Maxwell’s Poetry Anthology By Maxwell 9.2
Table Of Contents Page 1 - De Piscatione by Thomas Bastard Page 2 - Ladies and Gentlemen in Outer Space by Ron Padgett Page 3 - Walking to Oak-Head Pond, and Thinking of the Ponds I Will Visit in the Next Days and Weeks by Mary Oliver Page 4 - The Oceans Power by Mel F.R. Page 5 - Leaves Fell by Juhan Liiv Page 6 - Autumn Haiku by Maxwell Page 7 - Stream Sonnet by Maxwell Page 8 - Fishing Concrete by Maxwell Page 9 - Enchiladas free-form by Maxwell Page 10 - Rain Haiku by Maxwell Page 11 - My Name, Written piece Page 12 - Bibliography
Book 6, Epigram 14: De Piscatione. BY THOMAS BASTARD Fishing, if I a fisher may protest, Of pleasures is the sweetest, of sports the best, Of exercises the most excellent. Of recreations the most innocent. But now the sport is marred, and what, ye, why? Fishes decrease, and fishers multiply.
Though only six lines long, the theme of this poem is clearly communicated to me. Every line rhymes adding on to the song part of the poem. Lines 2-‐3-‐4 all start with the word ‘Of’. Lines 3 and 4 are parallelism. The poem is about Dishing, a sport I love and the author loves too. The poem reDlects how it’s changing, opportunities to Dish are decreasing and Dish are disappearing because of overDishing, not poaching, but the fact that there are just too many people. Part of Dishing is just the peace and quiet of being outside, which is nearly impossible now. The pleasure of Dishing is being destroyed along with the nature it’s part of. It’s shown using the poems song-‐like Dlow; it’s easy to get stuck in your head and give it a tune.
Ladies and Gentlemen in Outer Space Ron Padgett Here is my philosophy: Everything changes (the word "everything" has just changed as the word "change" has: it now means "no change") so quickly that it literally surpasses my belief, charges right past it like some of the giant ideas in this area. I had no beginning and I shall have no end: the beam of light stretches out before and behind and I cook the vegetables for a few minutes only, the fewer the better. Butter and serve. Here is my philosophy: butter and serve. This is a solid poem, it’s well written and constructed and it has a decent Dlow to it. It doesn’t paint a song in your head and it doesn’t rhyme but this particular poem doesn’t need that, because it’s a philosophy. The poem is separated well with commas and colons, which adds to the Dlow. You read it at the right pace and it comes out more clearly, it makes sense the Dirst time you read it. Towards the end of the poem theirs an extended metaphor, not quite a conceit, comparing life to cooking vegetables. If ever there was a Ditting metaphor to life this seems to Dit quite well, for me at least.
Walking to Oak-Head Pond, and Thinking of the Ponds I Will Visit in the Next Days and Weeks
just that lucky,
Mary Oliver
over the edge of darkness,
What is so utterly invisible as tomorrow?
my heart on fire.
my legs splashing
Not love,
I don't know where such certainty comes from-
not the wind,
the brave flesh
not the inside of stone.
or the theater of the mind-
Not anything And yet, how often I'm fooled-
but if I had to guess
I'm wading along
what the soul is supposed to be
in the sunlight-
could send us forth
and I'm sure I can see the fields and the ponds shining
with such cheer
days aheadI can see the light spilling like a shower of meteors into next week's trees, and I plan to be there soonand, so far, I am
I would say that only
as even the leaf must wear as it unfurls its fragrant body, and shines against the hard possibility of stoppagewhich, day after day, before such brisk, corpuscular belief, shudders, and gives way.
This poem is kind of cryptic; I had to read it a few times to pull out a good meaning. It’s about life, and how the future is unpredictable, the clearer you think it is the farther away it is. The poem is made completely out of subtle metaphors. Each one connects to the next and helps the poem Dlow. The poem almost is a conceit, its poem is about life and it’s describing it using walking from pond to pond, ponds being events in your life It has a sad tone, slow like waiting. Unlike some other poems, this one doesn’t have the same kind of rhythm or Dlow. Because of the kind of poem this is, not having the Dlow adds to the monotone feel of the poem.
The Ocean’s Power Mel F.R. The dark ocean waves, clashing amongst each other, above the ocean floor that dose not have a bother, Not a worry in its nonexistent mind, not a care, but only to its swimming friends, but when a disaster strikes the creatures will fear there world is at end But not for any to fear, the ocean has a special power, a power that humans can not comprehend, so unique it causes them to cower The ocean releases its power to heal all, to heal, from the dark waves to the ocean floor, the process may take from days to centuries, but when all is done, it is left for all to adore.
