Group 5- Option 2

love is like a battlefield;
No one ever wins.

Love is a death trap;
your heart becomes pieces.

Love is like a maze;
you will never find the way out.

"poem"

My Love

Your skin glows like the pineapple, blossoms adorable as the calla lily in the purest hope of spring.
My heart follows your drums voice and leaps like a cat at the whisper of your name.
The evening floats in on a great dove wing.
I am comforted by your shirt that I carry into the twilight of boybeams and hold next to my breast.
I am filled with hope that I may dry your tears of water.
As my legs falls from my underwear, it reminds me of your house.
In the quiet, I listen for the last whisper of the day.
My heated hands leaps to my hat. I wait in the moonlight for your secret money so that we may jump as one, hands to hands, in search of the magnificient red and mystical child of love.

Option 3: Group 4 HATE!

i hate it when people hate
they don't stop nagging about it
you think about them you talk about them
just because they are bigger then you
just because they look better then you
you try not imitate, but your the first one on doing it
u seem not to face the fact
that you are a hatter.
you seem to always criticize
seem to always judge
just face the fact that you fake and they are not!

Group 3. Option 2 Loving Love

Love is...
Its God
Its special
its unique
its meaningful
it stand for something
it starts somewhere
its something you terish
it stays with you forever
its not easy to forget
Love is everywhere.

Option 3

You and I,
together we make it complete.
You and I,
Nothing will ever break us apart.
You and I,
The world is our kingdom.
You and I.

The rumors begin to follow us.
You and I?
Begin to hate each other
You and I?
Will never happen!

Digital Poetry Collage

Charles Bukowski

Charles Bukowski was a born in Germany but moved to U.S.A at the age of 2. Charles struggled his whole life trying to write his poetry and publish them. His lack of publishing success caused him to give up writing in 1946. That's when his heavy drinking began. He struggled from job to job; and eventually succeeded. His first book of poetry was published in 1959. He published over 40 books.
Even though Charles brought out the machismo in his writing it was very powerful and true. He is an example of free writer, writing without being scared of what people would say or think about him.

Questions I would ask Charles Bukowski:
1. Was your dad a drinker? if he was, is that the reason you began too? If not, then why did you begin?

2. Did any of your parents support you in the career you chose?

3. Not depending on the poems you have written about women, did you ever fall in love? If yes, who and did she affect your writing? If not, how did that affect your writing?

sitting on these steps...

As i sit and do nothing,
As i sit and stare;
I see a group of people,
Boy i wish i was there.

As i sit and search through my backpack,
as i sit and count the stairs;
I am dying of boredom,
This sh*t isn't fair.

I search through my pockets,
to find some change;
to buy myself a coffee,
These pictures are out of my range.

I wish i knew some of these "cool people"
So i wont be starring at my phone,
So i wont be sitting and doing nothing,
I guess I'll keep counting the steps,
Up high to down low.

Poerty & Music

The relationship between poetry and music is that they both have a sense of rhythm, the both expressing life issues or personal issues. Poetry is music just without the actual "music" background. If you find away in putting it into music, definitely will work out! Song writers are poets, just expressing them self's in a more common way to the world. Poets are song writers just more mellowed way. Poets write what is more than what the eyes can see, now music writers right what they experience and they see. They don't go more beyond that.

I Believe

I believe...
i believe in GOD
i believe in religion
i believe in The Bible
i believe in love
i believe in fear
i believe in bravery
i believe in honesty
i believe in kids
i believe in marriage
i believe in discipline
i believe in crying men
i believe in stories
i believe in frienship
i believe in my father
i believe in my mother
i believe in my sisters
i believe in my brothers
i believe in enemies
i believe in leaders
i believe in the community
i believe in freedom
i believe in nature
i believe in music
i believe in triumph
i believe in me...

Ekphrastic poem

 

Time is slowly going

I attempt to grab it,

 impossible!

I want to close my eyes

And start all over again

darkness has trapped me

I am in another world

I want to cry

But the fear won’t let me

I want to scream

but no one could hear me

Time goes by slowly

I’m isolated

I'm all alone

And nobody can help me...

NOBODY!!

Portal

That round metal you see its not just an ordinary sewer cap.
You see cars run on top of it,
people just walking by it.
Little do they know
once that grey dark cap opens;
darkness begins.

The happiness you once felt;
you will never feel it again.
A smile you once saw;
it will just be upside down.

The colors you see
are all black and white.
The streets cracked
the people with long sad faces.
Everyone just dressed the same,
walked the same;
talked the same.

Its cold, really cold.
its dark, pitch dark.
The trees, they are no trees
The grass, they is no grass.

Food

From the first mouthful to the last,
it seems as if you cant resist the delicious taste.
the strong solid colors reaching your mouth,
the crunchiness
the tenderness...
the soft feeling... not hard at all...
it seems as if it will last forever;
its not sweet or sour,
its just right.
The different kind of taste
all at once,
just mingle inside you mouth;
it seems to connect with one another.
Irresistible!

Option 4: Love Hurts

To: the worst thing ever.
fr: the best thing you ever had.

1. Your aggressiveness. The way you spoke, the way you saw, everything about you seemed perfect, boy was i wrong. Your attitude, your vulgar words just stepped all over everyone.
2. Your flaws. The  way you walked, your "swagger" hm it was all that hot. Your short temper really matched  your height. Your lips were not all that attracting. Please just never smile.
3. Your addiction. The way you would stay up all night just sitting on the computer; watching porn, it wasn't only NOT NORMAL but it was shameful to now how you jerked your way off. It sickening to know you addiction.
JUST PLEASE,NEVER SPEAK TO ME AGAIN!

I've been everywhere

i've been to...
Guatemala
chiquimula
Esquipulas
Zacapa
Escuintla
Tikal
Honduras
El Salvador
Georgia
Florida
Orlando
Miami
Connecticut
New Haven
Stamford
Boston
Maryland
Washington, D.C
Pennsylvania
New Jersey
Manhattan
Roosevelt
Queens
Staten Island
Brooklyn
Bronx
Jackson Heights
Bay side
Jamaica
Flushing
Little Neck
Long Island
Freeport
Babylon
Rockville Centre
Lynbrook
Woodmere
Rockaway
Richmond Hill
161st, Jamaica
153st, Supthin
The Americas
Wall street
Central park
Bronx zoo
Coney Island
Olive garden
Northern Blvd
Hillside
Hillcrest High school
Richmiond Hill high school
JHS 217 Van Wyck
P.S 86 153st
madison Square Garden
Upstate New York somewhere
Canada
Quebec
F train
j train
R Train
m train
LIRR
6 train
Grand central Trains
7 Train
E Train
q10
q113
q43
q27
q30
q31
q5
n4
n22
n31
n32
shuttle bus

I Remember...

I remember my first cellphone, and wouldn't stop talking
i remember when i went to Canada i never wanting to come back
i remember my first kiss, i really don't want to remember that!
i remember my first love
i remember my first broken heart
i remember my first time going to the park.
i remember wanting to run away from home
i remember being a bad ass and cutting school.
i remember jumping from the slide and breaking my foot.
i remember enjoying nap time in kindergarten.
i remember playing Super Mario on Nintendo
i remember the way my dad use to tuck me into bed.
i remember when i was the favorite.
Boy do i remember the way my cousin gave a black eye to my brother.
i remember the way i argued with my sisters and made up 10 minutes later.
i remember fastest runner, oh the good old days!
i remember being really mean, never again will i be really mean
i remember loving pain!
i remember the last good-bye from aunt Ruthie.