Coyote Call Issue 5 2015-2016

COYOTE CAL L P OET RY IS S UE Table of Contents Marcus Minsey

Emily Gossett Rylie Udall

Nichole Horsfall Rebekah Pack Angelia Lewis Zephaniah HSJ Elijah Pila

Sarah Verhalen

Landon Versace Barrow Jacob Smith

YOU MAY WRITE ME DOWN IN HISTORY- MAYA ANGELOU WITH YOUR BITTER, TWISTED LIES, YOU MAY TREAD ME IN THE VERY DIRT BUT STILL, LIKE DUST, I'LL RISE. DOES MY SASSINESS UPSET YOU? WHY ARE YOU BESET WITH GLOOM? 'CAUSE I WALK LIKE I'VE GOT OIL WELLS PUMPING IN MY LIVING ROOM. JUST LIKE MOONS AND LIKE SUNS, WITH THE CERTAINTY OF TIDES, JUST LIKE HOPES SPRINGING HIGH, STILL I'LL RISE. DID YOU WANT TO SEE ME BROKEN? BOWED HEAD AND LOWERED EYES? SHOULDERS FALLING DOWN LIKE TEARDROPS. WEAKENED BY MY SOULFUL CRIES. DOES MY HAUGHTINESS OFFEND YOU? DON'T YOU TAKE IT AWFUL HARD 'CAUSE I LAUGH LIKE I'VE GOT GOLD MINES DIGGIN' IN MY OWN BACK YARD. YOU MAY SHOOT ME WITH YOUR WORDS, YOU MAY CUT ME WITH YOUR EYES, YOU MAY KILL ME WITH YOUR HATEFULNESS, BUT STILL, LIKE AIR, I'LL RISE. DOES MY SEXINESS UPSET YOU? DOES IT COME AS A SURPRISE THAT I DANCE LIKE I'VE GOT DIAMONDS AT THE MEETING OF MY THIGHS? OUT OF THE HUTS OF HISTORY'S SHAME I RISE UP FROM A PAST THAT'S ROOTED IN PAIN I RISE I'M A BLACK OCEAN, LEAPING AND WIDE, WELLING AND SWELLING I BEAR IN THE TIDE. LEAVING BEHIND NIGHTS OF TERROR AND FEAR I RISE INTO A DAYBREAK THAT'S WONDROUSLY CLEAR I RISE BRINGING THE GIFTS THAT MY ANCESTORS GAVE, I AM THE DREAM AND THE HOPE OF THE SLAVE. I RISE I RISE I RISE.

The reason I chose this poem is because it fills me with confidence. It says that no matter what anyone does, you can and will rise up again. Nothing will stand in your way so long as you continue to rise up every time.

All The World’s A Stage- William Shakespear All the world's a stage, And all the men and women merely players; They have their exits and their entrances, And one man in his time plays many parts, His acts being seven ages. At first, the infant, Mewling and puking in the nurse's arms.

Then the whining schoolboy, with his satchel And shining morning face, creeping like snail Unwillingly to school. And then the lover, Sighing like furnace, with a woeful ballad Made to his mistress' eyebrow. Then a soldier, Full of strange oaths and bearded like the pard, Jealous in honor, sudden and quick in quarrel, Seeking the bubble reputation Even in the cannon's mouth. And then the justice, In fair round belly with good capon lined, With eyes severe and beard of formal cut, Full of wise saws and modern instances; And so he plays his part. The sixth age shifts Into the lean and slippered pantaloon, With spectacles on nose and pouch on side; His youthful hose, well saved, a world too wide For his shrunk shank, and his big manly voice, Turning again toward childish treble, pipes And whistles in his sound. Last scene of all, That ends this strange eventful history, Is second childishness and mere oblivion, Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans everything.

This poem states all the stages in a man’s life. It tells you how men back then would live out their lives, being with their family, fighting in the war as a soldier, and even when they become old men. It gives you a sense of how they lived before all that we have accomplished now has occurred.

Different poems from the Internet -Marcus Mincey

Heaven Sammy Saladino To many times that I would sit and cry.

So many days have passed me by, Nights that I would stay up until the brinks of dawn, some days it’s hard to grip that you are gone.

Your smile will forever be planted into my head.

Your favorite color was Cardinal red.

I remember one time that they sweep the Cubs, You brought in a broom, and swept up the shrubs.

Your favorite race was Mr. Gordon.

He was your Michael Jordan.

Your caring nature made everyone smile, It was almost like an artistic style.

You blew many people away by your sense of humor. it really wasn’t fair that you had a tumor.

Your work ethics and dependability was very impressive.

Despite your condition you were never depressive.

Your leadership could never be matched.

That’s why it was easy to get attached.

Even on your last night on earth, You still new what life was worth.

Now you are gone and in heaven.

Glad you didn’t witness nine-eleven.

Someday we will meet up once again.

I will see you only God knows when.

This poem is about losing a very good person and friend. It tells how the person was when he was alive and what caused him to pass on to heaven. The writer says that he will see him again one day, but only God knows when that will happen.

Lukas Graham- 7 Years

Once I was seven years old, my mama told me, "Go make yourself some friends or you'll be lonely."

Once I was seven years old It was a big big world, but we thought we were bigger Pushing each other to the limits, we were learning quicker By eleven smoking herb and drinking burning liquor Never rich so we were out to make that steady figure Once I was eleven years old, my daddy told me, "Go get yourself a wife or you'll be lonely."

