Poetry is not my forté, and so I tried my best. Sorry if this sucks.
For the assignment, we had to write 7 poems detailed across multiple areas of interest. Origins, Odes, Anger, Apostrophe, Home, Words compiled from the book All Souls by Michael Patrick MacDonald, and Loss.
From England, from Ireland, from Germany, they came.
Any way they could, they would.
They settled down in the Land of Opportunity and tried to make their name.
At first there were setbacks, of body and mind
They were mocked , shunned, and worse.
Still they took whatever job, or hope, or chance they could find.
Success came slow, but come it would
Like flowers on a budding vine
They learned to take the hate, and still they withstood.
With the passage of new rights did heed
the ability for them to flourish and grow.
Government soon became a faithful steed.
And here I stand before you now, an accumulation of these themes.
My blood is their blood.
My life: their dreams.
Your sweet sound
The beautiful voice
of the players
bringing you to life
You inspire me
You comfort me
and help my busy mind
Find peace
Without you,
My life
and my heart
Would be silence
Someone left the kettle on the stove
Forgot it was on.
And now the pressure of the steam
And the boiling water
Has built up
And what started as a few pops
A sputter
A quick chirp
Has built up into a full-blown,
Loud-as-heck
Ear-splitting,
Spitting
Never-ending
All-consuming
S C R E A M
The only way to make it stop
Is to remove the source of the heat
Pour out some water
Lessen the pressure
Let the water cool off
Calm down
Stopping the kettle scream is easy
Everyone knows what to do;
But why's it never quite so simple
To stop the kettle inside you?
Addressed to my Grandfather
You are funny
You are smart
You inspired me to step into new endeavors
I stepped out of my comfort zone
I tried to play music in school
I don't anymore, but I enjoyed it
And it was because of you
You inspire me to learn
I wish I could sit in your classes
And see what you have to say
I want to be able to talk to you
To hear your voice again
It is a shame, I didn't even get a chance,
A chance to say goodbye
Secure in my home with my family around me,
Accepted for who I am without strings.
Feeling like I belong. I am a whole. I can be me.
Everything and everyone in my outside life
Telling me to be a certain way. Forcing their ideals, their beliefs, onto me.
Yet here, I fell I can express myself in a way no one else would want.
An Ode to the King
The King of Southie,
I'd never heard of him until recently.
The heroic Whitey Bulger and the Irish Mafia
Was even more powerful than our elected politicians
No one made us feel better about where we lived than Whitey.
Southie: The best place in the world!
Other towns weren't lucky enough to have a Whitey Bulger.
I wanted to see the face of Whitey so I, too, could feel the power.
Always staying out of trouble and keeping his hands clean.
The King of Southie!
Whitey Rules!
"Has anyone seen my HOPE?
My feelings of SECURITY?
My belief in HUMANITY
And of people's
Inherent GOODNESS?"
I seem
To have
Lost them...
Misplaced them...
Somewhere...
For everywhere I look
I see the sadness of the world
Laying bare before me.
It is HELPLESS
HOPELESS
NAKED
RAW
And all I want to do
Is escape.
Launch myself
Into space
(Or everyone else
Into space)
Turn off
My brain
Tune out
The noise
"Are you sure they're lost?", you ask
"Have you looked everywhere?"
I...
I think so.
I have searched
In all
The obvious
Spots:
The TV news
The Internet
The comments section of
Social media
"Aha!", you say. "I see your problem.
You are not looking in the right places"
"But", I say
"This noise
It is
All
That I
Can hear."
And then...
You take me
By the hand
Unplug me
Lead me
Into the sunlight
Into the woods
Into the fields
Into the warmth of
Your FRIENDSHIP.
I see people HELPING
I see them LIFTING ONE ANOTHER UP
I see the GOOD
I see the BEAUTY
I see
And feel
The LOVE.
And with my new eyes
I can see through
All the bad
And finally find
The quiet GOODNESS
That is
So often
Eclipsed
But exists
If you
Only know
Where
To
Look