Wednesday, September 26, 2012
Writing our Identities
1. Please post your favorite creative piece from the "Identity and Memoir" unit here. You can choose between your emulation of Sandra Cisneros' "My Name," or either of Sherman Alexie's works: "Home" or "Indian Education." If you'd like, you can also add an appropriate image to compliment your work. Make sure you post your full name with your work.
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Pamela Yiadom Creative Writing
ReplyDeleteSchool
I am education.
I am the teacher's pet
I am the check marks on a test.
I am education.
I am the pen writing in a notebook.
I am the big smart board, so you can look.
I am education.
I am the level of success
I am the struggle of regret.
I am education.
I am the goal of everyone
I am the time.
I am education.
I am the questions
I am the answers.
I am education.
I am me.
Nice work, Pamela! I love how broadly you look at the subject of education. I also learn a lot about your commitment to school from this piece. I wonder if you could give us more of a sense of your connection to or feelings about your own educational experiences. "Teacher's pet" tells us something, but I want to hear more of YOU!
DeleteFrancesca Woodbridge
ReplyDeleteBonjour, Comment ça va?
The ground was nubby on my knees, tiny red dots blooming on soft white. The sound of heavily accented English. "You are ze girl who like Arthur?" The heavily lined eyes and thick lips stared me down. Nervous giggles erupted from most lowly Americans. I could feel the scarlet seeping into my cheeks. Yanking down my shirt that was far too short, I stumbled on my words, tripping and flailing over the syllables, my own sad obstacle course. "Ehm, oui, il est très beau-" The thick lips and lined eyes smirked. "Arthur!" they shout, and la langue d'amour falls off their tongues like silk, leaping over the letters. Arthur stares at me, hazel on uncomfortable blue. He replies quickly, and the lined eyes and thick lips laugh. The words sink into the cheap linoleum, forever lost in translation. I sank in as well, and watched. Watched the thick lips fall onto American ones, watched them up against concrete walls; the air thick with hormones and uncomfortable desire.
But the thick ips then kissed me on both cheeks, staining them with a newfound feeling. I emerged from the linoleum, the bubbly sensation of being a teenager settling into my bones. The party soon ended and I strutted out of the building, letting my shirt rise to bare pale skin, laughing with my friends. "I feel like a real teenager," we all wholeheartedly agreed. I sat with my head held high on the bus, daring anyone to cross me while they looked upon me in sadness.
I ascended the stairs to my house, my mother greeting me with a huge smile. The smile straetched taut over her skin, extending so far and wide that it made me feel sick.
"How was the party?" the smile said.
"Good.", was the steel door slamming shut. My mother sank into the wooden floorboards as I disappeared into my room.
Sometimes you don't have to speak different languages for things to be lost in translation.
I love your use of descriptive language in this piece, and how you didn't have to say everything that happened for the reader to understand what was going on. I also love how you based it off of language, and at the end portrayed that teenagers sort of have their own language, which i thought was very relatable :)
DeleteI agree with Coco. Your descriptive language here is incredible. I also love that you included the actual French. I love your description of speaking a foreign language as "my own sad obstacle course," and the French "falling off tongues like silk." I also like the detail about the changing length of your shirt. This detail speaks volumes about your transformation and confidence. Your last line is very Sherman Alexie! I love that you have a line of clever reflection at the end.
DeleteI really liked your describing of the people as the heavily lined eyes and thick lips. I really liked your description of a party and your writing made me feel the emotion and vibe of the party.
Delete"I AM"
ReplyDeleteI am a mirror with no reflection,
I am the pain of a hard day's work,
I am the fist in a drunk man's fight,
I am the stem that supports a leaf,
I am a clouded mirror.
I am the surge in a writer's pen,
I am the hearts beat of a drum,
I am the sky as the dawn breaks,
I am the tears of a clumsy child's play,
I am the keeper of broken promise,
I am the final breath before the cold,
I am the eyes open in a drowning sea,
I am the pleasant dream that was never meant to be.
I love your descriptions here-- eyes open in a drowning sea, surge in a writer's pen, mirror with no reflection. I wonder, perhaps if a refrain or a unifying message about your identity would be helpful to tie it all together. What do you want the reader to take away about YOU? Great job!!
DeleteThis poem gives me such powerful images! The descriptions are absolutely incredible and it's easy to soulfully connect with this on many levels. It seems like you tie in all of these little pieces of you as a person into one poem.
DeleteME
ReplyDeleteI am me,
I am the merengue you dance to,
I am the Ferris Wheel's cracks,
I am the shine on your shoes that make your day,
I am me.
I am the mountains peek,
I am the snow melt that waters your food,
I am me.
I am "you do good and come back to take care of me",
I am the joy that comes from marching bands,
I am what you want but not necessarily what you need,
I am me.
I am high mansion walls,
I am the shine in luxurary cars,
I am the sun you cant stop form shining,
I am, the dreams you tie your shoes with.
I am, and will forever be, ME.
This is a really great piece. It had such great imagery and description. It was so creative and really flows.
Delete"My Name"
ReplyDeleteAtticus. First glance and you think it’s just a word. You say, “I notice it has seven letters: an A, two Ts, an I, a C, a U, and an S. But then you look deeper and you see a history. You see the name of a man from Ancient Greece who built shelter for the poor. This being one of the origins of the word “attic.” You see a lawyer from author, Harper Lee’s novel, To Kill a Mocking Bird. A man who protected a black man in a time and place where no one else would probably even consider the idea.
Atticus is my name. It is a name that is simply different from other names. It is me, as I am weird, unordinary, or even “abnormal.” It is who I am and I embrace it. Sometimes, however, I wish that I could have a more common name, like Greg, or Dan, or Michael, or Nicholas, or Frank, or John, or Ben. Names that may have unique meanings, but are simpler, easier, and just fit in more.
Although this is true, life goes on and I am me. I am Atticus. I couldn’t imagine my life any differently.
My name.
Atticus.
I love your "My Name" essay! I like how you were really diverse and creative in your piece! I really enjoyed how you connected your name to a lot of other different stories and origins! I also love how you said you were weird and abnormal! Not a lot of people have the guts to admit that... so I give you some serious props! Overall, awesome essay!
Delete“I Am”
ReplyDeleteI am the flower that grows between the pavement stones,
which line the street of my Bronx.
I am the urban Sheppard gathering concrete sheep;
my anthem is blown by angry car horns.
A musical production of buzz puts me to sleep.
I try to find solace in crowded subways,
as I hurdle towards educational fulfillment.
The urban human landscape in all shades and forms opening my eyes.
Yearning for perfection, I am the flower that grows between the pavement stones,
I bloom in the snow and the hard wind,
I am the cactus pear of the city hard and tough on the outside, but sweet on the inside.
This is so good! I love how you wrote in the same way as the poet. Your words were well chosen and alluring. They really painted a picture in my head.
DeleteI am From..
ReplyDeleteBy: Tamar Eckstein
I am from
floral tights,
and pink toe nails.
I am from
smiley faces on the
margins
of my homework,
and
random yiddish words,
scattered through my life like sprinkle.
From, when Mom biked in Paris with me,
a giant watermelon,
in her stomach.
From debates with my brother
about who has the
“Eckstein nose”
“I-do”s
and
“No-you-don't”s
and
“I-do-too”s.
Typical.
I am from wishes on stars,
dreams in my head,
and the swirl of chocolate and peanut butter.
I am from Great-grandma Tanya
passing through Ellis Island.
From a song line,
for every situation.
From family stories,
and the small changes in your life,
that always seem too big.
From growing up too soon,
from being too young.
I am from
shena madela.
From love
and hate
and protesting at the age of five.
From hippy parents,
folk festivals,
and tradition.
I am from my family,
my experiences,
and my life.
