly lie
framing the pupil
of eye crystalline eye.
And when we stand closer
your hips touching mine
I notice your lashes,
a gold fringe of dandy lion

You explore my body
with resolve and strong hands.
and there it goes fleetingly,
just at your command
not sure what I've lost,
and still have, do not understand
the harsh thorn of a rose
punctured deep in my hand
and the lovesick blood still flows

But for now, I am empty.
You quietly take your leave.
I glance around, hesitate,
and silently breathe
a sigh.
and heave.
undeniably empty

Regret Haiku

numb, fumbling lips,
burning bile, crusted hair,
pinned, juxtaposed hips

Media, Media

Mirror,mirror, on the wall
who really is fairest of them all?
because according to US magazine, Instyle, Vogue, and Seventeen
it's no one in real life I've seen

painted cheekbones, inflated lips
ever so slightly photo shopped hips
a nip right there, a tuck right here
silicon to the rescue, have no fear!

and in this land where everthing's shiny
the hair is straight and waists are tiny
nails are polished, lips are glossed
both behinds and teeth are religiously flossed

I gussy, I primp, I powder, I contort
though convincingly synthetic, I still fall short
this mission is over, it's time to abort
this artificial beauty isn't worth the effort