A place for English 12 students from the Pearson Adult Learning Centre in New Westminster, BC, Canada to read work in progress, critique, and ask or answer questions (of other students and of the teacher).
Friday, November 21, 2008
Poem
Please post your poem here before Wednesday, November 26. Remember to stick to the guidelines - minimum 15 lines and 3 stanzas. Refer to the handout for more specific criteria.
Hello, this is my poem... i hope u like it...^^* ____________________________________ Last Day.
At night, I cry, cry in front of my brother. Because I leave my country forever next day. Forever? That sounds harsh. Does that mean I have to say “good-buy” to everyone? Even to my brother? With that thought, I sleep… tired from crying.
In the morning, I have to get dressed, and be at the airport. It isn’t fun anymore. At first, I was so excited to get away. At first, I was excited to go to foreign country. But now, it isn’t fun anymore.
At the airport, everyone is going somewhere. I don’t want to go. I don’t want to stay here. With my family… with my friends. I don’t want to cry anymore.
One day, I parked beside an elementary school Seeing the playground The slide, swings, monkey bar Stand solemnly in the sunshine Quietly and lonely
Suddenly, Ling...Red, blue, white, green children Dashing out from the classrooms Rushing towards them Their arms stretching Legs chasing legs Laugh flying high in the air
I gazed at the playground Astonished Monkey bar is climbing Slide is skating Swings are singing and dancing Joyfully
Ling…again penetrates to the corner Call the children back Loosing hands, turning back Leave the joy scattering around Fading away
No time say goodbye The slide, swings, monkey bar Staring at the running backs of the children Waiting for the next time Loyally
A long time ago, air was a transparent window Dirt was always on the shoes
Time went by egoistically Green shrinks step by step Brown spreads out and creates new borns Typhoon became a leader of whites Rain falls like a upside-down backet
What is this complex? The earth is asking us
Nothing to eat in Africa Full of trash to eat in America
Touch the ground, it's warmer than before Insects are heading to North
What are you talking about? Christmas is coming soon!
I dreamed I can bake, The cakes with frosting. They are so attempting and irresistible, I will feel pumped if I can create one of them.
It seemed easy, When reading the recipes, There were several with the least procedures, One also claimed there are only five steps to make a cake.
Sugar measured, flour sifted, Milk warmed, eggs beaten. The dry were mixed with the wet ones, Instructions followed, all as the experts demonstrated.
The aroma of a bakery filled the kitchen, “Ding!” the oven announced my first cake was born. And the cake did look like the picture on the recipe, Though, it tasted like a piece of clay.
The last time I loved you, You were young, I was pretty. Some memories related with the Youth.
We were naive, We were impulsive, Therefore we believed and produced, The product called LOVE.
The pledges repeated a thousand times turned into LIES, Something we both admitted; But the lies repeated a thousand times turned into a Truth, Something we both have to face.
The blade I nipped in my fingers, Gently stroked on your neck, The flowers blossoming on your skin, Like the kiss marks you left in my heart.
The eyes you looked at me, The blood pumped from your skin; The days I waited on the bridge, The arms you opened in the wind.
The last time I loved you, The blade I stroked on my vein, The flowers appeared on my dress, Witnessed our bloody romance.
Water guns, beach toys and sandals Spread out all over the garage. Racks, shelves and tables Dominated by the lingerers from the summer. Boots, sleds and shovels remain gloomily at the murky corner.
Rolling up my sleeves, Pulling out the storage boxes, I determine to terminate the messy. Squish, Squash, Squeeze. One by one, the occupiers give the space back.
Summer out. Winter in. Boots walk to the frontline. Sleds stretch on the wall. Children count down the days Waiting for the very first snow in Lower Mainland.
A scent of flower that fills the tranquil air, A smooth and gentle breeze that touches my skin. A soft whisper on the airwaves, that reaches me in, These are what you are to me.
My life is like heaven when I am with you, As my day begin, I look for you Whenever I am alone, Whatever comes along, I think of you These are what you are to me.
The meaning to every undefined words, A melody and a harmony to every song You complete me, And certainly fills my soul with glee. And these are what you are to me.
A silver case hang om my windsheld, Little square screen full of colors, Red is highway, Blue is route, Point of interest is orange.