I am from
the first day I first fell in love with,
floral tights,
and pink toe nails.
With
smiley faces in the margins
of my homework.
To the day I realized
I am who I am,
because of where,
I
am
from.
Tamar, I love your use of dialogue here. I can really hear your relationship with your brother from that technique. Your specific details make the piece strong!
DeleteThird Grade
ReplyDeleteIt was recess. We were outside playing 'Freeze Tag'. I wasn't it. I saw someone get tagged. When he froze I knew it was my job to unfreeze him. I ran but I wasn't as quick as Samantha Woods. Right as she unfroze him, his head immediately bashed into my front tooth. "Ow!" he yelled. The game was over. We were rushed to the nurse. He had a gash on his head because of my tooth. The only thing running through my head was, "Are we related because I had his blood in my system?" We weren't.
I love how you in put humor when it was something so gory. And how you reacted as a child. Also, how you look much more tougher than the boy!
DeleteThat last line was soo funny! I think it was the funniest thing how you depicted your thought at the time and then continued to answer your own question.
Delete"I Am"
ReplyDeleteI love the beach, the beach that pushes your hair back, I love
and steals your stress away leaving you calm, I love
the hot sand; it shapes imagination, I love
the salty water, I love that's refreshing on a hot day
I love the beach, I love.
I like how you picked the beach because everybody can relate to it. Good use of punctuation.
DeleteI liked how instead of saying what you are, you're saying what you love to describe who you are. -Ngan Trac
DeleteI am
ReplyDeleteI am a forest without trees
A beach with no ocean
I am that peice of gum at the bottom on your shoe
I am your longing for something new
I am that crack in the sidewalk
And the stump in the forest
I am pancakes and waffels
I am chipped blue paint
And spagetti and meatalls
Brunches and dinners
Family Gatherings and playful inside jokes
I am cleat torn grass feilds
I am a forest without trees
It was great how you were able to make each line concise but so meaningful and descriptive at the same time. I also really liked the imagery that you used in your poem.
DeleteI agree! I love the description "cleat torn grass fields." Great job!
DeleteI loved your contradictions at the beginning. Really poetic. I liked your repetition of your first line at the end of the poem.
Delete"I Am"
ReplyDeleteI am, at heart a child
I am, spontaneous and wild.
I am, the hot chocolate with extra marshmallows .
I am, the blinding light from the TV, past bedtime.
I am. the distraction, here and there, can't help not to stare.
I am, at heart a child
I am, the loud noises you hear, getting stuck in your ear.
I am, the words racing across the paper of a fairy tale.
I am, the "Oh to many sweets" your mom told you not to eat.
I was a child,
I am a child,
I am at heart a child.
Excellent job, Gaby! I love that you chose a theme/something to say about yourself, and stuck to it. Your last stanza really pulls it all together for me.
Delete"My Name' by Jacob Ballew
ReplyDeleteMy name is Jacob. My family is Jewish, but not particularly religious. I don't know what I am. I haven't studied the bible, but I've been told I'm named after one of the famous characters. Sometimes people will ask my name and say, "Wow you've got a lot to live up to son."
Truthfully, I don't think that names are that important to who you are as a person. I feel like my personality defines me more then a name ever could. I remember reading that the Native Americans would wait to name their children, until a specific trait, or quality arose in them. Then the child would be named after that one trait. This is a much more thought out alternative, compared to naming your child something random, like Jacob.
Then again, A child does not remain the same throughout his life, and his name would soon seem pointless. Despite all this, I still wouldn't change my name. It's who I've grown to know myself as.
I love how this piece is so reflective. It's like we get to hear your inner monologue, and this tells us a lot about who you are-- a thoughtful and inquisitive person. I like the comparison to how Native Americans name their children.
DeleteIndian Education Piece, Jack Mascuch
ReplyDelete8th Grade: I hesitate to open the envelope that will change my life forever. Multiple paths are open to me right now. I see many directions that my life could take but the envelope will only show me one. My friends look at me. Their paths already chosen. They know I don't. I'm at my house, I'm scared, I'm excited, I'm happy, sad and tired all at the same time, a kaleidoscope of emotions twirling in my head. Rip. There goes the envelope. I take out the paper that means everything. This is it the final moment, the golden hour, the leap of faith, the desperate plunge! I look at the paper. Wong side...damn and all that build up. I flip over the paper. My eyes register the images as normal words. Mere scribbles. But to my brain these scribbles mean the world. My kaleidoscope spins faster and I'm in a whirlwind of emotion. I'm in the sky, in the clouds, in space. But I'm right here and my paper is telling me that I got into Beacon high school first choice. And the paper says "Congratulations." "Thanks" I say.
my favorite one, great job, Please don't change anything. It's really relate able.
DeleteI really loved how you changed scenes quickly which made it more intense. My favorite part was when everything was leading up to you finally opening the letter and then it was the wrong side. I also liked how you ended it by simply saying "thank you". Great job!
DeleteI really like the way you describe your emotions, because I'm sure many of us were nervous as well. I could honestly say I could relate to how you felt that day. Good job.
DeleteI am poem Steph Brioukova
ReplyDeleteI am French music flying
I am the one, who knows the secrets,
Of much too long ago
I am the one who knows the night
I am of disorganized books
I am the one, who scares,
I am that one
I am the one who knows the night
I am a mystery novel
I am of judgmental eyes
Two dark holes of hate
I am the one who wears the night
I am a sharp pair of scissors
I am the one, who wears black
For mourning to the world
I am the one you must not know
I love this one! It flows really well and I love the imagery. Good Job!
DeleteIndian Education
ReplyDelete8th Grade
“Open up the letter Amber you’ll like what you see.”
“No, you can’t make me,” I replied back to my math teacher who was eager to see my face expression. It was time to open the high school acceptance letter. The class was excited, jumping, laughing and running. “I got into my first choice,” “Yay, I’m in the same school as you,” filled the classroom. My two best friends already opened their letters with cheers and hugs; they got into the same school. I sat there, with my hands under my thighs, and head laid against the table. The letter was safely tucked and un opened in my desk.
I had a feeling. A sickening feeling. A feeling of being different, left out. A feeling of separation. The feeling that someone gets when the popular kid is handing out birthday invitations in the hallway, stopping every kid they pass and handing them the paper and then walking past you without notice.
Everyone soon opened their letter. Everyone except me. I waited in my chair until there was no one left in the class room except my teacher, and reached for the letter. I held it in the light, like a cashier checking to see if the bill is real. The envelope was see-threw but I couldn’t make out the words. I ripped the envelope open only to find out that I ripped the paper in it too. My eyes zoomed in trying to find out what school I got into, but they only saw the foreign language words.
I finally got to the part of acceptance. The first thing that my brain processed was that I completely failed the specialized high school test. Already off to a bad start. Then I saw it. My heart dropped, and then zoomed into my throat, I felt like I was going to vomit.
My feeling was right.
I thought your piece was great. The moment is very relatable for everyone who has gone through the crazy high school application process...I also loved your language, the metaphors/similes which created vivid images and feelings. You told a story without giving away everything, just like Sherman Alexie.
DeleteI am a city girl,
ReplyDeletei am late nights at the Bowery Poetry Club,
i am graffiti on the bathroom stalls, jake loves ana, i am
thousands of books on the wall, i am
neon lights piercing the dark,
i'm a city girl, i am
big words, what are you saying,
you'll get it when
you're older, ha ha ha, i am
the nico to your velvet underground,
the dark room backstage,
i'm a city girl, i am a
thousand pages, i am
a riot grrrl, i am black nail polish, i am
old damp blues records that smell
like mold, I am the thought
that just slipped your mind,
the words
that escaped your mouth
I really like the imagery in your piece. I could really imagine every line that you wrote. I also really like the descriptive language and sounds and different effects in your piece. Good job :)
DeleteI really like how you didn't follow the exact structure of "Home" but the reader got the same effect. Very creative! (Love the poetry club) :D
DeleteThis is a great "I am.." piece, I love your descriptive lines that make me invests into the poem.I also love the imagery that compliments ur descriptive language, because it makes me feel like I'm living in the moment that your describing. This is flawless :)
DeleteMy Name - Chris Lopez
ReplyDeleteMy name comes from a Greek origin. It means "Bearer of Christ." In English, it has no meaning. It is a neutral name, used by both boys and girls. It was first used in the rise of Christianity and had great prestige. It probably still has its same power.
