Wedding
Bride
Groom
Cake
Dance
Love
Priest
Church
Alter
Parents
Circle Poem 1
Stars
Constelations
Planets
Moons
Milkway
Galaxies
Elements
Gases
Matter
Dark matter
Love poem
A ode for the things I love
Things I tend to do are
for me. They are things and people that
I will worry about.
I can’t complain for
the friends I have now.
I am so grateful
that they are my friends.
I am grateful for the friends
that I have left behind.
I am forever thankful
for the people who have
affected me in my
Existence. Those old teachers and
classmates their names that I can’t
Remember. I am especially thankful for my kindergarten
teacher Ms. Valentines, you were my
first favorite teacher that I have
ever had. Things I tend to care
for and I am fond of being
the dogs that have been in my growth.
Thank you for every person that
I have met in my way in
the world.I want to thank
my mom for introducing
me to books at a young age
and developing my appreciation
for reading books.
Two word poems 3
The roses beauty bewitches
but the dasies lures small children
Two word poem 2
Rain falls softly today
breaking when it hits somthing
Two word poem 1
Snow this night falls so elegantly
so pure that it fades into the fog.
20 little prompts poem
You look like a model.
Poeple only luagh when it is a new moon.
You can see the movie, feel the stuffed seat,
taste the salty popcorn, hear the background of flies.
You can feel everything people whisper about you.
Grey went to Athens, Georgia .
Actually Grey went to Dallas.
People are ready to give everything for someone they love.
Karma made peanut butter spill all over her clothes.
I hate smoking because it gives life.
No caping fam I’m just joking.
The broken strands of friendship.
The brightness of the dreary day.
Grey preformed a summoning ritual.
Zsmalls went to New Orleans one summer.
Some day I will be a funny person.
Oh those aggresive kittens.
They never let a white people
vote for the Oscars anymore.
Γειά σουn (Geiá sou) Hello
The cactus dreams of being a famous actor.
We waited to buy Peanut butter.
My Response
Praise Song for the Day
A Poem for Barack Obama’s Presidential Inauguration
Each day we go about our business,
walking past each other, catching each other’s
eyes or not, about to speak or speaking.
All about us is noise. All about us is
noise and bramble, thorn and din, each
one of our ancestors on our tongues.
Someone is stitching up a hem, darning
a hole in a uniform, patching a tire,
repairing the things in need of repair.
Someone is trying to make music somewhere,
with a pair of wooden spoons on an oil drum,
with cello, boom box, harmonica, voice.
A woman and her son wait for the bus.
A farmer considers the changing sky.
A teacher says, Take out your pencils. Begin.
We encounter each other in words, words
spiny or smooth, whispered or declaimed,
words to consider, reconsider.
This poem is more talking about people in general, and words. Like considering words to say or reconsidering them.
My Response
Of History and Hope
We have memorized America,
how it was born and who we have been and where.
In ceremonies and silence we say the words,
telling the stories, singing the old songs.
We like the places they take us. Mostly we do.
The great and all the anonymous dead are there.
We know the sound of all the sounds we brought.
The rich taste of it is on our tongues.
But where are we going to be, and why, and who?
The disenfranchised dead want to know.
We mean to be the people we meant to be,
to keep on going where we meant to go.
But how do we fashion the future? Who can say how
except in the minds of those who will call it Now?
The children. The children. And how does our garden grow?
With waving hands—oh, rarely in a row—
and flowering faces. And brambles, that we can no longer allow.
Who were many people coming together
cannot become one people falling apart.
Who dreamed for every child an even chance
cannot let luck alone turn doorknobs or not.
Whose law was never so much of the hand as the head
cannot let chaos make its way to the heart.
Who have seen learning struggle from teacher to child
cannot let ignorance spread itself like rot.
We know what we have done and what we have said,
and how we have grown, degree by slow degree,
believing ourselves toward all we have tried to become—
just and compassionate, equal, able, and free.
All this in the hands of children, eyes already set
on a land we never can visit—it isn’t there yet—
but looking through their eyes, we can see
what our long gift to them may come to be.
If we can truly remember, they will not forget.
Vivid imagery and it talks about everyone getting a chance and opportunities
My Response
BLK History Month
If Black History Month is not
viable then wind does not
carry the seeds and drop them
on fertile ground
rain does not
dampen the land
and encourage the seeds
to root
sun does not
warm the earth
and kiss the seedlings
and tell them plain:
You’re As Good As Anybody Else
You’ve Got A Place Here, Too
I like the poem because it is for Black History Month. This poems kinda is alluding that we are all plants that can grow anywhere and you belong there.
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