Once I was eleven years old I always had that dream, like my daddy before me So I started writing songs, I started writing stories Something about that glory just always seemed to bore me 'Cause only those I really love will ever really know me Once I was twenty years old, my story got told Before the morning sun, when life was lonely Once I was twenty years old I only see my goals, I don't believe in failure 'Cause I know the smallest voices, they can make it major I got my boys with me, at least those in favor And if we don't meet before I leave, I hope I'll see you later Once I was twenty years old, my story got told I was writing about everything I saw before me Once I was twenty years old Soon we'll be thirty years old, our songs have been sold We've traveled around the world and we're still roaming Soon we'll be thirty years old I'm still learning about life My woman brought children for me So I can sing them all my songs And I can tell them stories Most of my boys are with me Some are still out seeking glory And some I had to leave behind My brother, I'm still sorry Soon I'll be sixty years old, my daddy got sixty-one Remember life, and then your life becomes a better one I made a man so happy when I wrote a letter once I hope my children come and visit once or twice a month Soon I'll be sixty years old, will I think the world is cold Or will I have a lot of children who can warm me?

Soon I'll be sixty years old Soon I'll be sixty years old, will I think the world is cold Or will I have a lot of children who can warm me?

Soon I'll be sixty years old Once I was seven years old, my mama told me, "Go make yourself some friends or you'll be lonely."

Once I was seven years old Once I was seven years old I chose this song because I think it tells a special story. To me it says how you should never be alone in life, how you should always have someone by your side during the good and bad times.

IF Y OU F OR G E T ME BY PABL O N E R UDA I want you to know one thing.

You know how this is: if I look at the crystal moon, at the red branch of the slow autumn at my window, if I touch near the fire the impalpable ash or the wrinkled body of the log, everything carries me to you, as if everything that exists, aromas, light, metals, were little boats that sail toward those isles of yours that wait for me.

Well, now, if little by little you stop loving me I shall stop loving you little by little.

If suddenly you forget me do not look for me, for I shall already have forgotten you.

If you think it long and mad, the wind of banners that passes through my life, and you decide to leave me at the shore of the heart where I have roots, remember that on that day, at that hour, I shall lift my arms and my roots will set off to seek another land.

But if each day, each hour, you feel that you are destined for me with implacable sweetness, if each day a flower climbs up to your lips to seek me, ah my love, ah my own, in me all that fire is repeated, in me nothing is extinguished or forgotten, my love feeds on your love, beloved, and as long as you live it will be in your arms without leaving mine

Where the Sidewalk Ends by Shel Silverstein There is a place where the sidewalk ends And before the street begins, And there the grass grows soft and white, And there the sun burns crimson bright, And there the moon-bird rests from his flight To cool in the peppermint wind.

Let us leave this place where the smoke blows black And the dark street winds and bends.

Past the pits where the asphalt flowers grow We shall walk with a walk that is measured and slow, And watch where the chalk-white arrows go To the place where the sidewalk ends.

Yes we'll walk with a walk that is measured and slow, And we'll go where the chalk-white arrows go, For the children, they mark, and the children, they know The place where the sidewalk ends.

“Where the Sidewalk Ends” is about moving forward in life. It tells how we will now leave “where the smoke blows black.” I think that means that you are leaving behind the past that was bad and moving towards a better future.

Amanda Katherine Ricketson By: Nichole Horsfall

Missing You

Amanda is 19 years old and lives in Colorado. She writes poetry and Missing you is like fiction and would Walking out into the pouring rain someday want to and expecting to stay dry travel the world.

It’s like calling for peace when the first bullet has already been shot I enjoy Amanda’s poetry because she And it’s like taking back a conversation is close to my age, That you’ve never had before and I can relate to a lot of her poems and how she feels.

She writes about pain and heartbreak that comes with being a young girl.

Missing you is like needing to cry but not having enough tears Like screaming at night With no one awake to hear you and it’s like loving a memory With only ghosts to kiss you back It’s like asking a blind man To paint the colors of the rainbow Or asking the deaf man To sing you their favorite song It’s like having a million things to say But saying nothing at all.

Today I sat in my car; alone Breathing and wiping the tears from my eyes Because you hadn’t called again And my heart felt heavy, with loneliness spilling over the brim and the spot where you usually rested felt empty; and everything ached I fought away the tears, trying to convince myself That I was okay. That we were okay.

Are we okay?

10 Things I Hate About You Poem

I hate the way you talk to me, and the way you cut your hair.

I hate the way you drive my car, I hate it when you stare.

I hate your big dub combat boots and the way you read my mind.

I hate you so much it makes me sick, it even makes me rhyme.

I hate the way you’re always right, I hate it when you lie.

I hate it when you make me laugh, even worse when you make me cry.

I hate it when you’re not around, and the fact that you didn’t call.

But mostly I hate the way I don’t hate you, not even close, not even a little bit,

This poem comes from the movie 10 Things I Hate About You. The main character, Kat, reads this poem in class and is directed to this guy that she fell in love with. She wrote it because he had previously hurt her and this was her way of expressing the way she feels.

I really enjoy this poem, because it clearly expresses the battle between love and hate. While in the poem, it says “ I hate this and I hate that,” I believe that the author is meaning that rather, instead of hate, there is love.

not even at all.

My Crush

While this author is unknown, I feel like the author may be a young girl.

Possibly close to my age.

I enjoy this poem very much because the feelings of a young crush are explained here in several lines. I feel like some people who may have a crush on someone could very easily relate to the butterflies in the stomach.

The feelings that I have for you are so very strong, It feels so sweet like a melodious romantic song This feeling is unusual and never experienced before, It’s a warm fuzzy feeling, yet real and pure.

It is like butterflies making my stomach their home, Each time your name flashes on my phone!