Andrea tell me to turn in Spanish, Adam ask me to stop in English, Andrew guide me to the shortcut in French.
With a gentle touch, she take me home, With a pen touch, she show me the way to work, input the address, she will guide you to anywhere you want to go.
show me the way from above, give me confidence when I got lost, save my life to avoid the dangers in my way,
Still walking on the pavement jungle Agitated by the whizz of a fleeting car I am alive! Breathing, movements, photographs of the world Whirl of thoughts Tomorrow I will pay my bills, I want to have a house, I have to do my homework . . .
Stepping into a greenish place The city is lying behind my back My feet slip on juicy bronzed leaves Brown strokes everywhere Yellow, purple and red flowers splash the place A fluffy black squirrel glances and then disappears A drop slides from one leave to another And then another
The wet air refreshes my nose and invades my lungs I breathe; I really do The stillness of the trees calls all my attention My mind is silenced I can hear drops, birds’ songs and the wind touching around I feel the embrace of nature Roots grow from my feet and the Earth feed me My soul stretches and then smiles
Hello, this is my poem... i hope u like it...^^*
ReplyDelete____________________________________
Last Day.
At night, I cry, cry in front of my brother.
Because I leave my country forever next day.
Forever? That sounds harsh.
Does that mean I have to say “good-buy” to everyone?
Even to my brother?
With that thought, I sleep… tired from crying.
In the morning, I have to get dressed, and be at the airport.
It isn’t fun anymore.
At first, I was so excited to get away.
At first, I was excited to go to foreign country.
But now, it isn’t fun anymore.
At the airport, everyone is going somewhere.
I don’t want to go.
I don’t want to stay here.
With my family… with my friends.
I don’t want to cry anymore.
Monkey Bar
ReplyDeleteOne day, I parked beside an elementary school
Seeing the playground
The slide, swings, monkey bar
Stand solemnly in the sunshine
Quietly and lonely
Suddenly,
Ling...Red, blue, white, green children
Dashing out from the classrooms
Rushing towards them
Their arms stretching
Legs chasing legs
Laugh flying high in the air
I gazed at the playground
Astonished
Monkey bar is climbing
Slide is skating
Swings are singing and dancing
Joyfully
Ling…again penetrates to the corner
Call the children back
Loosing hands, turning back
Leave the joy scattering around
Fading away
No time say goodbye
The slide, swings, monkey bar
Staring at the running backs of the children
Waiting for the next time
Loyally
Egoist
ReplyDeleteA long time ago, air was a transparent window
Dirt was always on the shoes
Time went by egoistically
Green shrinks step by step
Brown spreads out and creates new borns
Typhoon became a leader of whites
Rain falls like a upside-down backet
What is this complex?
The earth is asking us
Nothing to eat in Africa
Full of trash to eat in America
Touch the ground, it's warmer than before
Insects are heading to North
What are you talking about?
Christmas is coming soon!
Warning emergency
It didn't reach to everyone yet
hello, u guys... sorry about last stanza, line 2...it's "i want to stay here," not "i don't want to stay here"...^^*
ReplyDeleteThis comment has been removed by the author.
ReplyDeleteDusk
ReplyDeleteI sit quietly on the dike, staring at the sunset,
Like a flashlight, approaching and creeping down.
Blinking.
Yellow, orange, red and pink sky.
Breezes cool the tender grass.
Ripened rice dangles.
Looking up, I see the flying kites,
Waving and dancing in the sky.
The birds are flying to their nests.
The oxen are tailing each other home.
Peasants step up, rushing to their grass huts.
Gradually the Sun disappears, and leaves a rosy spot.
I stand up and wave goodbye.
The sky becomes silken black.
Everything becomes silent.
My First Cake
ReplyDeleteI dreamed I can bake,
The cakes with frosting.
They are so attempting and irresistible,
I will feel pumped if I can create one of them.
It seemed easy,
When reading the recipes,
There were several with the least procedures,
One also claimed there are only five steps to make a cake.
Sugar measured, flour sifted,
Milk warmed, eggs beaten.
The dry were mixed with the wet ones,
Instructions followed, all as the experts demonstrated.