The name came from my mother. She decided to make a name easily pronounced in both English and Spanish. She didn't want saying my name to be a struggle, so she chose a short name : Chris.
I like my name. I think it describes me well - polite, shy, and respectful. I don't consider myself extrovert, but I make new friends with ease. My name is like a grim day, it is boring and stern. At school, my name is common and I may like to change it. Something like Chris the X would be just right.
Your piece really emulates the tone of Cisneros. Great job! I like your first line: "In Greek, it means...In English, it has no meaning."
DeleteIn eighth grade I started a brand new school in a brand new city. I had a brand new room and a brand new address. A brand new life.
ReplyDeleteMy mom walked with me on the first day of school and I was mortified, but secretly a little bit grateful. Just a little bit. She tried to kiss me on the cheek but I dodged it and bravely walked up the front steps to a brand new building, my school.
My brand new classroom was full of unfamiliar faces and personalities I would later come to love, hate, laugh with, cry with, whisper with, giggle with, argue with, glare at, smile at, roll my eyes at, and remember for the rest of my life. But on that first day, standing in the doorway of my classroom and looking at the people I was about to spend a year with, everyone had a blank slate. And so did I.
Lovely piece, Grace. I love your repetition of "brand new"-- it allows you to show your nervousness without having to say it explicitly. I also like your short sentence to end your piece. It really packs a punch!
DeleteMy mother lived a hard life. She was born when her parents were 18, and her parents married after she was born. Divorced 2 years later, and 2 years after that, her mother, Stephanie, died of an aneurysm. Stephanie, my mother’s mother, was supposedly a nice, caring woman, barely even an adult when she died. Not that my mother would know anything about her. My name fits in to this story. Stephanie to Stephen. My name is a shrine to someone neither I knew, or even my mother knew. Does my mother mourn when reading my name? How can’t she? Maybe it’s hard to mourn over someone you never knew? Am I a shrine or a token of gratitude? These are the type of question you just can’t ask. I constantly debate in my head if it’s even worth it to ask. My own name, which I will keep for the rest of my life, is a mystery to me. I wish I had met Stephanie to know who I was named after. To know what I was named after. I might never understand my own name. Maybe my mom doesn’t even understand it. I will treat it as an honor through all the mystery.
ReplyDeleteWow-- this is an incredible background story to your name. I love the questions that you ask/try to answer in your writing. By asking questions, it emphasizes the mystery surrounding your name. It also suggests that you are still on your path to discovering yourself, like all of us!
DeleteThe Afro Kid
ReplyDeleteMax Burrough
There is no one way to describe me.
I’m always busy and I’m never free.
I’m always trying out new technology.
I have a very, very, strong fear of bees.
Upon my guitar I like to play.
I listen to electronic music night and day.
I find British humor very witty.
Boris and Matilda are my kitties.
Climbing, running, learning to code
When I’ve written strange fiction the words just flowed.
I am the Doctor, a rocker,
Not a sweet talker.
A weirdo, a dream,
A stressed out teen.
The guy who tripped and slid.
The afro kid.
THIS WAS REALLY GOOD. It had a really cool rhythm/rhyming to it. I also liked where you made a new lines; it made it much more impacting!
Deletethis was really good i liked how you rhymed every line to the next,and the poem says a lot about you that people might not know.
DeleteKatya Bakal-Schlomann
ReplyDeleteSeptember 27, 2012
Little Flame
I am the little flame, I am a path to smiles,
I am a road to warmth, I am feet walking miles;
stealing joy and leaving tears.
I am the little flame, I am the cleats that lead to
a goal, I am the speed that relieves worry,
I am the voice of teamwork and celebration.
I am the little flame, I am the breakfast on
Yom Kippur, I am the apples and honey on
Rosh haShana, I am the miracle oil of
Hannukah and the angel of life’s demand on
Passover
I am the little flame, I am still spreading
my branches, I am the river flowing into
the ocean, I am the little flame, waiting to
meet wood.
I am the little flame.
I will never burn out.
Katya-- This is beautiful! I love how you stick to one theme for each stanza, and then each stanza together makes up who you are. I also love the refrain you chose.
DeleteAmani Southerlad; A song
ReplyDeleteI am a song, the light in the bulb,
the energy in the wire,
the air in my hair,
the flat in my tire,
A kiss apon a cheek,
the check every week.
I am a song
Im the lotion in the bottle,
the work in your book,
the text on your phone,
the broken pencil you took,
Im the life of the party,
the stranger in your lobby.
I am a song
your smile, I am.
your clothes, I am.
your looks, I am.
but only you can be you,
I am a song.
Rebecca Gertler
ReplyDeleteMy Name
My name is Rebecca Marion Rosa Gertler. Becca for short. My first name, Rebecca, means to bind, it is after my father’s grandma, my great grandma, someone neither of us knew. When I was little, I hated the name Rebecca. Over the years I’ve grown more fond of Rebecca, but I’ve always thought Rebecca is too serious, too formal, too not me
My whole family (besides my mom), have common names. Names you see in the top 100 most common names year after year. Names that when read out loud come clean and crisp, always pronounced just right, never said wrong. What would life be like if I had a different name? An uncommon, unique name? A name that was just for me that no one else had? Would I stand out more? Would my name always stick in someone’s head? Would it describe me? Would it be the name that when anyone said something that sounded familiar, I would pop into their head?
Your name is like a dress, sometimes it doesn’t fit right, and sometimes it needs to be tweaked and altered but it’s you. Your name is who you are. It sticks with you forever, and even though like the dress, you can change it, you can alter it, you can fix it, you make it your own, it’s what you live with forever. It’s who you are.
I feel like my name fits me well. It’s a name where the nickname gives it a whole new feel. Like I can pick who I am by what I introduce myself by. Rebecca being the serious name, the unfamiliar name, the not me name. Becca being the fun name, the happy name, the me name.
Jenna Lief
ReplyDeleteMy version of “Indian Education”
7TH GRADE:
Ms Orcher, my American teacher, who thought she was Asian because she wore Japanese outfits everyday, was by far the worst teacher I’ve ever had. She hated me and I hated her. I am awful at math and instead of trying to get me to understand it she yelled at me and continuously told me I needed to pay more attention and all that crap. I don’t think there was ever a day that she didn’t give me the evil eye or accuse me of cheating. One day we got into an argument and she screamed and screamed at me until I started crying. A teacher has never made me cry before which says something about Ms. Orcher. She took me into the hallway and brought out every star student in my class and compared them to me, one by one. That day was the first day I started to hate her. Another day came and I was still doing awfully in her class. To make herself feel of higher power then me, she told me that I wouldn’t get into Bronx Science, and there was nothing I could say back to her without getting in trouble. Last March, when I got my high school letter, I immediately went to her room and proved her wrong, hahahahahahah.
Stephanie Ologan
ReplyDeleteIndian Education
Fourth Grade:
I hear a loud whistle blowing and I know she's near. I stand up along with a few of my classmates but the rest of the class doesn't know that she's standing there or pretend not to notice. She waits there, trying to get the attention of the whole class but fails.
"You don't want lunch?" she screams.
And then everybody gets up because they know she's losing her patience. But she walks away to call another table onto the lunch line and we sit back down and watch the rain from the window.