I’m crushing on you!

Author Unknown.

~The Beauty Of Friendship~ Friendship is a priceless gift It cannot be bought or sold; But its value is far greater, Than a mountain made of gold.

For gold is cold and lifeless, It can neither see nor hear; And in the time of trouble, It is powerless to cheer.

It has no ears to listen, Nor heart to understand.

It cannot bring you comfort, Or reach out a helping hand.

So when you ask God for a gift, Be thankful is He sends...

Not diamonds, pearls or riches, But the love of real true friends.

Helen Steiner Rice was an American writer of religious and inspirational poetry. she was born in Lorain, Ohio on May 19, 1900.

She passed away on April 23, 1981.

This poem shows the true worth of friendship and how having true friends is worth more than any gold or riches.

Because in a time of need, those riches cannot hold you or comfort you. They can’t wipe away your tears and tell you everything will be alright.

~Helen Steiner Rice~

Unbound~ By: Avenged Sevenfold Somewhere life is good, and things go as they should it’s hard to find, but that’s alright yeah Searching for the way, push harder everyday It’s deep inside, that shining light yeah but i’m scarred, by barriers placed in my path I’m scathed This ride that takes me through life leads me into darkness but emerges into light No one can ever slow me down I’ll stay unbound... ...Some live so wrong, with what we do is each his own But living in fear, endless shame for countless years I never lived in fear i knew i’d die another day I never viewed my life as something...slipping away There’s nothing here to take for granted with each breath that we take the hands of time strip youth from our bodies and we fade; memories remain... as time goes on.

Avenged Sevenfold is a heavy metal band from Huntington Beach, California.

Formed in 1999, this band has written many songs relating to problems that our youth may face.

This song by Avenged Sevenfold is one of my upmost favorite. This song is talking about how life has many ups and downs. I had underlined my favorite quote from this song, “ I never lived in fear I knew i’d die another day”. This line has helped me make many choices in my life and it also helps me face some of my fears. This line basically says that you can not let fear stop you from living your life.

Angelia Lewis

Poetry Month The Artist

Rummy Writer

In a clearing of A forest green He places his canvas On the ground In the light of the sun.

Then he hides, tiptoeing away Behind a tree and Waits for the bird To come.

Peeking through the evergreen’s Fat needles of pine, He watches In a motionless crouch.

And after many years If the bird ever comes And soars into his picture, Then and Only then, He takes one of its feathers And signs his name

“Are you gin or are you rummy?”

He used to ask me, green eyes flashing curiously.

I would always respond the same: “What's the difference?”

Sometimes I did remember, but would ask anyway And he would explain yet again: “A rummy writer is someone who writes everything down— Ideas, thoughts, maybe only a word.

They are the lucky ones.”

I would stop and think at this time, Trying to appear literary, even intellectual.

And I would always ask what gin was And he would always tell me, almost wistfully: “A gin writer doesn't write stuff down.

He keeps it in his head until it's just right.

He's always revising it, and he never finishes it.

So he never gets it written down.”

And then he would ask me if I was gin or rummy.

And I would answer with a question, “Which are you?”

He always replied, “gin” In a tone of voice saying that he wanted to be Rummy.

On the corner Of the page.

—Michelle Munchua, Ninth grade, Mount Carmel Elem./Jr. High School, Edmonton, Alberta

This poem shows the patience artists need to do their work. As the male artist in this poem waits for the bird, the reader can see the time that passes and the patience needed for the artist to paint his picture.

—Anne Thalheimer, Tenth grade, North Middlesex Reg. High School, Townsend, Massachusetts

This poem gives the reader a look into a writer’s mind. It shows how there are different mindsets for writers.

Poetry Month Sunrise

Fingerpainting

The clouds try hard to no avail To hide the morning rays Awakening the sparrow With brightness and with grace.

Blot,

Splot,

Splatter.

The birth of an idea;

Overcome by great magnificence The darkness humbly says, I will surrender to the morn And wait for night again.

The rooster bids good morning To every living thing, And all the world declares the day As the morning sparrow sings. —Jaclyn Dove, Eighth grade, Hoodview Jr. Academy, Boring, Oregon

To me, this poem signifies the beauty there is in a sunrise. As the new day begins, there is the dark of the night that leaves, starting a new day.

The child's picture of life Flowing from his mind through his fingertips.

Borrowing colors from the world To create his own.

And funny, how

Simplicity is so complex,

Imagination is so real, And make-believe is truth. —Michelle Hurst, Ninth grade, Wilson Jr. High School, Hamilton, Ohio

This poem shows the imagination of a small child and how easily children show that in their artwork.

Poetry Month Last Rain

Ocean Melody

The rain Brought me tidings.

I watched it fall With its woe and Gloom, and yet The buds were Beautiful as They shone in the Pearly threads of Web and spray.

I heard the Raindrops whisper as they Were molded onto the Perfect blooms: “Life from death; The ashes of the

Chrysanthemums Nourish the Brightening rose.

The young must be born.”

And I smiled and No longer was Afraid.

When I stand by the shore I always listen to the roar and wonder how it would sound on the ocean floor, down under the sea where the fish swim so free, down where the seaweed grows and peacefully flows, where the stingrays sting and show their offspring. I’d love to see it, that I admit. It’s where the fish form a crowd and where they gossip aloud. That’s what I think of when I stand by the shore and listen to the ocean’s beautiful roar!

—Carl Schimmel, Ninth grade, South Kingstown High School, Wakefield, Rhode Island

To me this poem shows how the writer perceived the rainfall. They talked about how they were scared about death until they figured out about death and life, the circle of it.