The aroma of a bakery filled the kitchen,
“Ding!” the oven announced my first cake was born.
And the cake did look like the picture on the recipe,
Though, it tasted like a piece of clay.
The Bloody Romance
ReplyDeleteThe last time I loved you,
You were young,
I was pretty.
Some memories related with the Youth.
We were naive,
We were impulsive,
Therefore we believed and produced,
The product called LOVE.
The pledges repeated a thousand times turned into LIES,
Something we both admitted;
But the lies repeated a thousand times turned into a Truth,
Something we both have to face.
The blade I nipped in my fingers,
Gently stroked on your neck,
The flowers blossoming on your skin,
Like the kiss marks you left in my heart.
The eyes you looked at me,
The blood pumped from your skin;
The days I waited on the bridge,
The arms you opened in the wind.
The last time I loved you,
The blade I stroked on my vein,
The flowers appeared on my dress,
Witnessed our bloody romance.
We Crows
ReplyDeleteWe are black birds,
We are upon top of trees,
We live close to human home,
But:
We never trust him.
***
We are not sweet singers,
We are not tasty meat,
We are not comely colors,
So:
We are freest birds.
***
Are we vain?
You make waste your eats,
We are your table visitors,
Then:
We venerate wasters, voraciously.
***
Croak, croak, croak.
Season Greeting
ReplyDeleteWater guns, beach toys and sandals
Spread out all over the garage.
Racks, shelves and tables
Dominated by the lingerers from the summer.
Boots, sleds and shovels remain gloomily at the murky corner.
Rolling up my sleeves,
Pulling out the storage boxes,
I determine to terminate the messy.
Squish, Squash, Squeeze.
One by one, the occupiers give the space back.
Summer out. Winter in.
Boots walk to the frontline.
Sleds stretch on the wall.
Children count down the days
Waiting for the very first snow in Lower Mainland.
By Phoebe
What you are to me
ReplyDeleteA scent of flower that fills the tranquil air,
A smooth and gentle breeze that touches my skin.
A soft whisper on the airwaves, that reaches me in,
These are what you are to me.
My life is like heaven when I am with you,
As my day begin, I look for you
Whenever I am alone,
Whatever comes along, I think of you
These are what you are to me.
The meaning to every undefined words,
A melody and a harmony to every song
You complete me,
And certainly fills my soul with glee.
And these are what you are to me.
This comment has been removed by the author.
ReplyDeleteAnother Day
ReplyDeleteLost in a moment
Motionless in time
As the world races by
Nobody stops to think
Nobody thinks to ask
Who are we really?
It's a backwards world
People are afraid of each other
Afraid of themselves
Resisting their dreams
Living an illusion
Where will this get us?
And then I realize
Everybody needs to be loved
And put aside the act.
This comment has been removed by the author.
ReplyDeleteThis comment has been removed by the author.
ReplyDeleteThis comment has been removed by the author.
ReplyDeleteRoad Savior
ReplyDeleteA silver case hang om my windsheld,
Little square screen full of colors,
Red is highway,
Blue is route,
Point of interest is orange.
Andrea tell me to turn in Spanish,
Adam ask me to stop in English,
Andrew guide me to the shortcut in French.
With a gentle touch, she take me home,
With a pen touch, she show me the way to work,
input the address, she will guide you to anywhere you want to go.
show me the way from above,
give me confidence when I got lost,
save my life to avoid the dangers in my way,
She is a GPS
Finding Peace into Nature
ReplyDeleteStill walking on the pavement jungle
Agitated by the whizz of a fleeting car
I am alive!
Breathing, movements, photographs of the world
Whirl of thoughts
Tomorrow I will pay my bills, I want to have a house, I have to do my homework . . .
Stepping into a greenish place
The city is lying behind my back
My feet slip on juicy bronzed leaves
Brown strokes everywhere
Yellow, purple and red flowers splash the place
A fluffy black squirrel glances and then disappears
A drop slides from one leave to another
And then another
The wet air refreshes my nose and invades my lungs
I breathe; I really do
The stillness of the trees calls all my attention
My mind is silenced
I can hear drops, birds’ songs and the wind touching around
I feel the embrace of nature
Roots grow from my feet and the Earth feed me
My soul stretches and then smiles