This is poem is about the ocean and the oceans “healing” power. The power can heal your mind and body on more of a spiritual level. Using personiDication, the poem takes the ocean and turns it into some sort of magical being, like a god. The poem has a strange disordered rhyme scheme, some lines rhyme with the other, some don’t, and some are separated by lines. But, the poem has a decent Dlow, it also sounds mystic which is really Ditting.
Leaves Fell BY JUHAN LIIV A gust roused the waves, leaves blew into the water, the waves were ash-gray, the sky tin-gray, ash-gray the autumn. It was good for my heart: there my feelings were ash-gray, the sky tin-gray, ash-gray the autumn. The breath of wind brought cooler air, the waves of mourning brought separation: autumn and autumn befriend each other. The poem is about the fall, and it being “gray”. The colour gray itself is a neutral colour between the brightness and cheer of white and the darkness and gloom of black. The “gray” is a metaphor for autumn being a calm, peaceful season, a transition between the exciting “white” summer and the cold, uncomfortable “black” winter. In the poem itself it’s shown using a unique rhythm and description carrying the theme from the start to the Dinish, the Dirst two sections being parallelistic in structure.
Sometimes I walk Under trees when the leaves fall, And I feel at home By Maxwell L
I wrote this poem about walking. The kigo of this poem is “leaves fall” representing the Fall when trees drop their leaves. The Kireji of the poem is the comma at the end of the second line, separating the thought of walking during the fall and how I feel about it. I tried to establish a tone of peace in the poem, because I like the fall and it makes me feel calm when I walk.
The stream starts high up in the mountaintops And it runs the valley through the hills It passes boulders and, suddenly, drops Down the valley, through the hills, never stills The stream that ran through the valley now is In the city, forgotten wooded park A long pathway, people walking, bikes whiz Rolling through the big city, dawn till dark The stream melts leisurely through countryside Forever flowing, never stopping though Perhaps only emptying, turning wide The new big river water still does not slow But this stream doesn’t stop, not here nor there By Maxwell L Forever a part of the earth and air
Before I wrote this I expected it to be impossible, but I went camping the day I did and I think it inspired me and so it wasn’t as bad I thought. When I wrote the lines I’d think of what I wanted to say, write it down and then modify it to rhyme and have the right syllable length. I opened a website to Dind rhyming words which was crucial, and I double checked all of the syllable counts and revised until I thought it was perfect. The only problem is that syllables seem to all be counted differently, so I don’t know if it really works out 100%.
By Maxwell L
I painted my room. It is the colour of rain. super depressing By Maxwell L
I wrote this poem based off of my real room, which I painted supposedly grey, but it’s the perfect shade of ugly rain cloud. I couldn’t :igure out how to put a kigo in that was easy to see but rain is probably the closest, representing the spring or summer weather. The Kireji is the period at the end of the second line separating the idea of what colour my room is with depression.
An enchilada is a piece of art Beauty; they all are unique and different to different people Style; they come from Mexico and have been re-created and re-mastered But an enchilada is still just food And still delicious
This poem is about how delicious enchiladas are, and is a conceit comparing enchiladas to art. For example, line 2 is about how beautiful enchiladas are and it’s a metaphor for all the different restaurants that serve different kinds of awesome enchiladas and how none are the same. Line 3 is about how enchiladas are originally Mexican food but have been adapted as more American style food and re-‐mastered. But it’s still just food, even though it’s complicated on the inside.