–Emily Emmer, Seventh grade, Albion Middle School, Sandy, Utah

The poem gives a little bit of description of what it would be like under the sea and how the author imagined how life under the ocean would be. It also shows the beauty that the ocean and ocean life has to offer.

Poetry Trap Door Everyone gather around for a show Watch as this man disappears as we know Do me a favor and try to ignore When you watch him fall through a bleeding trapdoor 'Cause nobody knows he's alive

By: Elijah Pila

Artist: Twenty One Pilots Bio: Twenty One Pilots is a band that started their career on Soundcloud.

I like this lyric because it reminds me of a personal situation I've been through. I’m pretty sure others have felt the exact same way.

Still I Rise You may write me down in history With your bitter, twisted lies, You may tread me in the very dirt But still, like dust, I'll rise...

Out of the huts of history's shame I rise Up from a past that's rooted in pain I rise I'm a black ocean, leaping and wide, Welling and swelling I bear in the tide.

Leaving behind nights of terror and fear I rise Into a daybreak that's wondrously clear I rise Bringing the gifts that my ancestors gave, I am the dream and the hope of the slave.

I rise I rise I rise.

.

Author: Maya Angelou Bio: Maya has written a lot of autobiographical poems and is considered an advocate of black people and women.

I like this poem because it shows that you can rise up and lift yourself from darkness. It’s also very uplifting.

Annabel Lee

Author: Edgar Allan Poe Bio: Poe was known for his creepy and insane poetry which made everybody love his work. Poe lived from 1809 to 1849.

It was many and many a year ago, In a kingdom by the sea, That a maiden there lived whom you may know By the name of ANNABEL LEE; I like this poem because it is showing the mental And this maiden she lived with no other thought state of the character. He is insane thinking Than to love and be loved by me... angels and demons killed his love out of jealousy.

The angels, not half so happy in heaven, Went envying her and meYes! - that was the reason (as all men know, In this kingdom by the sea) That the wind came out of the cloud by night, Chilling and killing my Annabel Lee.

Touched by an Angel We, unaccustomed to courage exiles from delight live coiled in shells of loneliness until love leaves its high holy temple and comes into our sight to liberate us into life.

Love arrives and in its train come ecstasies old memories of pleasure ancient histories of pain.

Yet if we are bold, love strikes away the chains of fear from our souls.

We are weaned from our timidity In the flush of love's light we dare be brave And suddenly we see that love costs all we are and will ever be.

Yet it is only love which sets us free.

Author: Maya Angelou Bio: Maya has written many poems throughout her lifetime. She lived from April 4,1928 to May 28, 2014.

I like this poem because it’s uplifting and shows we can overcome fear. It’s about strength and love which makes it a motivational poem.

Fear No More Fear no more the frown of the great, Thou art past the tyrant's stroke: Care no more to clothe and eat; To thee the reed is as the oak: The sceptre, learning, physic, must All follow this, and come to dust.

Earth Is Dead We taught nature, To be like us, We are shouting now, Save nature, Save nature, Like a vulture, Who thought, Earth is dead

Author: William Shakespeare Bio: Shakespeare is known for his tragic stories and play Romeo and Juliet.

I like this poem because it seems happy and uplifting but, also tragic and sad. It seems pretty deep also.

Author:Aftab Alam Bio: Alam is a international cricket player. He writes poetry from time to time.

I like this poem because it tells people we are harming the Earth. If we keep it up it could collapse.

SPOKEN ART Landon Versace Barrow

Music Box white lace on the outside satin pillows on the inside spinning gears of gold make noise... a ballerina with such poise too bad her porcelain heart's been broken cause its just so fragile... can you fix my music box? my heart is shy just like my thoughts I just want the song to play the one that takes my breath away can you fix my music box? the ribbons frayed you've gone a stray can you fix my music box?

-Ashton Edminster Ashton is a young woman who has an amazing voice and an amazing creative ability. She writes and compose all of her songs. I recently found her work on social media and fell in love with the gentle tone.

I Loved You I loved you, and I probably still do, And for a while the feeling may remain...

But let my love no longer trouble you, I do not wish to cause you any pain.

I loved you; and the hopelessness I knew, The jealousy, the shyness - though in vain Made up a love so tender and so true As may God grant you to be loved again.

-Alexander Sergeyevich Pushkin

Born in Moscow in 1799, passed in 1837.

I enjoyed this poem because it sounds like it started as a pure love, but over time became contaminated with jealousy and guilt.

Stay Beautiful

Butterflies

Stay Beautiful Even if we don’t stay friends Stay Beautiful Even if we fall apart Stay Beautiful Because you’re going to be someone in life Stay Beautiful For me or if not for me Stay Beautiful For yourself or for the people you love Just Stay Beautiful Because someday you’re going to find the one You really truly love and she’ll be telling you To Stay Beautiful too Stay Beautiful Because you’re an amazing person and That’ll never change and Stay Beautiful Because you’re one and in a million and Stay Beautiful Just to stay the beautiful person You are today and Stay Beautiful Because that’s who you are You’re Beautiful

Suddenly I get this feeling My mind draws a blank My hands are slightly shaking My heart begins to race

-Hayley Foster Hayley is from Akron, Ohio. She is a young poet, her poems are published online. I find her work polished and meaningful.

I feel like I'm losing control I'm nervous inside and out I have an unexplainable feeling I wish I could figure this out These butterflies inside of me Keep fluttering all throughout I thought they were gone for good I didn't know they could come out It must be the way You get to me like you do The way you make me feel The way I love you like I do.

