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POETRY RESPONSE

POETRY RESPONSE. Ximena English G. George Gray By : Edgar Lee Masters.

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POETRY RESPONSE

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  1. POETRY RESPONSE Ximena English G

  2. George Gray By: Edgar Lee Masters I have studied many timesThe marble which was chiseled for me --A boat with a furled sail at rest in a harbor.In truth it pictures not my destinationBut my life.For love was offered me and I shrank from its disillusionment;Sorrow knocked at my door, but I was afraid;Ambition called to me, but I dreaded the chances.Yet all the while I hungered for meaning in my life.And now I know that we must lift the sailAnd catch the winds of destinyWherever they drive the boat.To put meaning in one's life may end in madness,But life without meaning is the tortureOf restlessness and vague desire --It is a boat longing for the sea and yet afraid Some people feel lost through their own lives. They are always thinking about the negative side of stuff and let the one time opportunities fly away. Not having clear or understood what the meaning of your life is isn’t the biggest issue. Instead you have to keep up living your daily life; cause through experiences and knowledge is that you find out the purpose of your existence and the goals you’re suppose to accomplish. As describe in the poem fear has to be put aside, and you have to let go off you whenever and to any destination the boat takes you. This poem brings up the moments in my life were I have let opportunities pass away , because I am afraid I am not going to succeed, and then I regret those precious moments and I wish I had taken the chance. For example I had the chance on competing nationals in gymnastic but I just quit because I thought I was going to fail. Nowadays I wonder were my career would be standing.

  3. The bride By: Bella Akhmadulina Soon my white gown Is stained with wine like blood; I feel both lucky and poor As I sit, listening, at the table. Terror and desire Loom in the forward hours. My mother, the darling, weeps- Mama is like the weather. …My rich, royal attire I lay aside on the bed. I find I am afraid To look at you, to kiss you. Loudly the chairs are set Against the wall, eternity… My love, what more can happen To you and to me? Oh to be a bride Brilliant in my curls Under the white canopy Of a modest veil! How my hands tremble, Bound by my icy rings! The glasses gather, brimming White red compliments. At last the word says yes; It wishes me roses and sons. My friends stand shyly at the door, Carrying love gifts. Chemises in cellophane, Plates, flowers, lace… They kiss my cheeks, they marvel I’m to be a wife. Every woman, married at least once, has experienced the anxiety and fear that flowed through veins on the day they were all dress up in white. Doubts surely started to fill their minds, and they started thinking about the future they’ll have with their husbands. Some may have felt afraid and maybe wanted to step back. Others may have felt miserable for some inconvenient that may have ruin the criteria of a perfect wedding. Marriage is a big step of life, there is nothing wrong to be nervous when facing such a gigantic remarkable episode which unifies completely two soul and bodies. As i read this poem i felt like if i wen back to that day were sitting by my bed my moether told me the story of the day she left her first boyfriend standinig at the church altar, because as she watched herself at mirror with her long big white dress she had seconds thoughts.

  4. On aging By: Maya Angelou When you see me sitting quietly, Like a sack left on the shelf, Don’t think I need you chattering. I’m listening to myself. Hold! Stop! Don’t pity me! Hold! Stop your sympathy! Understanding if you got it, Otherwise I’ll do with out it! When my bones are stiff and aching And my feet won’t climb the stair, I will only ask one favor: Don’t bring me no rocking chair. When you see me walking, stumbling, Don’t study and get it wrong. Cause tired don’t mean lazy And every goodbye ain’t gone. I’m the same person I was back then, A little less hair, a little less chin, A lot less lungs and much less wind. But ain’t I lucky I can still breathe in. We are all going to get old and grouchy. Our relatives are going to treat us like babies, and will try to do everything to make our life easier. This poem can be related to all grandparents that have bad temper, but at the same time are grateful to still be on earth.Even if you are old you should always think as yourself strong and always looking at the positive side of things. Is vital to always thank for what you have, also that you might be healthier or happier than others. My grandmother Libia can be a real pain since she is so negative, and is always depressed and complaining. On the other hand my grandfather Nestor, is so joyful he seems 10 years younger. He is always smiling and trying to get the best out of each moment. I hope when I grow old I wont be such a heavy load to carry around and that I irradiate happiness and harmony.

  5. ORIGINAL POEMS By: Ximena Duque

  6. Left Me Aside (my choice) There’s no way you could know just how I feel  I’m devastated, empty, dead inside. Static fly, no symphony that can heal You strolled away, just pushing me aside. I try to halt my tears but they burst out, My heart is shattering when you are by and while you idly stroll and walk about when thinking of me you may heave a sigh  My once placated soul is tormented. Your love, my pain, my disease and my curse To hold you more, so again I’m tempted but I bury my dark grief waiting hearse. And now my heart is empty, barren and stark. Sadly, to you I was only a lark.

  7. The day she became a woman Beautiful as a summer sunset over the savannah With ruby lips that blossom from her face And as you watched her speak Her mahogany hair flowed in waves Glowing her peach cream skin and emerald-green eyes Like a fly all over the room up and down, With owls eyes staring at the door Behind her future is suspended on the air TICK TOCK TICK TOCK The clock rumble in her ears Only two more minutes until it hits reality Would it car crushed like Or it would gently slide like a dry old leave in the fall Her flamingo still body faces the wall Her rattle snake hands lead the symphony TICK TOCK TICK TOCK Dances the clock TICK TOCK TICK TOCK BOOM, erupts the door There it is, Mr. Pasty envelope the judge She hops to it fiercely as a hyena Tears it open with her teeth Streams of ocean dripping down her Turtle skin Eyes grew dull and cloudy And her castoff lips dry and swollen Her hair like the fluff on a dandelion Frail as fall leaves blowing in the October breeze, Her back stooped over She carries the BIG BLACK WORDS “POSITIVE”

  8. Dexter (from another point of view) Four walls, the floor is all BLOOD “It’s about vengeance, not retaliation” “It’s about something deep inside” There is this inner voice again Buzzing inside my head It urges my needs, it craves my pleasures I brought my tools with me, Rubber sheets are ready Plastic tarp to leave no evidence Black plastic trash bags to dispose my secrets Black leather gloves to go on anonymous Duct tape to imprison And my knives and mini-saw to do the Art Fragile as his victims Now laying on my table Cut open Cherry sauce dripping down the cheeks Taste of Ecstasy One more for my collection

  9. Sarah gray (inspired by another poem: Gorge Gray by Edgar Lee Masters) I have meditated many times The path of my life Handcuff to my mother´s arm Stepping on her feet It’s all I acknowledge That is my life But I hope to conceive my destination. Liberty was offered to me, but my wings Were cut off as my mother disapproved Second chances knocked at my door, but I was afraid I would be reprimanded again Ambition called to me, but I dreaded the chances But still I was eager to discover the meaning of my life I decided to find new wings And set them free And catch the wind of destiny Free to rule my life Free to step in my own feet Free to make my own mistakes And yet not afraid to be judge by my own mother

  10. Bibliography • Dunbar, Paul Laurence. “George Gray” Poetry section, Literature Gold Thompson Eileen, Prentice Hall, New Jersey, 1994. 552. • Marcus, Leonard S. Lifelines. New York: Dutt on Children, 1994. 27 • Marcus, Leonard S. Lifelines. New York: Dutt on Children, 1994. 15

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