Two days later......
We have detention in the lunchroom today. When we finally get called onto the lunch line, all that is left is dry chicken and cold corn. I push my food away and look out the window. It's still raining.......
I am soccer,
ReplyDeleteI am baseball,
I am football,
I am sports,
I am philly cheesesteaks and bacon egg and cheeses on a cold winter day,
I am Mets games with my Dad on the late weeknights,
I am the delicious combination of Steak and A1 sauce,
I am eating wings and watching a football game with my Uncle,
I am saturdays when you can sleep in as late as you like,
I am licking the leftover warm chocolate cake batter from the bowl,
I am the perfect shot that curves into the back of the net,
I am the loud crack of the bat as ball meets wood,
In other words....I AM ME!
Chris, I really like this. It really portrays you!!
DeleteMy real name, Natalia, sounds funny to me. When I was younger, my family always called me Natalia, mostly if I was in trouble or someone was calling me from afar. But once I hit kindergarten, all the horrible tykes started calling me, "na-TALL-ya." Since I was the tallest girl in elementary school, NaTALLya stuck. I wanted to skin the genius who came up with that. My nickname, Natalie, which I go by today, is okay, but it isn't my favorite name in the world. When my mother was 13, she lived in the Dominican Republic. She used to watch her favorite soap opera, and low and behold the character she adored was named Natalia. Originally, I was suppose to be a boy- Nathan. But after 4 girls, and the last one (me!), coming out as female, Natalia it was and that ended my mother's want to have a son. Natalia doesn't accurately explain who I am. Even though I've been told its unique and different, I would much rather prefer a different name that I wouldn't mind be nicknamed too...as long as its not dumb like NaTALLya.
ReplyDeletei really liked your piece, i loved how the way you wrote this, made it feel like you were talking to the reader. Also i liked how you were able to put the reader in your shoes.
DeleteI really enjoyed your piece. I also really liked how you gave us a lot of information about your name, and I also liked how you added humorous sentences it made me enjoy your piece even more.
DeleteMy Name
ReplyDeleteMy name doesn’t mean a lot. It had two syllables, 6 letters, not so much meaning into it. When I think or hear my name, I think of small, shy, not outgoing. Hidden. But I do have lots of confidence in myself and what I do. When people say my name, they think of happy, always smiling, always in an up mood. Something that is pleasant to hear. But I have a story too.
I see my name as simple and normal. I love how it is spelled and don’t want to change it. But sometimes simple is good. In the end, I know that it represents ME and no one else. And that’s all that matters.
ReplyDeleteI am the essence of the 2 train
when the train comes to a squeaking stop
when a mother holds onto her child
making sure her little muffin doesn't
wander off
I am the essence of the two train,
i am the power to your weakness
the penny to your dollar
I listen to Frank Ocean loud enough for everyone to
hear
When I step off the 2 train I feel at home
Everyone in the neighborhood
knows eachother,
I see everyone being friendly in the corner
laughing and talking in the soothing language
of spanish
I am the essence of the 2 train
where I get lost but, always find my way back
I am the freedom to your weakness,
the beat to your song
the wild horse that prances around the meadows
I am the essence of the 2 train
my Bronx
I really like how you used something like the 2 train, which could seem boring to the naked eye, and tore it down and showed how muuch it meant to you and what it meant to live in the bronx. I like how alive you made the train feel and you created vivid pictures with your writing.
DeleteI loved the way you described every single little moment in the story of the poem. I could here the "ding dong" as the subway doors close as you walked off. You used language that used a lot of imagery where i could see you walking onto the platform and hear people talking in spanish and that was really powerful. Also the 2 train being just part of your commute, something a lot of people over look, but you take the train almost every day so it is such a big and small part of your life where you experience so much. Great job on expressing what the 2 train was to you.
DeleteI really liked how you used descriptive language to describe taking the two train from your perspective. I feel like as the reader I can see what you see and re-live the moment myself. Its a really good piece!
DeleteI Am
ReplyDeleteI am the stray drip of a pen, i am
the dust that splatters when charcoal hits parchment, i am extra
marks on a standardized test, i am the wrong color
pencil that's accidently used mid piece, i am
the ugly stickers that litter lamp posts, i am
the stray drip of a pen, i am
a smudge on a new paper, i am puke-green
paint, i am a torn corner on a finished
project, due in mere minutes,
i am
the stray drip of a pen, i am
a sharpie which turns Saharan mid word, i am
contemporary art, the purpose of the eraser
Rosie-- I loved hearing this in class, and I'm glad you chose to post it on the blog. You stick to a great theme here, and the metaphor speaks volumes about who you are: all of the perfection in your imperfections :).
Delete“Cohu! Cohu!” I recall my mother screaming at me in Albanian to get up. It was my first day of kindergarten and I rapidly got dresses and prepared for the first day to my never-ending education. As my mom held my hand tightly, we walked into my class. “WELCOME TO ROOM K-101” was written, if I may say dully, across the chalkboard. Then came forward my teacher.
ReplyDelete“Great.” I thought to myself. She was a middle-aged woman with glasses and a larger than life smile. She greeted my mother and allowed her to stay with the rest of the parents for the first 20 minutes of class. As I was appointed to my seat, I met, who would later be my arch-nemesis, Claudia. Her blonde hair was swiftly wrapped in two perfect pigtails, but was no match for my party hair and purple bedazzled hairband. I seated myself next to her as a picture of a cartoon bear and a box of crayons was placed before me.
I mean, I never liked to brag, but coloring was one of my best assets. I colored everything enthusiastically and perfectly. As Ms. Frustino told us to start, I knew my mom was going to be a proud parent in about 10 minutes. As I drew the brown crayon from the box, I saw Claudia, along with my fellow classmates, begin coloring. “NO!” I thought to myself. “WHAT IS SHE DOING?” Claudia was ferociously and aggressively coloring her bear with every Crayola crayon she could possibly lay her fingers on. Coloring isn’t even the correct word. It was more of scribbles and ugly lines. ‘What’s wrong with these people,’ I wondered. Everyone knows all bears are brown with pink ears and green eyes.
As I finished, my teacher was more than satisfied with my work. I mean it truly was perfection. I was thinking about even calling Webster Dictionary and telling them to rethink their definition. I mean, my coloring was all in the lines. But then again, sometimes I accidentally crossed them just a bit…just a bit…
I really think how you captured the moment of when Claudia began scribbling outside the lines and you began to freak out. It shows how kindergarteners think when they are little and its really good :)
DeleteI am the essence of myself. I am an Irishman condemned to speak in another man's tongue, I am as complicated as complication itself, I am someone in a world separated from the one I belong to.
ReplyDeleteI am the essence of myself. I am a challenger of stereotypes, I am a king and a conqueror, I am a unique character without such recognition.
I am the essence of myself. I am a rocket waiting to take off, I am aware of where i originated yet I still wonder where i come from, I am a poet and I know it.
I am the essence of myself. I am one who underestimates his own capabilities, I am like a metaphor for Ireland, I am one with a hidden personality, I am Connor O'Rourke- By Connor O'Rourke, 9th grade, B band.
Connor-- Lovely job! My favorite lines: "I am an Irishman condemned to speak in another man's tongue," and "I am a king and a conquerer." So great!
DeleteSamantha Ramirez
ReplyDeleteBand B
It's a typical day in school, bland and boring as usual. I was in ELA, doing whatever work was on the board and the teacher, Ms. Cartwright, places a paper upside down on my desk. I flip it over discreetly and it was my essay I had written a few days ago. In bright neon pink ink a hundred was scripted, with a smiley face on the side.