-Hayley Foster

At least once in everyone’s life, we have felt this. It’s personally one of my favorite feelings, You don’t always just get this when you fall in love with a person, but falling in love with anything.

This poem is very relatable to everyone, many people have lost a close friend.

A Kitten

This poem is written By Eleanor Farjeon, born in London England. Born 1881 and lived all the way to be 84.

He's nothing much but fur And two round eyes of blue, I have a strong connection to cats and their behavior. They have He has a giant purr And a midget mew. always fascinated me, and I feel this poem perfectly captures the He darts and pats the air, finesse of a feline friend.

He starts and cocks his ear, When there is nothing there For him to see and hear.

He runs around in rings, But why we cannot tell; With sideways leaps he springs At things invisible Then half-way through a leap His startled eyeballs close, And he drops off to sleep With one paw on his nose.

Mother’s Smile There never was a fonder smile than mother's smile, no softer touch than mother's touch. So sleep awhile and know she loves you more than "much."

So more than "much," much more than "all."

Though tender words, these do not speak of love at all, nor how we fall and mother's there, nor how we reach from nightmares in the ticking night and she is there to hold us tight.

There never was a stronger back than father's back, that held our weight and lifted us, when we were small, and bore us till we reached the gate, then held our hands that first bright mile till we could run, and did, and flew.

But, oh, a mother's tender smile will leap and follow after you!

-Michael Burch

Michael Burch is the classic American poet, born in 1958 and is still alive. He has been nominated 5 times for the Pushcart Prize.

I chose this poem as my last because I don’t believe there will ever be any words to describe the gratefulness to a mother. A poem is a great start! My mother has done so much for me, and I would just like her to understand how loved and how beautiful she really is. Thank you mom for everything you do.

-Landon Versace

Favorite Poems of Jake Smith

The Road Not Taken Robert Frost

Shakespeare wanted to show the stages that man goes through, from woeful abandon as a child to the vehement predispositions of humanity, full circle back to the woeful abandon of the child, coming to acknowledge the folly of human conceits and the fact that we are small.

1874–1963 Robert Frost, Pennsylvania born, was the poet mascot of America, very famous and beloved.

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood, And sorry I could not travel both And be one traveler, long I stood And looked down one as far as I could To where it bent in the undergrowth;

All The World’s a Stage

Then took the other, as just as fair, And having perhaps the better claim, Because it was grassy and wanted wear; Though as for that the passing there Had worn them really about the same,

All the world's a stage, And all the men and women merely players; They have their exits and their entrances, And one man in his time plays many parts, His acts being seven ages. At first, the infant, Mewling and puking in the nurse's arms.

Then the whining schoolboy, with his satchel And shining morning face, creeping like snail Unwillingly to school. And then the lover, Sighing like furnace, with a woeful ballad Made to his mistress' eyebrow. Then a soldier, Full of strange oaths and bearded like the pard, Jealous in honor, sudden and quick in quarrel, Seeking the bubble reputation Even in the cannon's mouth. And then the justice, In fair round belly with good capon lined, With eyes severe and beard of formal cut, Full of wise saws and modern instances; And so he plays his part. The sixth age shifts Into the lean and slippered pantaloon, With spectacles on nose and pouch on side; His youthful hose, well saved, a world too wide For his shrunk shank, and his big manly voice, Turning again toward childish treble, pipes And whistles in his sound. Last scene of all, That ends this strange eventful history, Is second childishness and mere oblivion, Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans everything.

And both that morning equally lay In leaves no step had trodden black.

Oh, I kept the first for another day!

Yet knowing how way leads on to way, I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh Somewhere ages and ages hence: Two roads diverged in a wood, and I— I took the one less traveled by, And that has made all the difference.

Robert Frost was trying to make a point against rejection of the mainstream for the sake of rejection of the mainstream. and articulated a great poem that could be interpreted to have many meanings.

William Shakespeare

26 April 1564 - 23 April 1616 / Warwickshire

Shakespeare was a playwright that wasn’t really recognized for his work until later in life. He did some time as an actor but realized his passion was writing plays later.

I Am the Reaper Champs d’Honneur Ernest Hemingway

21 July 1899 - 2 July 1961 / Oak Park, Illinois Ernest Hemingway was a writer, a veteran who detested the new lifestyles of the roaring 20’s and despised the misconceptions at the time that war was great and honorable.

Soldiers never do die well; Crosses mark the places Wooden crosses where they fell, Stuck above their faces.

Soldiers pitch and cough and twitch All the world roars red and black; Soldiers smother in a ditch, Choking through the whole attack.

Hemingway rejected the glorification of war and worked hard to enlighten the youth that thought they would go and die a great, honorable death.

He wrote many stories praising a simple life and addressing the wisdom of our elders. I think this poem was his push back against the government’s message that going off to war was valiant and honorable.

William Ernest Henley

1849 - 1902 / Gloucester / England Henley’s school was lacking, so the poet that lent him books was the one responsible for kickstarting his career. He praised that man as a genius.

I am the Reaper.

All things with heedful hook Silent I gather.

Pale roses touched with the spring, Tall corn in summer, Fruits rich with autumn, and frail winter blossoms— Reaping, still reaping— All things with heedful hook Timely I gather.

I am the Sower.

All the unbodied life Runs through my seed-sheet.

Atom with atom wed, Each quickening the other, Fall through my hands, ever changing, still changeless.

Ceaselessly sowing, Life, incorruptible life, Flows from my seed-sheet.

Maker and breaker, I am the ebb and the flood, Here and Hereafter, Sped through the tangle and coil Of infinite nature, Viewless and soundless I fashion all being.

