Final

final writing assignment

I have learned more about poetry in this class then I originally thought I would. I personally was interested in just how many different types of poetry there were. I was unaware of the different perspectives and tricks you can use to help yourself write a good poem.

Personally, I’ve never been good with words. Whether it be speaking out loud or picking my words correctly to get my point across. In this class having the chance to speak out loud and get more practice doing that helped me feel more confident in my speaking voice. Also, being able to write all my thoughts out on paper and edit them has been a very good learning tool for me. Before coming into this class I had a very wrong idea about poetry. I thought all poetry was a formula you had to follow in order to make a real poem. I now have learned that a poem can consist of whatever I believe it should consist of. Without even realizing I think writing poems for this class has helped give me inspiration for my paintings.

            Poetry has taught me to be creative in my approach. I’ve realized you can break rules and go with your gut a bit with art and poetry, which I’ve enjoyed a lot. Art for me is simply about connecting with people visually. I now feel a bit better in my way of connecting with people verbally.

I have heard before that the roll of the artist is too hold up a mirror to society and I believe that to be completely true. Artist are here to help society fix our wrong doings. Were here to call attention to problems in our generations. Through hearing and reading all the famous poets in class I see that poets do just that. Poets are about to call out society on a large scale and show us exactly what we’re doing wrong. I also think poets are able to reflects on the small beautiful moments in life that everyone goes through and can easily be looked over. 

Artist and poets alike are here to push the boundaries and not follow rules. By doing this they help push society forward. Were here to challenge and satire events. Artist have always help society achieve more. Artist help change people’s way of thinking. I am an artist because I want to help people feel. Whether it’s a happy or sad or shocked feeling, I want people to feel. I believe people today just are not able to connect with all our emotions. 

Visual Poem

Moth

Found Poem

Whispers from the universe

lost in time.

Tombstones that carry the family name.

Return there to seek inspirations,

wonders to behold.

Keep everything in memory.

Lower a coffin into the grave.

Valley of the dry bones.

Eden restored.

Satans influence pervades.

The clock is ticking, the end of time.

Do not walk with the wicked.

Do not stand in the way of sinners.

Do not be affraide or discouraged. 

You are destine to die once, and face judgment.

The earth beneath barred me in my forever.

I saw the beast.

I saw an angel.

I saw the dead.

The sin and doom of ungodly people.

They follow me below.

Surrealist

Halloween, it took me flying

forcing me to take a trip into the twilight with you.

The night covers my brain in black paint.

We walk on a path of stars together into the black hole.

Darkness then brings me home and wraps a blanket around my face.

The dark sleeps to keep me awake

The daylight calls out to me softly.

I scream for the night to return.

I make no noise.

I say nothing because the paint has dried,

And I’m stuck in the black.

I look and see nothing.

Eyes open sucked into the dark.

I look and see shadows.

The ghouls of all Hallows Eve coming out to play.

Ghouls who eat the dead.

Ghouls who know envy and lust.

Ghouls who I never loved.

sound poem

I’ve been a listener since I met you.

Something about your life makes me wants to hear.

I will listen to your broken tooth smile talk about time and how nothing truly exists.

You talk about facts and how I cannot fear the future.

you stammer and slur words about your past self.

Ranting about the rage you would repress.

I’ll listen when you lose feeling in your left leg,

And drink liquor with you to lessen the pain.

Watching you blow money to self-medicate every Monday.

Then I’ll help you hop back to my Honda, and bring you home.

You play slow soothing sounds from your guitar

And tell me tales of Taylor, the troublemaker you tried so hard for.

I hear in your voice how she hurt your heart and messed with your head.

You say she Facebooked you, and you forgave.

I don’t think you will ever listen to be because of her.

I listen because I know what it feels like not to heard.

cubist poem

Driving 

Get in the car

Set belt. Buckle buckle buckle

Drive. Wait. Foot on the break. Break.

Drive slow. Slow slowly.

Drive. keep foot on break.

Go. Left. Which way is left. Left. Wait. Right.

Left left left

Turn left

Go slow. Watch out. Drive. Foot on break. Slow slow

Which way is left. Which way is right left right left right

Which lane. Get over. Wrong way

Which way is left right

“You went the wrong way”

Please make a u-turn

Left left

No the other left

Pleaae make a u-turn

Please make a u-turn

You. You drive. Wrong

You. You. Turn left

wrong

Go slowly

Watch out

Red light don’t go. go slow

Stop.

 watch what your doing. Too slow

Why so slow. Wrong way.

Which way is left. Left left left.

Keep going. Drive drive drive.