"What you got? Huh? Lemme see!" I hear shouted behind me. I pass my paper back to a group of annoying, chatterbox girls. "Oh wow, pleeeeaseeeeeee! You're such a show off!" The demons shout as they throw my paper back, landing far from my seat. I hear murmering comments like "Nerd. Braniac. She's so stupid."
"YES I AM." I shouted back. Some weird kid passed me my paper from the floor, with nothing to say.
No more murmers. No more murmers.
Samantha-- I love this. You really throw us into the scene here. I know this is an essential moment for you because of the transformation you show when you stand up to these "demons." The "YES I AM" moment is so important. I also like your repetition at the end of your piece.
Delete4th grade
ReplyDeleteI was in class sitting and listening like any other good student of my age. Suddenly through the door comes a big man that walks to the middle of the classroom. He is sweating bullets and you can see it raining all over his forehead and in the back of his neck. He is as red as a red pepper all over his face and neck. His handkerchief is no help, not at all.
I smiled and giggled at his appearance it surprised me. He stood there and began to stutter before he was able to speak. I could see my teacher at the corner with a smirk on his face and whispering something to two other women. No matter how nervous and funny looking this man was, the words that came out his mouth were amazing!
He talked about Yale University, how he attended it, how amazing it was, how diverse, how the campus was, how it was to be there! It didn’t really matter the way he looked; I just knew that at that moment the words he spoke to me were music to my ears. He spoke the words of truth and at that moment I couldn’t stop from thinking that someday that could be me.
I really like how your piece starts in 4th grade and ends thinking about your future. I also like how you put emphasis on certain ideas like this: His handkerchief is no help, not at all.
DeleteKatya
I liked how you talked about the man's appearance but also your thoughts on what he was saying.
DeleteHome
ReplyDeleteI am the soul of the Big Apple, I am
the A train I’ve been taking
back and forth my entire life,
I am the dark and vast
urban jungle, I am
shameless jaywalking
across glass and gum strewn streets.
I am the soul of the Big Apple, I am
the bright lights and sweet voices
on the Broadway breeze, I am
the brief sanctuary of Central Park,
I am a soft brown pretzel
encrusted with too much salt.
I am the soul of the Big Apple, I am
the team stumbling through the season
and the one with 27 rings, I am
the rush and grandeur of Times Square,
I am the puddle of frappucchino on the sidewalk
giving the pigeons a rare treat.
I am the soul of the Big Apple, I am
one in a seemingly soulless crowd,
I am the hope of a thousand
young dreamers, I am the wonder
that stirs in your heart
when you see that famous skyline.
The imagery you used was incredible. I really could relate to everything you said because I also live in manhattan. Each sentence planted an image in my head. I loved the line where you talked about the warm pretzel with too much salt. I cant even count the number of times i have gotten a pretzel with way too much salt. I also thought your ending was incredible.
DeleteShoshana Bressman
ReplyDeleteI am the pulse of New York City, I am
the silent crowd on a subway at 8:30 in the morning, I am
the overpriced coffee sold at Starbucks,
I am the business people hurrying to get to work,
their shoes clacking as they beat against the sidewalk.
I am the pulse of New York City, I am
the J-walkers on Broadway, I am the yellow
cabs that rush along the streets, I am
the dress in the window
of a fashionable clothing shop.
I am the pulse of New York City,
I am a trampled white clover weed in Riverside Park, I am
the monkey bars in a playground,
I am the smart phones
in the hands of exhausted MTA passengers.
I am the pulse of New York City, I am
a homeless person, jingling my cup of coins
on the street, hoping someone will help me,
I am the city that never sleeps,
I am the belief
that dreams will come true.
I really liked how you put a lot of detail it really created a picture in my head. It was really really good very descriptive!
DeleteGrace Sperling 9-26-12
ReplyDelete9th English/Ms. Kaufman “Home” emulation
I am the essence of a teenager, I am hard to awken,
I am the thumps of feet walking up and down the subway stairs,
I am a person shoved on the train being hit with Bloomingdales big, medium, and small browm bags, I am Godzilla accidently hitting people on the train.
I am the essence of a teenager, I am addicted to coffee, I am like a five year old
running out of school for lunch, I am the laughter and crumbs of lunchtime,
I am the junk food that people consider a meal.
I am the essence of a teenager, I am all the words flying on my looseleaf paper,
I am the afterschool clubs and sports, I am the screams and cheers when the home team scores,
I am the creamy rich chocolate brownie selling out to help a cause.
I am the essence of a teenager, I am the cellphone beeping every minute,
I am the person trying to keep in touch with old friends, I am part of the cray, wild, hilarious adventures with my closest ones, I am the laughter and jokes echoing from the bridge in Central Park. I am NYC which is what I love most about my life
I love how you really capture the essence of being a teenager!!! You also used awesome descriptions of NYC :)
DeleteMalika Nicholson
ReplyDeleteEnglish
9/29/12
My Name
My name is Malika Eugenia Antoine-Nicholson. My name comes from the Arabic origin and it means queen. Eugenia is a bizarre middle name, so when some people ask me if I have a middle name I just mumble yes. My friends use to chuckle and make fun of it. Until the day I told them that my aunt who my mom took the name from recently died, after that the never mentioned it again. Antoine is my moms last name, she says since she actually made me she would like some part of her name to be in my name. I always say to her you named my first, and middle name plus I would rather just have one last name. Nicholson is my dad last name and I’m perfectly fine with that one. Overall I’m happy with my name because it could be worse. For example I had a friend whose first was simple Kyra but her last name was tricky and annoying is was Schröder-Weiß know ever knew how to pronounce it so when they said Kyra she would cut them off and say I’m here.
Malika-- I love how I can really get a sense of you and your Mom's humorous personalities from this poem. I like the part where you write, "She says since she actually made me, she would like some part of her name to be in my name."
DeleteAmy Arellano
ReplyDelete9th grade English/Ms.K
My Name
My name is Amy, just plain old Amy. It originated from France, it means beloved. I qanat named after anyone, my dad heard it in a movie, liked it and thought it was original...original? I think it's far from original. How can it be original when there are about hundred other people with my name. Besides I don't think that our name makes us unique. It's more of the choices and decisions we make that set us apart from the person next to us. Even if my name isn't that special I would change it. It's simple like me. It's easy to spell and pronounce. It's not complicated I would hate having a long and complicated name, three letters it just perfect. I was named Amy for a reason there isn't much I can do about it...
This makes me want to hear more about this French movie that you were named after!
DeleteEsmeralda Rosario
ReplyDeleteBand B
"Home"
I am La Flacka , I am
that bird that wakes you up in the morning.
I am that planato frito con salami,
I am that Batacha on blast.
I am La Flacka, I am
that old lady talking too fast,
I am that maid that cleans to much,
I am that bottle of burgal that everyone needs once in a while.
I am La Flacka, I am the
dancer that moves her hips to much,
I am that solo guitar in an Anthony Santos song,
I am that hard to say good bye but the worst to welcome.
I am La Flacka, I am the eyes in which you see,
I am the lint on your socks,
I am that wall you put all your pain in but never collapse.
I really enjoyed reading this poem. I especially loved how you repeated the phrase "I am La Flacka , I am..." Not only did this poem show me about your personality, but about your culture as well. Another thing I liked about this piece was how I was able to connect to it, mixed in with the cultural things, you put small details that a teenager would be able to recognize and connect to.
DeleteWendy Martinez
ReplyDeleteBand B/ 9th grade English
My Name
There is no reasonable reason on why my name was given to me. As a child I didn't really like it either. I wanted to be named something more Spanish like, because I thought it would represent my nationality and set me aside as being more unique. I remember telling my father I preferred the name Margarita. Realizing now that I wanted to be named after a drink. I told myself that someday I’ll change my name, maybe once I turned eighteen.