Taker and giver, I am the womb and the grave, The Now and the Ever

William was addressing time and the endless cycle it brings us through, and the many polar opposite titles it holds, life giver, life taker, the sower and the reaper.

Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night Dylan Thomas 1914-1953

A Welsh poet that gained popularity during his lifetime unlike many other poets popular today, Dylan Thomas was known for his radio recordings and erratic behavior, drinking copious amounts of alcohol and becoming a BBC radio star.

Do not go gentle into that good night, Old age should burn and rave at close of day; Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Though wise men at their end know dark is right, Because their words had forked no lightning they Do not go gentle into that good night.

Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay, Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight, And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way, Do not go gentle into that good night.

Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay, Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

And you, my father, there on the sad height, Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.

Do not go gentle into that good night.

I think Dylan Thomas was mourning the loss of his father and rejecting the finality of death and the toll that time inevitable reaps. He is praising recalcitrance in the face of death. A somber alcoholic, death was a common theme in his poems.

Blake was addressing the merits and risks of unchecked wrath and the blossoming of the anger and vehemence kept inside himself into a killing object, his constant seeding of wrath against his foe leading him on a path of murder.

A Poison Tree William Blake 28 November 1757 – 12 August 1827

I was angry with my friend: I told my wrath, my wrath did end.

I was angry with my foe: I told it not, my wrath did grow.

And I watered it in fears, Night and morning with my tears; And I sunned it with smiles, And with soft deceitful wiles.

And it grew both day and night, Till it bore an apple bright.

And my foe beheld its shine.

And he knew that it was mine, And into my garden stole When the night had veiled the pole; In the morning glad I see My foe outstretched beneath the tree.

Emily Gossett

Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night by Dylan Thomas Do not go gentle into that good night, Old age should burn and rave at close of day; Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Ralph Waldo Emerson Live in the sunshine, swim the sea, drink the wild air

Though wise men at their end know dark is right, Because their words had forked no lightning they Do not go gentle into that good night.

Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay, Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight, And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way, Do not go gentle into that good night.

Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay, Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

And you, my father, there on that sad height, Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.

Do not go gentle into that good night.

Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Summer Stars by Carl Sandburg Bend low again, night of summer stars.

So near you are, sky of summer stars, So near, a long-arm man can pick off stars, Pick off what he wants in the sky bowl, So near you are, summer stars, So near, strumming, strumming, So lazy and hum-strumming.

“Nature” Is What We See by Emily Dickinson

"Nature" is what we see— The Hill—the Afternoon— Squirrel—Eclipse— the Bumble bee — Nay—Nature is Heaven— Nature is what we hear— The Bobolink—the Sea— Thunder—the Cricket— Nay—Nature is Harmony— Nature is what we know— Yet have no art to say— So impotent Our Wisdom is To her Simplicity.

A Broken Cinderella by Paula Glynn

To The Beat Of Four by Cbm0602

Like a broken Cinderella, She turns in the jewellery box, There is no exit, no escape, no hope, And she is hanging from a noose rope.

The pitter-patter of small feet The summer air fresh and sweet They twirl across the polished floor To the music, in rhythm of four

Broken Cinderella, broken Cinderella, You're over; a broken record, That cannot play, pain here to stay, No prettiness to escape to, No moving forward, only moving back, Trapped, dead, deceased, over and broken, With a torn dress, a torn gown, That is ripped at the seams, Ripped in her agony, she searches, But can find no one with a solution.

Plies, jetes, and arabesques Set the dancers apart from the rest A Light, delicate, soft dance Puts the audience in a trance

Her shoes, long since worn out, Leave her walking a lonely road, Almost crawling on the ground, Her heart an empty, cold stone, With many heavy stones in the load.

She wishes for mercy from the hot sun, She wished for mercy from the cold snow, Where is the window? she asks, Where is my future? A broken Cinderella, Broken, down and out, Living all by herself, With no helping hand, With no friend or stranger to understand.

And she yearns to be fixed, She hopes to replace those bricks, That will make her a new home, A world where her heart carries no stone, And leaves her to fly in the blue sky, Her wings carrying her, From the unforgiving ground

Their spins, leaps, twirls have grace Clothed in silk, satin, and lace They pirouette with pointed toes The dancers never seem to slow They have confidence, poise, and elegance They perform with such excellence And when they finally pause They are met with a burst of applause.

About the Poets

Dylan Thomas was born on

Emily Dickinson is an American

October 17, 1914 and died

poet. She was born on May 15,

on November 9, 1953. He is

1886. She is from Amherst, MA.

Welsh. He was born in the

She is also known to be an

United Kingdom but died in

introvert.

New York City.

Ralph Waldo Emerson was an American essayist. He

Paula Lynn is 35 years old. She

was born on May 25, 1803

says her poems are long and

and died on April 27, 1882.

descriptive. She states that some

He both was born and died

of her poems are light hearted.

in Massachusetts.

Carl Sandburg was an American poet. He was born on January 6,1878 and died on July 22, 1967.

Cbm0602 is not a famous poet.

She is 13 years old and she loves writing poetry and enjoying

He won three Pulitzer

nature. It is quite obvious but she

Prizes.

goes by fake name or username.

Rylie Udall

Fingerpainting Blot, Splot, Splatter.

The birth of an idea; This is a good poem because it explains innocence and where the imagination of a child’s brain can take the child.

Tension

The child's picture of life Flowing from his mind through his fingertips. Borrowing colors from the world To create his own.

And funny, how

(past tense)

Simplicity is so complex, Imagination is so real,

tension?

And make-believe is truth.