My Name People say my name probably between twenty and one hundred times a day, but I’ve never counted so it’s really just a guess. I never honestly thought about my name like that, in a sense that it is more than just a word. I asked my parents why they named me Maxwell. My dad wanted to name me Rocket. I don’t know if he was serious but, still, what an awesome name for a kid. My mom wanted to name me Sam. Sam is a really bland, non-specific boring name. My grandparents had a dog-named Sam and it did about as much as it would do dead, like name itself, dead. Rocket isn’t even a name, but it would have made my self-esteem higher than the name could ever fly. My brother was named after Harrison Ford. My name, though? They said that it didn’t sound girly, at the time. And I never got a better answer than that. I wonder if my parents even care what my name is. My friend and savior Google says Maxwell is a unit of measurement of something nobody knows about. But then it says Jessica Simpson has a daughter sharing my name and thats just frustrating. Moving on, a few websites later the name means Capable. That’s a three on my report card, but it means I can. I can get things done and I can decide, make life choices and be in control. It’s fitting, I consider myself a capable person, I try do lots of my work, teaching myself as I go along. I fired my guardian angel before I was even born. People call me by my first name but when my mom is angry she uses all three. My middle name: Donald. From my grandpa, who, after seeing an old photograph looks almost exactly like me. My mom tells me I’m like him, and I would agree. I mean, we have the same hair. He’s a carpenter, he has a home inspection business and he builds a lot of things. From when I was younger until even now I’ve always enjoyed helping him build. We built and upgraded a fort in my backyard, and he constructed my bed, which now is old and broken, covered with scratches. I guess you could say he’s a pretty capable person. I guess my first name is almost the same as my second, and as for my last name, it’s four letters and another word for road. My first name itself originated from Scotland, first recorded in 1144 as Mackeswell, meaning Mack’s spring or stream. A stream is a serene place; it brings every sense out in you, it makes the blind see and the deaf hear, it relaxes the mind. The stream is my goal, it’s every day I’m alive, how I’m going to get there, whether I’m going fishing or out on an after dinner jaunt. It represents calmness to me, without worry and cares and being able to relax and have fun. I’m the stream. By Maxwell L
Poetry Response Ten poems to represent who I am. And who I am is my identity. Identity is shaped by things around you, what you watch on TV, who your friends are, family, things you read and write. like poetry. I wrote Dive, found Dive, and all ten connect to me in 4 different categories. Poems about Fishing, about the Autumn, about relaxing and peace of my mind, and Dinally my life in general. It’s summer. There’s no school, it’s hot, and I have no movies left to watch on my laptop. What better to do than grab my Dishing rod and leave, enjoying the summer. The whole year of learning is like a top. I wind up until I’m really tight and then I release and spin, and the way I release is Dishing. I’ve done it since I was a kid but never appreciated it until I could use it as a stress reliever. In my concrete poem about Dishing I wound up the poem and then, “…I get the prize in my hands and all the casting, waiting, and reeling pays off.” The top unwinds. And loving it so much makes you attached to keeping it alive. I’ve seen the Earth’s population grow and multiply like bacteria. Pollution, expansion, the anti-‐stress loses it’s anti. Thomas Bastard wrote, “Fishes decrease, and ;ishers multiply.” He wrote in the 1500’s, so if this is what he saw then, than what am I seeing now? Come the fall it’s too cold to Dish, and the season closes. But when one door closes, another opens some say. I love the autumn. “Before such brisk, corpuscular belief, Shudders, and gives way.” The leaves, green and vibrant, transition to yellow, to orange, to falling and landing softly, gently on the ground. It’s so peaceful, I can go hunting, celebrate my birthday, and pick up on all the best video game releases the fall brings. And, the temperature is perfect to walk. I usually go walking in the summer but usually for more of a purpose. In the fall I walk because it feels good. “It was good for my heart: There my feelings were ash-‐gray.” Juhan Liiv knows exactly what I mean, a season of little excitement, but its not cold enough to be depressing, it’s so neutral that it’s basically perfect. My mind can be at ease. “Under trees when the leaves fall.” I wrote to describe the experience of it. Walking, because it makes me feel better, and because it helps me think. I can open my mind and take in the scenery. When you open your mind and let thoughts out you need something to Dill it in. For me it’s places I can sit and be quiet. The autumn makes me feel neutrally happy but relaxing: that takes something different. I wrote a sonnet about a stream. And although it is just a stream I know that it is something more, because this is my number one-‐Zen-‐relaxing place. I’m my happiest when I’m by a stream, creek, or river. The sound of moving water is like my thoughts and worries all-‐pouring out into the water and Dlowing far, far away where the bad ones will never Dind me again. My sonnet outlines 3 different streams, creeks and rivers that are important to me, but I won’t name because that will ruin it for me. “It passes boulders and, suddenly, drops”. Second to streams is the ocean (a particular theme I realized for me is that I really like the water for some reason, I can’t explain that, I just do). Since I was little my parents took my brother and me on a vacation once a year to the Caribbean. It’s usually the best part of my year, and is my best memories with my family. “(The ocean) The ocean releases its power to heal all.” My family usually leaves mid-‐winter, so it’s like being able to escape school and the cold at the same time. When the water is frozen and everything is covered in snow, this is a wonderful alternative.