As I grew older I started to question my name even more. My friends always referred Wendy as an Asian name; they’d say it suit me because I looked Asian as a little girl. Knowing now that the name Wendy is actually English. My mother once told me my name was originally supposed to be Evelyn, but since my cousin was born a week before me they named her Emelly and the names sounded too much alike. Once I was around eleven or twelve when I actually started to like my name, I began noticing that Wendy does suit me best. Throughout the years my sister would call me Wednesday and my friends would call me Wen, Wendilla, or Weny.
Thinking about it I don’t think I would ever change my name. I grew to love it; I believe it represents me better than Evelyn just because the name Wendy seems more fun to say and because I haven’t met any Hispanics with my name, it makes me unique in a way. I guess I should thank my father for picking it out. What I wish I did have is a middle name because my sister has one and most of my friends do too. To me it just sounds fluent and ties up the name together. That’s why when I have children of my own someday; I’ll make sure they each have one something like Jacob Alexander or perhaps Sophia Rose.
Wendy-- I love your first line. It really draws the reader in, "There is no reasonable reason why my name was given to me." We're left wondering why. Also, I love your description of your questioning process. Having an English name, but wanting it to sound more Spanish is an interesting quandary when discovering ourselves and who we are!
DeleteYvonne Asante-Ebu
ReplyDeleteB Band
Home
I am different, I am
the chocolate to your vanilla,
i am the moon to your sun.
I am different, i am
the motorcycle to your car,
i am the blue to your red.
I am different, i am
the night to your day,
you are the day to my night.
I am different, i am
unique, i am optimistic, i am
curious, i am human.
Matthew Baldwin
ReplyDeleteI AM Poem
I am basketball, trait from my family. From the love of the game, and a job. I'm in the winter with shorts and a T-shirt shooting hoops.
I am basketball, thinking of it 24/7, swish of the hoop,shoes skidding, jumping, diving, through the legs, behind the back, spinning to score.
I am basketball, final second on the clock,just trying to get a shot off. cry after big loses, cheering after wins.
I Am Basketball
Ngan Trac
ReplyDeleteB Band/9th grade English
I am a hermit crab
searching the world
for a shell to call home
I am a single letter
in a long infamous poem.
I am the big baby
who takes on the world by herself
I am too little too big
to accomplish any real command.
I am a yellow rock
in the bottom of a sea
I don't say much
but don't underestimate me.
I am an ordinary girl
I am a dream you don't admit
I am the substitute of what you miss
cause you're too afraid to speak the truth.
Ngan-- I love all of the paradoxes you've presented here. My favorite line is: "I don't say much, but don't underestimate me." This is so great, and really reflects the rest of the poem. Great job!
DeleteStefan Blair
ReplyDeleteWhen I was born, I was named Stefan Blair, after a man who saved my Grandmother during the holocaust. My Grandmother lived in Poland, in a Jewish Ghetto. The Nazi’s were loading Jews into trains to ship them off to Camps. My Grandmother was trying to board one of those trains, but the train was to high up, and she couldn’t reach. The Nazi’s were beating and killing people who couldn’t make it on to the train. Then, across the platform, she heard someone calling her. She looked, and saw Stefan, who she knew from the hospital where she worked. She went to him, and he reached out and pulled her up onto the train. Throughout the rest of the train ride, they sat together, keeping each other happy.
I believe that my name stands for someone who was brave and strong in the face of the Nazi’s. Often, when I am scared, think of him. I picture him holding out his hand to lift my Grandmother away from the Nazis, and trying to bring comfort to someone who was most likely going to be killed. I let these thoughts turn into bravery, into the thought that I have his name, and that his courage passes on from him to me through that.
When I was younger, I did not understand the meaning of my name, and thought that it was stupid. I would have traded anything for a name that I thought was better. But later in life, I realized why I was named Stefan, and from that point forward, I loved my name. I loved it, because it motivated me to become stronger, and made me who I am today.
Wow. Well written and really tense stuff. The fact that this story made it and was passed through the generations is really important. This is a lot more of a significant child naming then others. The majority just get a name because it sounds good or has some little meaning in the family but your name is named after sentimental stories. Nicely written.
DeleteLeo Lambert
ReplyDeleteSecond Grade
To this day I will be always reminded. Scared for life because of one day in second grade. Actually that day started out good, some might say great. Everything was normal until I walked into my english class. I was seated next to the worst girl in the entire school. She picked for gold every class and always ate them right in front of my face. Worst of all she had cooties. All my friends would make fun of me for having the cooties because I sat next to her. I had to say “circle circle dot dot now I have the cootie shot” and I would always have to remember to keep my fingers crossed or else the shot wouldn’t work. It was torture. Although this one day it was particularly worse. She was calling me names and touching me, and the whole time the teacher didn’t see a thing or say a word. This got me so frustrated I let my nerves get to me. I didn’t know what my plan was when I picked up my newly sharped pencil but at the time I guess I didn’t care. So I swung the pencil at full force at this girl…but missed. The next thing I know my hand felt a sharp pain and I started crying. Now the teacher started to look, I didn’t want her help but she thought I needed it. As I’m clutching my hand in agony, my sister suddenly appears with great looks of sorrow. Nothing stopped her from rushing to me, or from holding me and telling me it’s alright. She wasn’t disappointed, but confused. If only she knew.
To this day I will be always reminded. Scared for life because of one day in second grade. And to remember this moment, all I have to do is just look at my hand, and the memory thats trapped in it.
I love how you told the story! It was very descriptive and it brought me back to when you were in second grade. I like how you mentioned specific details such as the cootie shot and how you friends would make fun of you. There was also humor, although it wasn't supposed to be a happy moment. The repetition in the end was also great. :)
Delete7,107 Islands
ReplyDeleteI am the heart of fiestas, I am blinding color
in the bright light, I am loud horns
during jam-packed traffic, I am invisible
within crowds of
strangers frantically going places
I am the heart of fiestas, I am
glued to my books, I am gum
stuck to the desk, I am love
to a newborn baby who cries
endlessly, longing for care
I am the heart of fiestas, I am
gifts during Christmas, I am the boom
in car speakers, I am subtraction
to addition, standing out and catching attention
I am the heart of fiestas, I am
Gatorade during halftime, I am
adrenaline rushing while kicking a goal, I am
a flash drive with never ending memory
learning lessons as I go
Michaela-- I love your refrain in this poem. Keep going with this theme-- it's very Sherman Alexie, especially the last line "never ending memory learning lessons as I go..."
DeleteMary Higgins
ReplyDeleteI Hebrew, my name means ‘sea of bitterness and rebellion’. My name shows up frequently in my family. It has a sentimental feel to it, the thought of being named after generations of great women. The Hebrew definition of my name describes me in a sentence. It reflects who I am, and where I come from. I am Irish, and Mary is a very common Irish name. If I were given the option of chaining my name, I never would. It feels as if my parents knew what I was going to be like as a baby, out of my family, I am the most outgoing. As if in a normal sea, I am the one that stands out to other people as the rebel. My name describes me, my family, and where I come from and I would never change it for the world.
Mary-- I love the Hebrew definition of your name: "sea of bitterness and rebellion." Keep exploring how Mary is both "common" and also "rebellious"-- this is a very cool juxtaposition that might shed insight into who you are, too! I also like your acknowledgement of all of the important women in your family.
DeleteShayne Coplan:
ReplyDeleteShayne. I was always a fan of my name due to its originality. Shane is a popular name but I took pride in having my name spelled differently. The oldest memory I have of my name was during elementary school. The teacher asked about our names and if any of us knew what they meant. The name Shayne means God’s gracious gift; or atleast that was what I was told from my parents. I raised my hand and said that what my understanding of my name was. Other kids made jokes and said that Shayne doesn’t actually mean that, or that I was named wrong. The teachers didn’t know the true meaning either so they ignored the controversy between my classmates and me. Although my recollection of this period of time in my life isn’t great I can guess that I probably believed what my classmates said. Due to my young age I believed all the lies of my classmates and felt like I had a bad name and wanted a knew one. Drake was a name I always wanted. I thought it was a cool name. There was a TV show I watched when I was younger where one of the characters was named Drake. I always thought he was cool.