Loved—

Old snapshots scotch-taped

—Michelle Hurst, Ninth grade, Wilson Jr. High School, Hamilton, Ohio

to my wall so many smiling faces why can’t I smile back?

I loved every one of them once their faces an army crusading behind me never quite catching up with me. Now (present tense) more tension?

I’m scared to look back Where do old feelings go after they die?

—Deborah Heitner, Ninth grade, Stamford High School, Stamford, Connecticut

I like this poem because it talks about someone growing apart from people they used to be close to be close with.

Dear Women, Sometimes You’ll just be too much women.

Too smart, Too beautiful, Too strong.

Too much of something That makes a man feel like a less of a man, Which will start making you feel like you have to be less of a women.

The biggest mistake you can make Is removing jewels from your crown I like this poem because it tells women To make it easier for a man to carry. that they do not have to lower When this happens, I need you to understand, themselves to be with a man, and that You do not need a smaller crownif the man does not like her as she is, You need a man with bigger hands. then be with one that will.

-Michael E. Reid He uses poems to express his love, light and motivation.

Under Your stool has never been stepped on, never felt the breeze of passing soles.

It is in the corner, where we stack our bottles. Upon that are books upon which we might sit.

Our cat likes to sleep under the stool, the legs suddenly a perimeter for her dreams. —Christopher Jones, Twelfth grade, Marthas Vineyard Reg. High School, Oak Bluffs, Massachusetts

I like this poem because it describes the life of a cat, and i really enjoy that cats exist.

Sitting next to you is like taking a sip of eternity the sun, the stars the sky never tasted so good.

-Christine Ann Martine Canadian Poet

I like this poem because it is saying that the person is so good to be around and gives them happiness

do not kill flowers growing inside of you for someone This is a good poem because it is saying that you do not need to change yourself for someone who does not appreciate your worth.

who does not appreciate the way you bloom -iambrillyant tumblr, instagram, and twitter poet real name is Bryan Chapata

Poems...

By Rebekah Pack

Emily Dickinson, 1830-1886, was an American poet who spent most of her life living in isolation from the outside world. But even though she lived in isolation she kept many correspondences and read many books.

This Is My Letter To The World,

By Emily Dickinson

I’m Nobody! Who are you?

By Emily Dickinson

I’m Nobody! Who are you?

Are you – Nobody – too?

Then there’s a pair of us!

Don’t tell! they’d advertise – you know!

How dreary – to be – Somebody!

How public – like a Frog – To tell one’s name – the livelong June – To an admiring Bog!

This is my letter to the world, That never wrote to me,The simple news that Nature told, With tender majesty Her message is committed To hands I cannot see; For love of her, sweet countrymen, Judge tenderly of me!

This is another one of my favorite poems by Emily Dickinson. In this poem she writes about

The first line of this poem is “I’m Nobody! Who

how she puts her poems for everybody to see, but

are you?” and that one line sets the whole

what she gets in return is that the world never

poem. This is why it is one of my favorite

even wrote back to her. Her poems get judged by

poems of hers because I like how it makes it

everyone. This means to me that all of her poems

seem okay if you do not want to be somebody;

were her letters to the world.

that it is alright if you want to be a nobody.

Robert Frost, 1876-1963, was an American poet born in San Francisco, California. His work was published in England before he became published in America.

He has won many prizes and medals for his poetry.

Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening

By Robert Frost

Whose woods these are I think I know.

His house is in the village, though; He will not see me stopping here To watch his woods fill up with snow.

Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening is

My little horse must think it queer To stop without a farmhouse near Between the woods and frozen lake The darkest evening of the year.

a poem by Robert Frost, about the journey

He gives his harness bells a shake To ask if there is some mistake.

The only other sound's the sweep Of easy wind and downy flake.

make in the journey of your life.

you go on until you fall asleep or in other words until you die. It’s about the stop you

The woods are lovely, dark and deep, But I have promises to keep, And miles to go before I sleep, And miles to go before I sleep.

Fire and Ice is a poem based on the passage in Canto 32 of Dante’s Inferno. This poem means how the world could end in fire or ice, and that it would be fine. They both represent desire and hate, and they show how both would be alright.

Fire and Ice

By Robert Frost

Some say the world will end in fire, Some say in ice.

From what I've tasted of desire I hold with those who favor fire.

But if it had to perish twice, I think I know enough of hate To say that for destruction ice Is also great And would suffice.

Maya Angelou, 1928-2014, was born Marguerite Annie Johnson. She was an American poet and civil rights activist. She published several autobiographies, essays, and poetry.

In the poem Insomniac, Maya Angelou portrays

Insomniac

By Maya Angelou

sleep as coy, aloof, and disdainful because she cannot go to sleep. She sees sleep as a villain,

There are some nights when sleep plays coy, aloof and disdainful.

And all the wiles that I employ to win its service to my side are useless as wounded pride, and much more painful.

and I cannot help but see her point as to why sleep is a villain, because sometimes no sleep kept us up at night.

Langston Hughes, 1902-1967, was an American poet from Joplin, Missouri. He was the leader of the Harlem Renaissance and one of the innovators of the new literary art form, jazz poetry.

Dreams

By Langston Hughes

Dreams is one of my favorite poems because it tells you to hold on to your dreams. Do not let your dreams go because your life would be boring without dreams, and you would not be able to be your best.

Hold fast to dreams For if dreams die Life is a broken-winged bird That cannot fly.

Hold fast to dreams For when dreams go Life is a barren field Frozen with snow.

Poetry Month Refusal Beloved, In what other lives or lands Have I known your lips Your Hands Your Laughter brave Irreverent.