I have 3 misDit poems. They don’t have anything to do with the autumn, Dishing, or relaxing. I just decided they were about my life. “It is the colour of rain.” I wrote a haiku about my room. Early this summer I painted it, and around the same time a few bad things happened to me. The depressing part is that the blue it was supposed to be is greyer and my room is like a sick reminder of the bad things that happened, because it looks like I’m sleeping in a rain cloud. When sunlight shines in it is kind of happy, but on rainy days my room is like double depressing and I close the blinds and hide. Anyways, I found a philosophical poem I really liked. The meaning is really wide, but I came to a conclusion. “(Butter) and serve. Here is my philosophy: butter and serve.” I mowed the lawn yesterday to chew up leaves and Dinish off the grass. Most people might hate stuff like that, but I like it. It’s rewarding to get things done. When you work and you work hard things come back to you, and when you slack off things come back worse. That’s life sometimes. And Dinally I wrote a food poem about enchiladas. “An enchilada is a piece of art.” You are what you eat. Now this poem is completely random so explaining it might make no sense. Some people like asparagus. I think it’s disgusting. I like enchiladas and some people hate them. You are what you eat, and I eat enchiladas because they’re amazing. Art like, even.
Image Links No name. Trout Silhouette. 2013. Clipart page 3. Clipart-finder.com. Digital art. September 9, 2013. http://clipartfinder.com/index/index/page/3 No name. No title. 2010. “horrible fishing laws are made without evolutionary consideration.” themoralskeptic.blogspot.com. Photograph. September 19, 2013.http://themoralskeptic.blogspot.ca/2010/11/ horrible-fishing-laws-are-made-without.html No name. Stars is the Answer. 2013. Mikalao, Sound Cloud. Soundcloud.com. Digital art September 10, 2013. https://soundcloud.com/mikalao/stars-is-the-answer-free-dl A’Hearn, Walter. Large Fall Pond. 2013. Paintings. Walterahearn.com. Painting. September 10, 2013. http:// walterahearn.com/large-fall-pond/ No name. Underwater looking up. 2012. Nature. Cartelthemes.com. Photograph. September 11, 2013.http:// cartelthemes.com/underwater-looking-up-8101-hd-wallpapers.html Schroll, Ted. Pine Lake Fall. 2009. Brookside and Wheaton Album. Tedschrollphotography.com. Photograph. September 11, 2013. http://www.tedschrollphotography.com/apps/photos/photo?photoid=41085263 No name. Fall Path. No date. Discover Ohio Media. Discoverohio.com. Photograph. September 11, 2013. http:// consumer.discoverohio.com/popups/media.aspx?projecttype=3&id=d259f2ec-5494-455c-8d43-701357374bef No name. Falling Leaves 5. 2012. Stock Images/Plants. Devianart.com. Digital art. September 12, 2013. http:// moonglowlilly.deviantart.com/art/FALLING-LEAVES-5-331605973 Barr, George. Blue Rock Creek. 2006. Behind the Lens. Georgebarr.blogspot.com. Photograph. September 12, 2013. http://georgebarr.blogspot.ca/2006/11/two-images-from-today-at-blue-rock.html No name. No title. No date. Fish Creek Watershed Project. Glc.org. Photograph. September 12, 2013. http:// www.glc.org/basin/project.html?id=77 No name. No title. 2013. Top 5 Chicken Enchilada Recipes. Foodnetwork.com. Photograph. September 13, 2013. http://blog.foodnetwork.com/fn-dish/2013/01/best-chicken-enchilada-recipes/ No name. No title. 2010. Atmospheres, Explorations in the. Atomikaztex.wordpress.com. Photograph. September 13, 2013. http://atomikaztex.wordpress.com/2010/01/ No name. Shiny Star. No date. Digital art category. Wide-wallpapers.net. Digital art. September 16, 2013. http:// wide-wallpapers.net/shiny-star-2-wide-wallpaper/ No name. Fall Stream. 2012. Nature. Hdwallpersinn.com. Photograph. October 1, 2013 http:// www.hdwallpapersinn.com/fall-stream-wallpapers.html Poem Citations Bastard, Thomas. “Book 6, Epigram 14: De Piscatione.” Chrestoleros: Seven Books of Epigrams written by T. B. Ed. 1598 Padgett, Ron. “Ladies and Gentlemen in Outer Space.” Poetry. N.p. Ed. N.d Oliver, Mary. “Walking to Oak-Head Pond, and Thinking of the Ponds I Will Visit in the Next Days and Weeks.” Poetry. N.p. Ed. N.d F.R, Mel. “The Oceans Power.” Poetry. N.p. Ed. July 13, 2010 Liiv, Juhan. “Leaves Fell” Poetry. N.p. Ed. June 2011