Poetry Portfolio

'somewhere i have never travelled,
gladly beyond'

"you open always petal by petal myself as Spring opens/ ​(touching skilfully,mysteriously) her first rose"

somewhere i have never travelled,gladly beyond
any experience,your eyes have their silence:
in your most frail gesture are things which enclose me,
or which i cannot touch because they are too near

your slightest look easily will unclose me
though i have closed myself as fingers,
you open always petal by petal myself as Spring opens
(touching skilfully,mysteriously) her first rose

or if your wish be to close me,i and
my life will shut very beautifully,suddenly,
as when the heart of this flower imagines
the snow carefully everywhere descending;

nothing which we are to perceive in this world equals
the power of your intense fragility:whose texture
compels me with the colour of its countries,
rendering death and forever with each breathing

(i do not know what it is about you that closes
and open;only something in me understands
the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses)
nobody,not even the rain,has such small hand

e.e. cummings

I picked this poem to fill the category of another poem by a poet we read in class. I picked this poem because I love the way E.E. Cummings writes. I love the way he describes things and how he makes the words flow together so well. The poem is very beautiful in the way it's written. It's interesting how he would occasionally leave words misspelled or wouldn't have a space where there typically would be one.

Still I Rise

"Just like moons and like suns,/With the certainty of tides,/Just like hopes springing high,/Still I'll rise."

You may write me down in history
With your bitter, twisted lies,
You may trod 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.

Maya Angelou

I picked this poem to fill the place of a poem by a poet we haven't read in class. I picked this poem by Maya Angelou specifically because I love the message of it. I love her confidence in what she is saying. She will rise from the hate, the hurt and the bottom.


"A woman bends over me,/ ​Searching my reaches for what she really is."

I am silver and exact. I have no preconceptions.
Whatever I see I swallow immediately
Just as it is, unmisted by love or dislike.
I am not cruel, only truthful -
The eye of a little god, four-cornered.
Most of the time I meditate on the opposite wall.
It is pink, with speckles. I have looked at it so long
I think it is part of my heart. But it flickers.
Faces and darkness separate us over and over.

Now I am a lake. A woman bends over me,
Searching my reaches for what she really is.
Then she turns to those liars, the candles or the
I see her back, and reflect it faithfully.
She rewards me with tears and an agitation of hands.
I am important to her. She comes and goes.
Each morning it is her face that replaces the
In me she has drowned a young girl, and in me an
       old woman
Rises toward her day after day, like a terrible fish.

Sylvia Plath

This is another poem by a poet we haven't read in class. I picked this poem because I liked the message that it was bringing. This is the type of poem that I feel can have multiple meanings, depending on who is reading it. To me it's about a woman that doesn't like how she looks and that being what she focuses on for her whole life.

Somewhere in America

"Here in America in every single state"

Here in America in every single state
they have a set of standards for every subject,
a collection of lessons that the teacher is required to teach by the end of the term,
but the greatest lessons you will ever teach us will not come from your syllabus,
the greatest lessons you will ever teach us you will not even remember.

You never told us what we weren't allowed to say,
we just learned how to hold our tongues.
Now somewhere in America there is a child holding a copy of "The Catcher In the Rye,"
and there is a child holding a gun.
But only one of these things had been banned by their state government,
and it's not the one that can rip through flesh,
it's the one that says 'F you' on more pages than one.
Because we must control what the people say,
how they think, and if they want to become the overseer of their own selves,
then we'll show them a real one.

And somewhere in America there's a child sitting at his mother's computer
reading the homepage of the KKK's website,
and that's open to the public,
but that child will have never read "To Kill a Mockingbird"
because the school has banned it for it's use of the N word.
Maya Angelou is prohibited because we are not allowed to talk about rape in school.
We were taught that just because something happens
doesn't mean you are to talk about it.
They build us brand new shopping malls so that we'll forget where we're really standing,
on the bones of the Hispanics,
on the bones of the slaves,
on the bones of the Native Americans,
on the bones of those who fought just to speak.
Trans-continental railroad to Japanese internment camps,
there are things missing from our history books.
But we were taught that it is better to be silent
than to make them uncomfortable.

Somewhere in America,
private schoolgirls search for hours through boutiques
trying to find the prom dress of their dreams,
while kids on the south side spend hours searching through the lost and found
because winter's coming soon and thats the only jacket they have.
Kids are late to class for working the midnight shift,
they give awards for best attendance but not for keeping your family off the streets.
These kids will call your music ghetto,
they will tell you you don't talk right.
Then they'll get in the back seat of a car with all their friends
singing about how they're 'about that life,' and 'we can't stop.'

Somewhere in America schools are promoting self confidence
while they whip out their scales and shout out your body fat percentage in class.
Where the heftier girls are hiding away
and the slim fit beauties can't help but giggle with pride.
The preppy kids go thrift shopping because they think it sounds real fun,
but we go because that's all we've got money for.
Cause mama works for the city,
mama only gets paid once a month, somewhere in America
a girl's getting felt up by a grown man on the subway.
She's still in her school uniform and that's part of the appeal.
It's hard to run in knee socks and Mary Jane's and all her male teachers know it too.
Coaches cover up star players raping freshmen after the dance.
Women are killed for rejecting dates,
but God forbid I bring my girlfriend to prom.
A girl is blackout drunk at the after party,
take a picture before her wounds wake her.
How many pixels is your sanity worth?
What's a 4.0 to a cold jury?
What'd you learn in class today?
Don't walk fast,
don't speak loud,
keep your hands to yourself,
keep your head down,
keep your eyes on your own paper,
if you don't know the answer, fill in C.
Always wear earbuds when you ride the bus alone,
if you feel like someone's following you pretend you're on the phone.
The teacher never fails, only you do.

Every state in America, the greatest lessons
are the ones you don't remember learning.

Belissa Escobedo, Rhiannon McGavin, Zariya Allen

This is a poem to fill the spot of a poem on a topic that matters to me. Although it isn't as powerful written down as it is a slam poem [title is link to YouTube video of it being performed] but it is still very powerful. There are so many elements in this poem that make it important to me and in general. It brings out the hidden information on how perfect America isn't. It breaks down a wall to show what the priority of America really is.