Although I wasn’t satisfied with my name as I got older my opinion changed. I liked how my name wasn’t popular and that I was the only person in the world named Shayne Coplan. Sure I’ve had to introduce my self as Shayne with a y or Shayne spelled S,H,A,Y,N,E but I’ve liked having a name that is not typical. Now I feel like my name describes me well, I’d like to think of myself as creative and original. I feel like my name goes well with my personality and characteristics.
Although I wasn’t named after anyone specifically, two months before I wsas born my mothers Grandmother passed away. Her name was Sibel. In honor of her I was named with an S as the first letter of my first name.
Even though people misspell my name frequently I like how my name isn’t so generic and common.
I am the hustle and bustle of the New York day,
ReplyDeleteI am the man on the corner with many things to say
I am the high heels clicking
The thick clogs clocking
All the feet walking
And all the mouths talking
I am, Oy Vey!
So short for my age,
And Oy Vey!
I belong on the stage
I’m a shtick
I’m a schmuck
I’m a babbling duck
I’m reckless but cautious
I’m verbally nauseous
I am running through the street, late for school
Where am I going? This isn’t cool…
I am a crispy latke simmering in the pan
I am just a short boy, and half of a man
Oscar-- You know I love the "Oy Vey!" Reading this poem, I'm also reminded how much I like the rhythm of it and its rhyme. This is a skill: to rhyme but to not have the focus on rhyming diminish or take away from the meaning and tone. Great job!
DeleteI am the shelter for your body, I am
ReplyDeleteSheet for your bed, I am
The pen for your notebook, I am
Ink for your pen, which scribbles down
The essays for school.
I am the shelter for your body, I am
The controller for your video game, I am
The hair roller for your suit, I am
The loose-leaf for your binder with the other
Countless pieces
I am the shelter for your body, I am
An escape from pressure, I am
The comic for your collection, I am
The battery for your phone which does not
Die often
I am the shelter for body, I am
The temple of your imagination I, am
An essay in a folder, I am
The earth for the Milky Way, and the milky way
For the universe
Nayan! I love this. My favorite line is: "I am the temple of your imagination." I wonder if you could explore this theme...
DeleteI really like your poem. I think it really shows what is important to you at this stage in your life. My favorite line is I am the comic for your collection because it could so easily have many meanings.
DeleteI Am New York City
ReplyDeleteby Rebecca Karpen
I am the nine million faces
I am the dirty sidewalks
I am the metal monster that swallows you whole and spits you out somewhere new
I am the skyscrapers.
I am the smog filled air
I am the immaculate brownstones
I am the homeless man who hits your bumper with a thermos after you don't give him change in the middle of traffic
I am the Unisphere.
I am the Times Square lights
I am the Rockefeller Center Christmas tree
I am the Soho, the Noho, the Tribeca
I am the Intrepid, bold and proud.
I am the cyclone, roaring and creaking
I am the subway rats, scurrying and squeaking
I am the pigeons, not flying away
I am not flying away because I have nowhere else to stay.
I liked how you used various descriptions to convey the message of your poem, great work!
DeleteLove the way you use your details not only to describe New York, but to add humor to the piece. Maybe I'd suggest adding a bit of depth to it to get the reader emotionally invested more. Yes it's about New York but make it relate to you in some way too! Just a suggestion. Nonetheless great work!
DeletePeeking through the viewer of my camera, I look down at the Grand Canyon. It’s incredibly beautiful and colorful, but I’m not one to forget how deep and dangerous it is, either.
ReplyDelete“Come on, hold my hand, sweetie! We don’t want you to fall off the edge, do we?” The whispers of nervous parents filled the dry air. I could almost feel the anxiety and excitement of everyone around me.
I’m about to press the shutter and take a picture when I lose my step. I trip, slip, and slide a few feet away from where I was before. That is, a few feet closer to the several-mile drop of the Grand Canyon. Any closer, and I would’ve slid off the edge; we all know there’s no surviving that.
The picture did come out good, though.
I guess sometimes you have to make sacrifices for the things you love.
Kara- I love your imagery in this piece. Your first line paints such an amazing picture "peeing through the viewer of the camera..." So cool! Also, I love your Sherman Alexie-esque ending!
DeleteI am from England, from Trinidad and Brooklyn.
ReplyDeleteI am from the delicious Caribbean meals and English tea-time.
I am from the Chaconia, the flower that blooms on every Independence Day of Trinidad.
I am from waking up at midnight to open Christmas presents and eating pastelles from Mimi and Gramps.
I am from humor and intelligence.
From two wrongs don’t make a right and treat others as you would like to be treated.
I am from believing in God but not following any particular religion.
I am from Brooklyn, England and Trinidad... I am from baked beans and roti.
From the shores of Guyana where my grandfather sailed from to England, the bright colors of Trinidad Carnival that my mom introduced me to and the British accent of my father.
I am from family albums, vacation videos, collected seashells and treasured memories.
I love how you've juxtaposed England and Trinidad-- "Caribbean means and English tea-time." This is really unique and really YOU! Perhaps this could also serve to structure the piece as a whole. I also love you're use of expressions "Two wrongs don't make a right..."
DeleteThe crazy abnormal me by Ana Fonseca
ReplyDeleteI'm not the normal type.
I like walking barefoot in the street.
I go to the bakery with my pajamas.
I read magazines from last to the front.
I eat dessert before dinner.
I think I have an indivisible crown on top of my head.
I talk to my dog in multiple languages.
I cry for no reason.
I tend to forget.
I laugh at the silence.
I exchanged my days to the nights.
I eat meat even though I am Buddhist.
I think I am just a book without words, or
maybe an elevator without an apartment.
I'm the the wardrobe with no clothes.
The flowers without petals.
The person with no shadow.
I'm the samba under your sole.
The dislikes under your tongue.
The languages never spoken.
The songs never written.
The sunrise in another world.
I'm the crazy abnormal me, or maybe
the abnormal crazy me.
I am who I am
ReplyDeleteI am pasta, the
cake in the oven
The giant scary monster in your nightmares,
Your best friend
I am the one who wields the hammer,
The building blocks constantly being rebuilt
I am the baby in your memory,
the teenager in the photos
I am me.
The stubborn child on a time out
The you're smart yet why do you do that?
The sit still for two minutes
I am the would marry pasta if she could
With shadows for a past,
And shadows for a family,
I am who I am,
And I am me
I am…
ReplyDeleteNaz Deryaoglu
I am many small and wondrous sounds.
I am the whimsical music you hear on a merry-go-round.
I am the luscious sounds of long flowing streams.
I am the whistles of baby humming birds.
I am the cries of a newborn baby.
I am many small and wondrous sounds.
I am the roar of waterfalls.
I am the piercing engine of a motorcycle.
I am the screeching sounds of tires.
I am the howl of starving wolves.
I am many small and wondrous sounds.
I am the sounds of rustling leaves in Autumn.
I am the powerful chanting of large crowds.
I am the volume of a stereo blasting music.
I am the sighs of disappointment.
Hi Naz! I love your piece! It sounds very intelligent, and makes me think deeply on what you mean when you give away those incredible metaphors. Thank you for sharing!
DeleteShahob Newman
ReplyDeleteBut Not Unheard.
I am the pebble that toppled the tower
I am the kindling of the sun
The last intoxicating droplet
The epitaph of immortality
I am the dirge of men unborn.
