Poetry

It’s quick, heated and short. Like a blow to your face Or knuckles against your ribs Anger is deep routed, harsh and sometimes Unexplainable Anger does not come elegantly and often doesn’t leave peacefully. An emotion that aches from your head to your toes Raining down through your body as if to turn up your internal volumes. After anger comes sadness Comes tears of blue Salty eyes and rosy cheeks and noses Whitened fists and hurt expressions.

I see the winding roads and i can smell the scent of last nights rain I can taste the remains of my morning toothpaste, Colgate. I feel the heat radiating off of my new cup of coffee as my bones jolt to a stop at every red light. I hear the sounds of occasional cars driving by, faster than I’d ever drive. Rubber on cement and the soft melodies of ‘dont stop me now’ fill my ears as i look at the lamp post lighten road ahead of me. The slight drowse the comes with just waking up is a fresh feeling to my aching head. Good morning.

Her wrists bandaged, bulky and tough. Dressed in blue, with gripping socks to match Her hair once long It’s now all gone One feeble choice brought her here. The world sees black and white In their eyes she is weak Broken Dismissive Damaged But she’s just trying to get by.

This poem I thought was very aesthetically imagined? I thought it painted a good picture

I woke up and felt the sunlight across my eyes I look out my window and see cloudy skies and wet trees People, places, things are always more different than they appear. Stress tears in like a spear through my brain. I feel like I can’t hear anything over the sounds of rain banging against my windows. The sounds quiet, the rain stops, and light fills my room Clouds disappear, and with them they take away my sense of doom. I hear such pretty birds and see the elegance of light through my windows Oh how beautiful Right here at home really is.

This poem shows worldview in the way that you get to see life from a different perspective, therefor a sort of different view 

Worldview is like old stories, those classic fairy tales that evolve so much over time, yet somehow keep the same bones. A timeless statue that’s been chipped away by its many years of existence,never quite the same as it once was. An experience that keeps the brain sharp, like the blade of a soldier Molded with careful hands. Worldview shaped by life, like core memories are shaped from experiences.

This was the first poem i wrote for this project, and while it certainly isnt my favourite it is pretty good! It was during the stage where I was just grasping our ideas!

My main focus for this poem was the emotion, anger. If you couldn’t tell already.

My three-five sentences) This poem took words from the text ‘girl in pieces’ a book by kathleen Glasgow. It is meant to reflect on the way people judge mental illness. As well as how the world has very black and white thinking.

Worldview My world view is as broad as as a highway My worldview is shaped by education and experience, like my personality My world view is colourful, just like the leaves of an autumn day Worldview can play big parts in your moralities, though like the seasons they can change over time. Worldview can be ridged and stark just as white paint on a black canvas.

This is my favourite poem, actually. If it weren’t for a school project I think I would’ve made it a little shorter, just because I like shorter poems, but I think it turned out good either way

This poem is sort of changes moods mid way which is kind of neat, I used the weather to short of insinuate that.

This poem is along the lines of how worldview is and sort of how it becomes build in your mind

I like poetry Poetry is really nice Thanks for listening

Oh how joyful it must be to be a duck How they dance amongst the others ducks in the water They dont worry about tiring others, the news, anything All it takes to be a duck is enthusiastic simplicity They dont judge other ducks based off their feathers Or the way they quack Ducks saunter through life with only bread on their minds No pressure No responsibility Just bread

I am a pear. Nobodies favourite fruit, but still remembered When people are asked to name fruits, pears are listed off quickly But never first. They have thick skin and if grown properly, taste just as good as all the other apples, strawberries or pineapples of the world. At least i am not a lemon, worse, a lime It might be rare to see me in a pie, maybe I didn’t make it into the fruit smoothie But I’m always in the fruit bowl Waiting to be someone’s last minute lunch box decIsion Just sitting in the fruit bowl Right next to my good friends kiwi and honeydew At least we get to experience the kitchen life for much longer than any orange or cherry We watch all the dinners being cooked all the birthday cakes, baked All the family fights All the make ups We get all the drama From the simple comforts Of the fruit bowl.

Name

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