Those sweet excesses that I do adore.

What surety is there That we will meet again, On other worlds some Future time undated.

I defy my body's haste.

Without the promise Of one more sweet encounter I will not deign to die.

-Maya Angelou

Marguerite Annie Johnson (April 4, 1928 – May 28, 2014) was American poet, memoirist, and civil rights activists

Zephaniah HSJ

Dreams Hold fast to dreams For if dreams die Life is a broken-winged bird That cannot fly.

Hold fast to dreams For when dreams go Life is a barren field Frozen with snow.

-Langston Hughes

James Mercer Langston Hughes (February 1, 1902 – May 22, 1967) was an American poet, social activist, novelist, playwright, and columnist

Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night Do not go gentle into that good night, Old age should burn and rave at close of day; Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Though wise men at their end know dark is right, Because their words had forked no lightning they Do not go gentle into that good night.

Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay, Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight, And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way, Do not go gentle into that good night.

Do Not Stand At My Grave And Weep Do not stand at my grave and weep I am not there. I do not sleep.

I am a thousand winds that blow.

I am the diamond glints on snow.

I am the sunlight on ripened grain.

I am the gentle autumn rain.

When you awaken in the morning's hush I am the swift uplifting rush Of quiet birds in circled flight.

I am the soft stars that shine at night.

Do not stand at my grave and cry; I am not there. I did not die.

- Mary Elizabeth Frye

Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay, Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

And you, my father, there on that sad height, Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.

Do not go gentle into that good night.

Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

- Dylan Thomas

Mary Elizabeth Frye (November 13, 1905 – September 15, 2004) was an American housewife and florist

Fire and Ice

Fireflies In The Garden

Some say the world will end in fire, Some say in ice.

From what I've tasted of desire I hold with those who favor fire.

But if it had to perish twice, I think I know enough of hate To say that for destruction ice Is also great And would suffice.

Here come real stars to fill the upper skies, And here on earth come emulating flies, That though they never equal stars in size, (And they were never really stars at heart) Achieve at times a very star-like start.

Only, of course, they can't sustain the part.

-Robert Frost

-Robert Frost

Robert Lee Frost (March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963) was an American poet.

A Book/ The Inundation of the Spring Emily Dickinson

There is no frigate like a book

The inundation of the Spring

To take us lands away,

Enlarges every soul -

Nor any coursers like a page

It sweeps the tenement away

Of prancing poetry.

But leaves the Water whole -

This traverse may the

In which the soul at first

poorest take

estranged -

Without oppress of toll;

Seeks faintly for its shore

How frugal is the chariot

But acclimated - pines no

That bears a human soul!

more For that Peninsula.

Emily Dickinson was an American poet who used a unique style of poetry for her time. Unlike the conventional methods, her poems contained short lines, slant rhymes, and improper capitalization and punctuation.

I like these poems because I love to read, and I love when spring begins after a long, cold winter. By reading these poems, I am truly captivated as if I was reading a book or experiencing spring for the first time.

Sonnet 116/ Sonnet 29 William Shakespeare Let me not to the marriage of true minds Admit impediments. Love is not love Which alters when it alteration finds, Or bends with the remover to remove.

O no, it is an ever-fixèd mark That looks on tempests and is never shaken; It is the star to every wand'ring bark, Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken.

Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks Within his bending sickle's compass come; Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks, But bears it out even to the edge of doom.

If this be error and upon me proved, I never writ, nor no man ever loved

When in disgrace with fortune and men's eyes, I all alone beweep my outcast state, And trouble deaf heaven with my bootless cries, And look upon myself and curse my fate, wishing me like to one more rich in hope, Featured like him, like him with friends possessed, Desiring this man's art, and that man's scope, With what I most enjoy contented least; Yet in these thoughts myself almost despising, Haply I think on thee--and then my state, Like to the lark at break of day arising From sullen earth sings hymns at heaven's gate; For thy sweet love remembered such wealth brings, That then I scorn to change my state with kings.

William Shakespeare was an English poet and playwright who is extremely well-known throughout the world. He completed so many different works in his lifetime which have led some people to believe that he had help, and didn’t write them all himself.

I enjoy these poems because of how beautifully the words flow together, and the thought it takes to truly understand them.

When I Have Fears/ Bright Star John Keats When I have fears that I may cease to be Before my pen has glean'd my teeming brain, Before high-piled books, in charactery, Hold like rich garners the full ripen'd grain; When I behold, upon the night's starr'd face, Huge cloudy symbols of a high romance, And think that I may never live to trace Their shadows, with the magic hand of chance; And when I feel, fair creature of an hour, That I shall never look upon thee more, Never have relish in the faery power Of unreflecting love;--then on the shore Of the wide world I stand alone, and think Till love and fame to nothingness do sink.

Bright star, would I were stedfast as thou art-Not in lone splendour hung aloft the night And watching, with eternal lids apart, Like nature's patient, sleepless Eremite, The moving waters at their priestlike task Of pure ablution round earth's human shores, Or gazing on the new soft-fallen mask Of snow upon the mountains and the moors-No--yet still stedfast, still unchangeable, Pillow'd upon my fair love's ripening breast, To feel for ever its soft fall and swell, Awake for ever in a sweet unrest, Still, still to hear her tender-taken breath, And so live ever--or else swoon to death.

John Keats was an English romantic poet, whose works became more well-received after his death. He used a lot of imagery to convey and emphasize emotions.

These two poems by Keats are fascinating to me because of their imagery. Everything is described very well, which makes it easy to picture things as you read them.

Sarah Verhalen