I am the worm who caught the fish
I am the loose sting on you sleeve
The gears that turn time
The curtain in front of the man
I am widower of mice
I am the floor beneath your untied shoe
The ugly goose in a flock of swans
The leaf that slumped the tree
That hssss in the radiator, the quiet after the storm, the words that you didn’t think to speak but kept inside any way. That is me. But I am not unheard.
Edit:
Delete"The loose string on your sleeve"
I am...
ReplyDeleteSabine Janssen
I am the refection you see on water, still looking back,
I am the words you would have liked to say, if you had the chance,
I am I am a child that wants to continue playing,
I am a bird who migrates back to its origin,
I am a song, with old lyrics,
I am the dark that stays on when the lights go out,
I am a sky, with no end,
I am a person running in circles, thinking they are in the same place but unaware of the change in time,
I am a memory, that never happened,
I am a never forgotten sent,
I am a number trying to be its self, with out changing to a second digit, I am a clock with no time.
I really like how you used Sherman Alexie's way of "giving away a part of you." "I am a number trying to be its self, with out changing to a second digit," I loved this metaphor. It shows how you are trying to be unique and remain true to yourself.
DeleteMy name is Henry which means ruler of the estate or ruler of the home. The meaning seems to fit since there were eight kings of England named Henry and those eight kings all ruled England. My name doesn't fit me though. I don’t rule much of anything. I wasn't named after any of the kings of England. Actually I wasn't named after anyone or anything, but I wish I had been. If I were named after someone it would give the name character and bring it to life. It would also make my name meaningful to me. If I were named after a person with a sad life, like Esperanza’s great grandmother from My Name, I wouldn’t worry about trying to not live like they did; instead I would try to learn from their mistakes. I would try to rewrite the life so that when my name was mentioned no one would think of the person with the sad life, but they would think of my great life. Even though I wish I were named after somebody I wouldn't change my name given the opportunity. I have grown too attached to my name. And, also no other name would sound right to me. After being called Henry for fourteen years if people started calling me Ben or any other name it just wouldn't feel right. From writing this I have realized that I don’t need a story behind my name, I can create my own.
ReplyDeleteI love how funny and ironic you make your name sound, and I especially LOVE your last sentence and it leaves the reader on an ambiguous note.
DeleteI am music.
ReplyDeleteI am car horns and brakes,
I am brown water splashed in your face.
I am accents and anger.
I am the wrong, and right, answer.
I am music.
I am bacon softly sizzling in your senses.
I am guitars, pens, claps, grunts, stomps and whistles, relentless.
I am music.
I am a crowd of 8.3 million, Saturday Night Live, and light switches untouched.
I am planes rides while your hand are clutched.
I am music.
I am river rapids rushing over rocks.
I am a big blue ocean booming and crashing into your soul’s ticking clock.
This is such a pretty piece and I love the imagery. I love your comparisons, they are very original and beautiful.
DeleteMy name means bird... as in duck. My name can also be represented as Penelope. Where I come from my name isn't traditional at all. In fact, my grandfather had to fight for my name for it to be a "traditional name".
ReplyDeleteGuillar. (g-ee-lar) it sounds really funny but I love it. A lot of people ask me why i just dont have people call me Penelope but i guess I just like this name better. Plus, I have lots of nick names. LIke Guitar or Guill. My name is so unique that i even have a certificate that says i was the first person to ever have this name.
I feel extremely different with my name, like its the only thing my sister can't steal or copy from me. My name is something no one else can have and i guess i can say i respect that about my name.
I like how this is almost a "My Name" and and "I Am" piece. Through explaining the history of your name, you explained your life. Nice job.
ReplyDeleteEscape
ReplyDeleteCan't I go to a place,
where I can feel safe?
In a peaceful state,
where I can hear the waves break,
away from the heartache,
and the feeling of being a fake,
where nothing is at stake,
because I am opaque
to everyone but myself,
no one knows me,
only I do,
so for god's sake,
can I go to a place
where everything in my life
doesn't feel like a mistake?
I really like this peom I can tell something about that I didnt know. But also that under the person we think there is another perosn.
DeleteHi Thomas! I love the way you combined the words together, and added details to your poem. It actually made a scenario in my head, and it also made me learn a little bit about yourself. Great job.
DeleteTHIS IS SO GOOD. i love the way you talk about life as a whole.
DeleteI am Poem
ReplyDeleteI am the wheels on a skateboard, I am the swift kick
of a soccer ball, and the lunge of a blade,
I am the kinder shokolade that I devour in Germany, I am
the presents under the dark green christmas tree and
the candy in the pillowcase on halloween night.
I am the ticking of an alarm clock as it strikes 12
o'clock and I am still up working on my hw, my eyelids
feel like their lifting weights to stay open, I am the screeching the halt of the
F train, I am the crisp sound of a page in a comic book turning, I am
the wheels of a skateboard, I am the never ending wave for the NY Mets,
I am the engine of plane roaring to life as my family and I lift off into
the baby blue sky.
I am the kid who has to strive past the obstacles
and into the possibilities, I am the kid who has to practice
to make perfect, I am the rolling wheels
on a skateboard.
Samantha Ramirez
ReplyDeleteBand B
"I kept thinking about Jane, and about Stradlater having a date with her and all. It made me so nervous I nearly went crazy. I already told you what a sexy bastard Stradlater was." page 34
This line stood out to me most because it was amazing how the author portrays this new feeling of jealously out of Holden. It's not like any other jealously you'll read out of a ordinary novel, it's very different and unique. It's got some sense of humor and envy mixed inbetween these few choice of words, and it made me think how Holden must feel, having to write this report for a guy who's going on a date with a girl he seems to have history with. The way he acted immediately after Stradlater said his name showed a sense of mixed emotions, and this line clears up all of that to jealousy. This is why this line stood out to me so much.
Why is caufield still worring about this jane?
ReplyDeleteI thnk holden might previously had some other connection then just maybe "friends". There was probably something that led up to them being friends, and if holden is worrying about her this much, maybe they haven't seen each other recently, because he's at boarding school and all. Though what I really think is what's that holden's jealous of stradlater. I think maybe he and jane might have been a couple at some point or even just really good friends, and je doesn't want really anybody to get in the way of that or tangle up the bond between him and Jane.
Matthew Baldwin
ReplyDelete“Just to stop lying. Once I get started, I can go on for hours if I feel like it. No kidding. Hours.”
I just think that he is over reaction way too much. He can’t lie for hours and hours, and if he can that is really bad, he just strings lies together. Like when he was on the train. He was talking to the woman on the train who was the mother of a kid that he hated that went to the school he went to. He also said his name was the name of the janitor at the school, instead of his own. But to top it off, he said that he had a brain tumor and that he was having surgery, and that is why he was going home, instead of getting kicked out.
This lying problem is a really big problem!!!!1
"I swear to god you'd like her." Holden says about his ten year old angel of a sister Phoebe. I love this line because he says it repeatedly. Any moment in the book where he opens up to the reader, revealing a part of his inner self is priceless. And there are many of those moments in this book which is part of the reason I love it. God does Holden love his sister. This is such a sad and beautiful moment. He's in such a lonely state, in need of someone to talk to, especially someone he loves and appreciates. Someone REAL, like his little sister. Though he knows he can't risk calling her so he just goes on and on about how amazing she is. He's lost everyone he really connects with, he's lost everyone that really matters to him, but not Phoebe. Holden needs somebody to love right now. Someone who loves him back. And it just breaks my heart.
ReplyDeleteSelma Dervisevic
ReplyDeleteMs. Kaufman
Beacon
My name:
My name:
I think my name is different, not a lot of people have my name which
makes it more special in a way. My mom named me after a song she had
heard with my name in it, she also thought that it was a lovely name. I
wouldn't change my name because it's different, there was never
a person who had the same name as I did in any class I had, which
to me was special because in most of my classes their was at least
two kids that had the same name, and when the teacher called,